"moisturized" poems
You rode an airplane horse
Like Joan of Arc and her hope
With Princess Julia and Prince Justin,
Flew away from our bleak archipelago,
Across this continent of the smooth-skinned
To meet the King, your love,
For a quest to raise again our royal family,
And brought rain to Dubai.
You have rained on Dubai;
Brought the ocean to their deserts,
Watered their artificial plants,
Glistened their rough highways,
Bathed the Arabs,
Moisturized their dry skin,
And taught them to dance in the puddles.
You have rained on Dubai,
And took with you my Philippine sun.
Now I sit here in my desk;
A withered bud in the Land of the Orient Pearl,
Staring at this snow globe you left
With glitter orbiting the Burj Al Arab,
Watching over you from this crystal ball,
Waiting for you to leave the Gulf States,
And bring the rain back here.
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 11:41 PM UTC
Picked freshly from the
garden of my newfangled
burning infatuation for you,
a fine blanket of lettuce,
to suit my modest request
This evening holds meaning,
accented with wine of white
over candlelight,
delicious Italian dining tonight
You do me well,
you know you do
Scorching days
turn to chilly nights
We are but two spoons,
failing to convect heat
to warm each other’s souls
and hands, which I kept
moisturized, for us;
scented fingers of vanilla
caress uniquely speckled skin
Genuine fascination
in everything
that is
you
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 2:31 PM UTC
I treated my skin like a goddess
Legs shaved, hands moisturized,
Any spot of acne scrubbed away and covered over with pale sheets
But I hid from my spine, like a snake always a few inches behind me, waiting to strike
This skin there was a poorly applied veneer,
Exaggerating the flaws it was meant to hide
The snake is in constant motion, waving an S up the core of my being,
Displaying my instability
It's curved, like the ridges of the Grand Canyon
Only more unnatural,
Un beautiful,
More like a line you tried to draw straight
Only when it wavered just a little too much, you threw it away and started over
I cannot start over
My snake drags venom along its body, instead of drooling it into a bite
And he is always biting,
So the skin on my back has never been touched
Never been pampered, or savored.
Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 10:48 PM UTC
Very few men could live with her.
She was one who couldn’t get along with a man-any man.
She planted her love for men in a bitter root and sweet water that contaminated her perception about men and interrupted her peace. she loved the way his sweet smell lingered when he left her presence- but not anymore.
Thoughts running through her mind, she would think ” I gave him all I had, what more would he have wanted?”
” I gave her all I had”, he said.
He was always there for her, showering her with love and pocketful of romantic warmth. He was her morning dew that moisturized the wholeness of her heart.
But somewhere along the line, his love for her had become an ugly scene.
To a man, women are wicked. To a woman, men don’t deserve to live.
Human beings aren’t fair. That’s a fact! But you should take some time out to think about this, is life fair ??!!!
Pure love becomes a fairy tale when love knocks us hard to the ground.
It could take some of us days or years to recover from our emotionally transmitted diseases (ETDs).
I went blank for weeks and my experience within that period felt like paradise in hades.
I preferred to bottle up my hurts. I couldn’t trust anyone because I was shattered by the darkened side of my beloved. Candle lights were signs I could converse with. Stirring at them in the dark and knowing that time was only waxing away. I had faith in those candle lite forgetting about the Author of time who isn’t a subordinate to time but I’m subject to Him.
A heart ripped into pieces is uneasy to mend. I went to places, met new faces, smiled and laughed my head off when I met my old pals but the thoughts of my beloved was like a leech in my heart ******* the breath out of my life.
Love all you can and expect the worse from love. Be willing to take the risk.
A love story could either uplift your potentials or un make you completely .
To my young fellas, be careful who you let in to your heart
Priscilla Adams(AraSoul)
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 7:19 AM UTC
They didn’t like my naked body.
My roughed up, pale skin
My nestled dark hair on the sides of my armskins
My tiny ******* peeking, cusp of womanhood
“The naked body isn’t natural, you’ve misunderstood.”
