"moisturizing" poems
Perfect body proportions
Totally magazine hot.
Two percent body fat.
Bone structure of a god.
An hour workout daily
Jogging or the gym.
Specimen of health
Neither fat nor slim.
A high-dollar hairstyle
Nothing out of place.
The finest of products
Moisturizing the face.
Clothes from the proper
Stores with the right names.
Never take a chance on
Discount shopping games.
And, don’t forget the shoes
They have to be just right.
One set of shoes for daytime
And another for the night.
Not just any socks, either.
They must be picked with care.
You can’t be caught with
The wrong socks out somewhere.
Once the apparel is suitable
The grooming done just right
It’s quite all right to be seen
In public, day and night.
Otherwise the right people
Might trigger your worst fears
By thinking you were shopping
At Walmart, Kmart and Sears.
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 4:48 AM UTC
When the birds of spring sang with joy
To hail the blowing breeze pampering the face rapidly with moisturizing coy
When rays of the shine stand very kind to make the life neither hot nor too cold
Life rushes through the mobility of less anxiety or creating abundant tumult
Shining novelty on juvenile tress’ robe bestow jubilee to those hurry to work
In confronting the bundle you expect to parole
Life is so lovely what are you feeling for?
- “ seems… GARLIC…?”
The most beautified Criollo … ladies of shadow…listen to spring and smooth song of returning swallows
- “ sounds GARLIC..?”
Sender of magic rockets to Apollo… ladies of shallow… smell of plant mingled with heavenly blossom of sharp blue, it is a time to define the final intentions supposed to follow…
- “ feels GARLIC…?”
Drowsy, numb, with mouths open, shoulders down like zombies out of tomb… who are you? mighty dancers with delicate willow with strong sense of itching on our marrow
- “…ladies of GARLIC…”
Nobody comes, nobody goes, life is so hollow, what it supposed to be full of energy …you You talk a lot…just go!
smell strange not from corpses but from walls, earth, and ceiling… what is it?
- “….life is …GARLIC…”
Apr 15, 2020
Apr 15, 2020 at 5:30 AM UTC
We live in a society where a simple glance shift the way we are
Drowning the child living in our souls in a sea of prejudice and lies
Stifling his fearful cries in a whirlwind of deception
He re-appears as a 'man' like they say
A person who's leitmotif is security
Too scared to face the unknown ,
Too coward to fulfill his childhood dreams
The desire to be alike becomes so extreme
That he destroys what god gave him and made him so unique
Every single one of us is a part of the all mighty
Which makes us special in every ways
We are fruits stemming from various trees with a specific taste
Spurning that gift is like removing a part of ourselves
Admitting that we are weak within
Stand for it and you'll become a source of inspiration
A well moisturizing uncountable souls about to faint
Don't be afraid of what they think
Be free
Be you !
Mar 4, 2010
Mar 4, 2010 at 11:01 AM UTC
The sharp cacti are needles in a pin cushion, sticking their needles out to ***** the finger of a helpless person.
The dry, rough ground is a pair of Winter Lips, in need of moisturizing.
The one tree every 50 miles is a rain drop in a drought, treasured and loved by everyone in the desert.
The one of few ponds is a warm, rich, and steamy bath, used so much until it’s gone.
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 7:50 PM UTC
A well-groomed matador José
Liked to moisturize with Oil of Olay
His hands lost their grip
The cape it did slip
He was gored as he cried out "¡Olé!"
Oct 25, 2019
Oct 25, 2019 at 1:06 PM UTC
The sharp cacti are needles in a pin cushion, sticking their needles out to ***** the finger of a helpless person.
The dry, rough ground is a pair of Winter lips, in need of moisturizing.
The one tree every 50 miles is a rain drop in a drought, treasured and loved by everyone in the desert.
The one of few ponds is a warm, rich, and steamy bath, used so much until it’s gone.
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 7:50 PM UTC
It was dark and cold night. Looking back and up, the moon
was a thin and useless crescent, barely visible.
‘What a wasted moon,’ I thought.
“A stupid moon,” I mumbled to myself as if to finish a conversation.
It looked deflated, artificial, soulless, and cold. Not poetic at all.
