JJ Hutton Jun 2010
I'd like to think that she's thinking:

"How far have I fallen?"

As she sits on the corner of her bed,

Listening to the soft buzz of his battery-powered toothbrush.

I imagine her,

Running her fingers through her clumsy, coagulated hair.

Glancing at her chipped, crimson toe nails,

Then looking to her class ring,

Made entirely of imitation ingredients,

Wondering when is the proper time to trash it.

When she was still a friend of mine,

I never saw her wear make up,

I never saw her show off in tight jeans

or low-cut tees.

But as he spews the toothpaste into the sink,

Skinny jeans lay tussled on the floor,

Next to the side door

that leads to his sister's side room.

The make up she wears

is from the night before.

It's skewed and shows evidence of running,

Like a wasted watercolor.

I'd like to think he isn't that handsome,

And that he's obsessed with Paul Walker.

I'd like to think when he re-enters the room,

He's in grey sweatpants,

He's wearing a black tank top,

With a Confederate flag backdrop,

With two barely dressed babes looking sleazy

in the foreground.

His hair, unwashed and greasy.

He rubs his belly,

And bears an idiot grin

on his face.

Looking like he just learned how to smile

at this pace.

"Did it feel good?"

feel good.

After he asks, he scans her body,

Beginning at those crimson toes,

And Ending at that clumsy hair.

Every second he scans,

He still wears that drawn-on

Idiot grin.

I'd like to think at this point she thinks of me.

Of my warnings and prophesy.

Her eyes start at the chipped toe nails,

Course over her tanning bed-inspired legs.

And finally reach the only thing she has on,

A t-shirt that belongs to his sister.

A t-shirt, when given by him,

It was mentioned, "thanks, mister".

Though she didn't satisfy all his redneck intentions,

During last night's expedition.

He still paid her back with a morning

one-sided session.

"It felt good" she says.

In reference to the ten minute fingerfuck,

When her body was strummed and plucked,

Underneath his sister's Terri Clark T-shirt.

As she sits in the filth and the sexual fallout,

On a bed that is six days dirty,

While he is grinning,

Being everything but wordy.

I'd like to think she's thinking:

"How far have I fallen?"
Copyright 2009 by Joshua J. Hutton
brandon nagley Dec 2015
Mine queen
Mine queen;
Hast seen heaven
And hell.

Mine queen
Mine queen
Broketh me
Free; from
Satan's cell.

Mine queen,
Mine queen,
Mine queen,
Jane; of the

©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Donald Guy Nov 2012

6:48 a Wednesday
Two Weeks later
Then: Thanksgiving eve

I sit at my desk:
stare out of the windows <
My skull
at the Chocolate Bock I just
Overflowed > all over my notes
on the Circe episode of Ulysses,
which I have not yet read.

20 minutes after I just ––
Went alone. Stood there, yes, alone
Above the porcelain enterprise
Taking that litmus test of humanity
Clear, I pass. Yellow, I fail.
It was rather clear I think
Honestly? I don't remember.

Two weeks ago, I stood there==
and came up with this phrase.
Standing there with special eyes::::
Came back to my room, I did, faithfully
Looked there below my second fridge
A plate sat. mine. On it: maybe food, maybe vomit
Probably marijuana
Only the first my own
Who remembers?

Next to it: an empty prescription bottle
"It's some medicine for Asthma. I don't even
have asthma!"
"Classy fuck I am; I've never bought a shot glass.
Just use discarded prescription bottles."

An experiment @ the sink: exact: 2.0z. On the dot.
Turns out that's 1&1/3 of the standard—The ritual
We make it. And have made it.
For years now together after midnight
[or so]
4 years. Soon it will be
Maybe I shall leave; probably not

but harken back, that fortnight, less 6
To that evening. Orange and purple
Effort sublime but not enough:
Lost to a team of Freshman.?!

~If only:~
"Tripped mad-laundry shrooms",
6 and a half months ago

Two men sit in the corner of my room
I know one; the other spoke

2-weeks-later: sticky keyboard
I am not sober, but who is?

Last night. Remember those videos?
reminded me that sex can be beautiful:
After basically 2 years: I almost forgot.
x-art.com. December 6, 2011

I have a perspective now:
It is not the same as yours
it is not and, by necessity,
can not be the same.

But I see it. Stephen Daedalus
calls it immature—lyrical
but fuck you, James: it is mine!

I am. Will always be.
Will have never been.
But, God/Goddess damn it now!
I am: I See.
I try!