Oh okay, so today I’ll put on my miniskirt.
“You clearly hold no respect for yourself and are conforming to these Hollywood standards that a woman must look like a **** How un-feminist of yourself.”
Oh, then today I’ll put on a dress.
“What are you doing? Conforming to patriarchy? To this idea that you must be the epitome of innocence and revel in this idea a girl must be a silly fool?”
Fine, today I’Il put on a T-Shirt.
“Goodness! No sense of style! No sense of class! No sense of taste! As a woman, you should be trying to look the part of one that is polished!”
What a ******* mess.
FINE! Maybe I should wear a nun’s dress!
“Oh no, today that’s suggestive, a costume for Halloween,”
Waxed
Shaved
Scrubbed
Plucked
Trimmed
Moisturized
Sexualized
Materialized
Labelled
Packaged
Stored
Selling
Sold
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 10:31 AM UTC
You, girl, surely are no standard lip balm.
Uncapping joy – the end not often reached.
What that was said about kissing girls with cherry chaptstick:
It is surely truer than is a smile being contagious.
Yonder eyes, oh, my greatest of demise.
With you gone,
I am without life’s swan.
Of wavering size, warm, and safely claimed in my pocket.
Steadfast and moisturized, you bring life through the cold.
I have been branded, and rightfully so.
Dec 8, 2011
Dec 8, 2011 at 12:30 AM UTC
Her son was asleep
She was relaxed now
As she stepped out the shower
Her dripping body
Her brown skin
Naked, she looked as beautiful as a flower
Sweet as brown sugar
They called her
She thought that was so corny
She moisturized her long legs
Which made men oh so *****
When she thought about it
As she moved up her body
Her son stirred
Her hands were on her *******
She softly cursed
Her ******* were like soft ebony basketballs
She admired them
No wonder she got so many catcalls
And those buns
Those buns
Those sweet firm cinnamon buns
They speak for themselves
They’re the perfect balance
She looked in the bathroom mirror
And looked back at it
And touched it
In silence
Soon that silence was no more
Her son wasn’t asleep anymore
She had to cut short her body admiration
Due to her dedication
To her son
They called her Brown Sugar
She knows why
Now all her Brown Sugar is devoted...
For her son.
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 5:46 PM UTC
I miss you in between life
I have been a good girl, I have not stopped living
I have fun, quite often
Have not stopped going out into the sun in the afternoon to examine my mother's petunias
And admire the bougainvillea basking under the sun
I take the dog out for the evening walk, try to love like she loves me
I accept love, I try to love back but never force myself
I am gentle with myself as I am with others
I start art projects and finish them
I start cooking elaborate things and finish them
I clean up my mess
I oil my hair, wash it every two days
Keep my skin moisturized
Drink enough water till my *** is clear
I eat fruits, I eat pomegranate
I wash my clothes and put them back on time
I take my meds on time
I don't take too much cough syrup
Don't drink iced coke on cold days
I am gentle with myself as I am with others
I try to neither be afraid of time running out nor having to wait forever
I do not stay up too late on the internet
Wake up early enough to have breakfast and still have room for lunch
I have fun
I go for movies, take photos everywhere, talk to my sister, talk to my friends, talk to the neighbors, say hello to every dog I pass, try to identify every bird I see,
I am living well
But the catch is, I'd rather be doing all of this with you
Feb 2, 2019
Feb 2, 2019 at 5:17 AM UTC
I bought some chapstick.
You said to get the kind you use,
So it’ll remind me of you.
In the parking lot,
I unwrapped the tube and spread it on my lips,
Indulging in what felt like you.
The moisture repaired my cracked skin.
A fresh start for my xerosis.
Honey flavored!
_I didn’t think twice._
When you called me two days later,
My body froze with your news.
_I knew you’d dump me._
Not so sweet after all.
And now I have this ******* chapstick,
Honey flavored, mind you,
That brings me back to a place of a past time.
I use this chapstick everyday,
Hopeful that one day I’ll actually use it all.