I’m coping with tough decisions
a victory and perhaps one martini too many.
Peter (my bf) called, when I was at Toads (a local bar).
We usually talk on Tuesdays at about 11.
It was noisy in there
I was a little tipsy.
He became a little irritated.
It didn’t go well.
Martinis and authority don’t mix.
I handed my thesis in today, 80 days early.
I've been working on it obsessively.
finger to lips, like a secret I can be obsessive.
It’s a 60 page ‘first draft,’ theoretically.
“Can I turn in a first draft for your review?”
He looked surprised, “Sure.” I handed it over, and that’s that.
Every ‘first draft’ I’ve ever handed in has gotten an A.
“You’re CrAzY,” Sunny chuckled, “We gotta celebrate!”
“Please don’t hold the door open,” the librarian said.
I jumped, I hadn’t seen her sneaking up on me.
How long had I been standing there?
I’d been lost in thought.
I focused on her now.
She was 50 maybe, or a hundred—who knew?
Her face needed moisturizing badly,
her wrinkles were like cracks in marble.
She looked frowny.
Why is everyone frowny tonight?
“Sure,” I said, facetiously, throwing my arm up like the door was hot.
The door was now free to close.
And the world was a better place.
Once I’d turned and stepped into the library,
I decided It was too bright and too hot there.
So I left.
The second I was outside, in the refreshing cold, Sunny appeared.
“There you are,” she said, like she had lost something.
“You walk too fast,” and the girl with her laughed.
Sunny can always pick up a girl—it’s like she’s magnetic.
"Let's go home,” she added, “we’re going to pay for this tomorrow.”
She hooked my arm in hers and we followed the path,
the three of us, like the yellow brick road.
.
.
A song for this:
Drunk On Love by Basia
Data & Picard by Pogo
Jan 29, 2025
Jan 29, 2025 at 1:30 PM UTC
I HAVE A FANTASY TO TELL.
The last day, I'll be lying in bed, the room won't be familiar with white walls and some machines around, one of them showing my heartbeats drifting slowly and slowly towards silence. When there will be only one door left, and death will be waiting to greet me ahead.
Apart from my own noisy breath there's nothing to be heard and then, there will be a sudden knock on the door. As I'll see the person, my senses will be robbed and replaced by a paralysing fear. A fear of "last time". "Stay with me, just a little more,
As Its time for destiny to close the doors.
Maybe it is the last time,
You are mine and i am yours." I'll whisper to you smiling and my eyes full of tears.
Adding on I'll say "l love you and I'm gonna love you forevermore". You'll ask me for a dance. And the music will play " Lag jaa gale, ke fir ye hasi raat ** na ** shayad fir iss janam mulaakat ** na ** Feared from all my fears I'll grab you more close, and we'll dance to live my eternity on toes. With no life left in my body I'll still move and I'll bring my face close to yours just to feel you breathe for the last time. I'll look into your eyes to look me there, and kiss your cheeks to bid goodbye with care.
As my eyesight will blur , my desperate arms will clutch you tightly, my eyes still there and i will feel myself blink, still instinctively moisturizing the organs I will have no use for. And then I'll realise my breath fading away, I'll close my eyes and rest my head on chest.
Slowly and slowly my body will calm down and this pain will come to rest. Embraced in your arms I'll drown to my last breath.