Proper reading involves out-loud pronunciation of some of the punctuation

12/7/11. the day I was drunk 14 hours.

Ostensibly written for William Corbett's 21W.756 Writing and Reading Poems.
ostensible nod to James Schuyler.
PoemFalcon69 Feb 2015
This *Time
Of Mine.
I Do Not Know,
How To Rhyme.
All That I Have,
Is Time.

(This Poem Is Sponsored In Part By Viewers Like You, Thank You)
Kyra Woods Jun 2015
How can you miss someone's voice you have never heard and how can you visualize someone'es eyes you have never seen?
These are questions that alter the reality of someone's being.
Even though I have never met you and have no knowledge of your existence, I know you are out there. someday I will find my King.
I know that your lips are softer than rose petals and the Melanin in your skin fills women with desire.
But as I lay in these silk sheets and relish in fantasies I know that nothing between You and another woman  will ever transpire,
Because You're Mine.
The dimple within your right cheek and the mischief in your eyes are all significant marks that you are no else's but Mine.
The sway of your walk and the charm when you talk are characteristics held for a woman who goes by My Name.
Our connection is nothing short of beautiful and  the intensity of our relations make any other love seem inhumane.
I know this, even though to everyone else you still cease to exist.
I know our hands will lock together like the missing pieces completing a puzzle.
Making me Your's, but more precisely making you Mine.
As the sole cub born,
I had some tiniest spots,
My mother was the world,
And my father was the king,
As she fed me while I crooned for a sibling,
Dad used to just look at her,
But differences spawned and they magnified.

I never had a sibling,
I lack a big teaching.

Now I am the lonely lion.
My HP Poem #773
©Atul Kaushal
Just Melz Oct 2014
I'm coming for you,
better run and hide,
found you,
thought you were sly,
make you hold me tight,
all night,
don't cry it will be alright,
I'll make it feel good,
I'll make it nice
maybe add some spice,
make you whimper and beg,
Biting down, blow and squeeze
I'll make you scream,  
till you want more,
on the floor?
Top, bottom, doesn't matter,
don't flatter yourself,
I'll give you a dollar,
Look so good,
so fine you'll be mine,
its a crime how your kind
But I'll make you see all of me,
turn you over shake you down
turn you around,  
be true
*to the monster I made of you
Anonymous Aug 2014
Our lips have met one another and tasted like liquor. But ones once they turned tasteless and my blood was no longer tainted, the greeting felt natural.
Your hands brushed upon my trembling body and they felt like the first fallen leaves of autumn. So delicate and new.
The words from your mouth felt like butterflies within my body, all over my body.
Your stare feels like a ray of sunlight after a wretched rainstorm, when I ask why you look you reply, "because you're beautiful"
Lily Mae May 2012
There would not be one day that you wondered about being loved
you would wear a smile on your face and live off the smile inside your heart

In moments of sadness and sorrow you would have a hand to hold you
caress you and kiss the tears off your face

When experiencing joy I would be there to embrace
your accomplishments and good deeds

In bed at night you'd never lie alone
a breath, a kiss a touch of hand...and a heart of gold would be yours

If you were mine you would know every pleasure known to a man and woman
we would be one not two in the bed we make

Not once, if you were mine would you wonder or doubt
my heart is yours on sacred vow

If you were mine...If I were yours
dreams would cease to be needed, we would be living each dream

If...you let me
a spool of heart's thread
pulled taut just for you
tie a knot and watch it break
© 2015  J.J.W. Coyle
Emily Dec 2013
I bend to scoop the sand into my palm,
clutching tightly,
the tiny grains warm within my grasp.
The ocean is calm,
gently nudging my toes as though reminding me of its presence,
begging to be noticed.
It is persistent.

I look back to my fist,
prompted by the renewed emptiness inside,
capturing a glimpse of the last grains of sand
as they trickle from between my fingers.
They lay to rest at my feet;
before, behind, or beside me - I could not be sure.
I never did find out, nor did I care.
They were never mine to hold.
Carolina PN Mar 2015
I love you so deeply
I love you so much
It hurts me so fiercely
To not feel your touch

And all of this distance
My fellow companion
Has given resistance
Mine constant: rebellion.
brandon nagley Aug 2015
If I'm gonna treateth mine woman as a queen
I shalt treateth her as a queen daily;
As tis Men just think special occasion's and holiday's
Art the only day's to calleth their women Queen's,
With me, every day's a holiday
Every day that I'm with mine queen...............

©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane dedication
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