What we had will be gone.
Two months have passed,
And I can’t seem to make a dent.
Will you always be around?
At least my lips are always moisturized.
As I moved on,
I watched the parts of you that lingered in me
Completely vanish.
I began to notice,
_The chapstick isn’t honey flavored._
It’s scented with hellos,
Flowering bushes,
Springtime summersaults,
And fresh cider.
Every spread of that chapstick tube I use,
A part of you peels away,
Like the dead skin that previously surrounded my lips.
But the more I stare at that golden, honey design on the chapstick,
The more I come to realize that it’s just chapstick.
Nothing else.
_No more,
No less._
Jan 25, 2021
Jan 25, 2021 at 7:06 PM UTC
Everything was dreary
...And bleak.
And my skin happened to look red and splotchy.
All I had wanted
Was to binge on coco flavanols and overdose on caffeine.
I hadn't moisturized my skin after my shower, or put cover up on while it was still moist and warm. My veneer had not been established.
I told myself it didn't matter..
But really this issue was the cultivation
The turning point of my day.
Then I put my face on.
The grey, somber mask turned to Lovely, Feminine Pink.
As I spread the beige cream across my complexion, I felt something shift; insidious.
I felt the ******* I had been enslaved to.
I had been the one
With no friends and no sellouts to lug around with the rest of her baggage.
I had been the one
Who gawked and sneered
At the self-medication of the lonely girls who looked oh-so attractive
With their gleaming, hair~framed faces
And popping eyes.
What have I become?
I now claim this self selling drug
As my own.
What does it mean? What does it say about me?
Even more importantly, what does it say about you, and your stand point?
Do you put your face on, or do you let your soul bubble out of the surface of your complection?
FACE
A FACE
A million faces, pretty ones.
It's time to face the place of natural grace and replace the superficial first impression we chase.
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 3:39 AM UTC
This morning I slept in an extra hour,
I made a large *** of coffee,
and took a long shower.
Rubbed oil on my split knuckles.
I shaved, and moisturized,
I combed, and gave myself a haircut.
I made a smoothie, blended with peanut butter.
Looking myself in the eyes,
one of them black.
Wrapped bandages around my knuckles,
counted my bruises, 14.
Last night was wild,
the bar wouldn't serve me,
but I stayed for the fight.
A group of nazis in the corner,
yelling at a Moslim,
me and three others,
invited them outside.
It wasn't a good fight,
although it were fair.
Skinny **** punks, vs
me and three Cowboys.
I think I broke a knuckle on my right hand,
I know I broke a nose, but not mine,
I know I broke a finger, but not mine.
**** punks watch out,
Denver Antifascist Action is growing,
and we're not sleeping
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 2:28 PM UTC
Eyes huddled in fear,
That paralyzing fear in front of bullets mercilessly sprayed,
Deep sprayed by the cruelty, which must be fed
With victims,
Those defenseless victims of hate,
That dreadful hate ,which is fed with love
As well as
Pleasure is fed with pain,
That extreme pain ,which embellishes the madness,
That round madness like a cold moisturized rosy-red,
A rosy-red ring-shaped patches and giant Quincke swelling
And a boisterous cooling noisy breathing,
Snorting breath like groaning a song ,
A love song for the dance of death,
A painful death for the warm puppets,
Beautiful puppets becoming cold wax mannequins,
Bleak mannequins screaming in their red rain
Of feelings,
Red feelings coloring their sad moments,
Cool moments of winter fires
In caves of shadows.
Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 3:00 PM UTC
Love me tender
Love me sweet......
My lips were dry
But you moisturized them
With your kisses.
I let my body go upside down
Only because I was in your arms
So there was no falling.
But perhaps I am falling.
Perhaps I'm dragging you with me.
But is that so bad.
Our legs go perfectly intertwined
My ***** sits well in your concave
My breast fall gracefully on your chest.
And our minds interconnect.
I think we fit.
So continue to....
Love me tender
Love me sweet
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 6:39 PM UTC
World's in hesitation across the nation
No need for an explanation
Negroes still playing in the field plantation
They call it the corporation
Can't argue with fools cuz they in gestation
Of sin and wickedness look at this world
We living in skin is my sin
Can't even heal even if the remedy was to settled in
Wake up my folks and hear me clear
Don't be a slave to this game called fear
Rise up like the sunshine open ya mind
Even if it cost ya ya own life line
Just remember what I told you
We natural born soldiers made to fight
We are earth soil and ground
If ya don't believe me look around
And look how many of our ancestors
Blood moisturized the ground ?
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 10:44 PM UTC
Would he still feel comfortable
in brooks brothers felt trousers or those loafers
with golden ornamentation or with pale white
business cards being traded between moisturized
fingers. With hands clutching a cold metal
pole on the subway and swaying to coltrane
from his headphones would he still trade glances
with the woman in good humor whites with two
black babies and a clear tub of windex and fresheners
and rubber yellow gloves. Or just stand tall and straight
and rigid and lifeless and keep his eyes
on the black floors and the loafers
and the illuminated emails shining from his palm.
With a newer suit and pay raise and the snarling of his new office and the desk with his middle aged secretary, would he still treat her kindly and keep her father's cancer in mind or instead, (next month), ask for a younger blonder girl from a better school (and bigger ****
after the man finally makes his seven figures.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 2:50 PM UTC
Pepper heat moisturized to cayenne treats, quite a tale you can speaketh of when the barrel's gone your way,
Thine heart burns, and stomach churns, to fabric of hand made clay!
Exodus routes will temp the ill-hearted, the still guarded wear patches all sown on!!! Collect all thy pleasures, for you've sown all your sins....
Unjust you say? All mental, none okay? What a disturbing image of Castro like fear's!!!
Oxidations own filing cleans thy palate, pass keys to and in between bricked mortar!!!!state borders with trooper's to seize full control!!!!
What a fool we all were to be told!!!!
Waiting is far more intense than what you have been made to believe, the sky plans to decieve all who gave its futuristic view!!! Some flights are old, and some are new!!
For art thou in a trance?
Have they left thine wounds open?
Are have thou been lanced?
Are you vulnerable to groupie teams, to hustler phenes?
Who rob God's own ark.....
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 7:50 AM UTC
The 34-year-old Russian model has admitted she applies beauty products to enhance her cheekbones and jaw line when she has to attend a formal discussion to make her look "older" and "more mature".
Speaking to Elle.com about her beauty regime, the blonde beauty - who has starred in fashion campaigns for luxury designer brands including Givenchy, Prada and Calvin Klein - said: "There's no particular routine. I keep my skin clean and moisturized. A product I swear by is [Guerlain] Super Aqua Serum, so maybe this is my secret.
"It's also genetics and a healthy lifestyle. I think it's really about using the right products and looking after your skin. And putting on makeup that doesn't make your skin look like it's caked on. My two favorite products are Lingerie De Peau BB Cream, and in the winter I use Météorites Baby Glowfoundation. It smells so good. The pearl powder is what gives it this really incredible glow. The secret to applying my makeup is that I just put it where it's needed.
"Sometimes I wear just a little pencil and a bit of mascara to make my eyes stand out a little more. And maybe a bit of color on my cheeks. If I'm going to a meeting, I will contour my face to make myself look a little older. I have to look more mature."
And Natalia - who has sons Lucas, 14, Viktor, nine, Maxim, two, four-month-old Roman and 10-year-old daughter Neva with her husband Antoine Arnault - has admitted motherhood impacts on her daily routine.
The Gorky-born star explained: "Keeping up with everything I do requires some sacrifices, but once and a while I need to take some time to myself."Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/princess-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/sexy-formal-dresses
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 4:00 AM UTC
**
And then, I saw the gates of heaven open wide;
A sight of a pretty woman seen, like a shadow;
she sat on his lap, conveniently; comfortably;
She was called by a false nick name in her own life;
highly recommended; graded for immoral values;
declared many wars of lust with men and won victoriously;
Her both eyes were glowing like a red flame of fire;
lips, moisturized and were like poisonous sharp arrows;
on her head were many crowns, black in color;
She had a name written in an unknown language;
no one knew; read and understood, except herself.
She was wearing no clothes, except a transparent gown,
dipped in blood, and her name is called by others;
The Beautiful Evil of the high heavens !
**
BY
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
[email protected]
www.williamsji.com
www.williamsgeorge.com
www.williamsmaveli.com
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 10:08 PM UTC
They come and go as they please.
There goes Summer,
Here comes Autumn.
Next is Winter,
And finally, Spring.
Then the process starts all over again.
Oh, the beauty, the beauty of the seasons.
Spring brings life, warmth, and love.
Flowers of all colors will dot the landscape,
The grass will grow green,
The trees will bud, leaves will appear,
The bees and the birds will return,
Hope of a good life high in their little hearts.
Summer brings freedom, joy, and heat.
The grass will loose it's moisturized texture.
It will yellow over time.
But it doesn't stop there.
Fruit will ripen.
New animals will be born.
Flowers will remain in full bloom,
Until Autumn comes along.
The leaves on the trees and the grass all around,
They wither, crumble, fade away,
But that doesn't take the beauty of the day.
Lovely red, yellow, orange leaves will fall to the ground,
Creating a painting, a feeling of bliss.
One day soon, the first snow will fall,
And winter will follow soon.
Watching the beautiful snowflakes,
Each one unique,
Sipping my hot cocoa,
Feeling the warmth down to my feet.
Dancing in the snow,
Creating angels all around,
Making a new friend,
Naming him Mr. Snowman,
Enjoying days off from school,
Whether it's from snow or due to seasons,
But then it starts to warm,
And Spring is in full bloom again.
They come and go as they please.
There goes Summer,
Here comes Autumn.
Next is Winter,
And finally, Spring.
Then the process starts all over again.
Oh, the beauty, the beauty of the seasons.
I love each one!
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 10:03 PM UTC
What seems like yesterday
has turned into years
There are days where I can still remember the clicks of your fingers touching the letters on your keyboard
Your eyes glancing up to me to see if I was staring again
In your room it was just us
The slams of lockers and chatter seemed miles away
Even when on occasions students will come in
it still felt like just us
I remember your eyes
Blue like the color of my backpack
I remember your hands
the roughness of them when they touched mine
I always thought you never moisturized
You should.
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 2:37 AM UTC
I washed my hands
but like waking frantic from a dream
I stopped,
and observed the knuckles.
They were so smooth.
The skin was even, white, and moisturized.
The sound of water splashing porcelain seemed so quiet,
and the soap... it was just soap.
The water did not thunder in my ears and linger hours after,
The soap did not feel like acid on my skin,
each pump no longer a breathless affliction,
and my skin was not red,
it was not violently cracked and scraped and bleeding and stinging my hands were not these raw bones that split apart with gritted teeth at my every movement.
And like falling back asleep I went into a daze,
curious how one could forget such a thing,
but on further concentration it did seem so long ago,
when the tear filled affliction plagued every moment,
my teenage life filled with
washing my hands washing my hands washing my hands
but now
I could not remember how many times I left class to clean them until I forced myself from the sink.
Perhaps my hands are clean, finally, perhaps they are washed of what I desperately tried to purge them of.
Or perhaps I remember now, because they have once again begun to feel unclean.
so curious.
how long ago that seems,
how long ago indeed.
Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 2:35 PM UTC
Sick with it
Spun and done
Get on with your negative nature
Spew insults after being kind
Swallowing others’ egos
Creature posing as a man
needs to work on posing stance
Deceit seeps through pores
glorified saying you’re moisturized
Burn you down eyes gouge out
Realize that fake are made of plastic
Puddle of a little man, where’s your ego now?
~kb
Jan 22, 2019
Jan 22, 2019 at 4:43 PM UTC