Jul 31, 2017
Jul 31, 2017 at 12:41 PM UTC
Watch for her fangs,
She digs deep into your throat
Tearing quick through flesh
Like two needles into wool
Easily and noiselessly
Your skin fires to a new sensation,
You then hear angels sing,
Loved ones humming,
A soothing melody like in a cave
Echoes dying out farther
And so you let your eyelids down
To see with the mind,
Cheerful faces and white gowns
Standing around a milky fountain,
Overflowing onto the snowy floor
Streaming slowly into a little pool
Lying in it, the white queen
Visible, the smooth skin on her thighs,
Appearing briefly as she turns,
You swallow hard and loud
Her long white hair falls on the shoulders,
And just enough to cover the twin deer
But not what your mind can see
The perfect curve lines running around them
Appearing soft like cotton candy
She raises her hand, grabbing yours
Pulling you slowly into the milky pool
Letting you sit between her legs
As your back rests in her chest,
Your skin rubbing smoothly against hers,
Wrapping her arms around you
Your head rests on one shoulder
Her mouth close to your ear,
A gentle whisper, hissing lightly,
Steadily calming your heart beat
You feel the warmth of her breath,
Like steam from a cup of hot coffee
Moisturizing the skin on your neck
A point when it all freezes
The humming stops,
Fountain freezes along with the stream
And suddenly, a prickle like,
Sharp and intense,
But only for a second
Then time runs again,
A single drop of red,
Splashing into the snowy pool,
Slowly, it appears to dissolve
But fades not
And suddenly, a rumbling
Sweeping through like a wave
A moment when all changes
Many black cloaks surrounding
Red spreads quickly from the tiny drop
Filling up the pool, into the little stream,
Then the floor, and lastly the fountain
Her long hair now looks deep red
The air smells dead, metallic
Her breath and flesh, cold
She howls, flashing her fangs
And the shadows cheer
The vampire queen!!!
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC
Seeing this woman standing
before me fully dressed. Svelte,
sleek in her black dress, legs smooth,
she appeals to all my senses,
smells of lotions from heaven, lanolin
moisturizing electrifying all my senses
straining my eyeballs and all my tendons
I approach, warily.
Not wanting to scare her away I say
words of honey melting off my dripping tongue
scheming
and oh so short of breath I attempt
to impress this pretty woman
fully dressed.
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 4:11 PM UTC
Oh my fragile heart
I feel paralyzed in this demise,
With the blink of an eye
Waves and tides rise
Eroding the soil
The island's with canopies
Sink in the depth,
Just like that
My eyes pour tears
Moisturizing my dark circles
That now seem grooved
Pain and despair drowns me as each tear leaves the eye,
Oh my fragile heart
I feel paralyzed in this demise.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 3:45 PM UTC
AJean-Paul Sartre:
“If you’re lonely when you’re alone, you’re in bad company”
<>
stumbled upon while reading a movie review,
this almost a proverbial phrase provoking,
even stoking,
as we hold it up to the light,
twisting, turning the words,
as if it was a
kaleidoscope of diamonds,
looking at the fractured reflections,
for a better comprehension
we,
of two minds:
be-love and be-rued
this s l o w e d turning of our solitary solution
under the microscope ,
for critiquing
the two headed hydra
that has served us well and poorly
you, dear reader, understand perfectly,
the utility and the inutility of aloneness,
the surge creativity that comes
from no distractions,
other than our internal attractions
which when
one interrupted by the company of,
insertion of a different catalogue
a holder of human foibles,
differentiating, threatening, upsetting,
and sometimes soothing,
always enervating,
unlike the soothe of solitude
either can overwhelm,
either can worse,
underwhelm
but
the crossover. when the contrast is
pointy and sharp,
raises an irritating questioning
like the cracking, dry skin, of
places where we do not put
moisturizing cream
for fear of feeling failure
each to their own,
the enjoy/unjoy of voices
claiming a permanent correctness
of their viewpoint
wringing in with
a legal pad of
pluses and minuses
listing side to dide,
but never adding up
to 💯
Mar 19, 2025
Mar 19, 2025 at 8:16 AM UTC
rosie for you i am stuck in a state of limerence
i count daisy petals for you in my head
picking the light home grown baby softs
reminds me of you moisturizing your hands with your
lotion and rubbing them on mine when you took too much
the abstract will you wont you concept
gives me hope and a knot in my chest
trailing into my tummy
I wish i could count the times i held your hand
in the dark
the same way that i tick tock those knock off floral fingers
rosie you give me some life back into my brittle bones
I wish you weren't a world away and I wish you were instead in my sightline
you are my horizon
push me into the future so i'm not stuck in your arms anymore
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 1:09 AM UTC
he talks about her like she is every reason he is hurting and every reason he keeps moving
he wakes up and she is the only thing on his mind
he gets out of bed with one, her smile
he glances at his sleepy eyes and messy hair in the mirror with two, her reflection looking back at him
he cleans himself up with three, her voice telling him how she's always moisturizing and pampering herself
he puts on his clothes with four, her hands on his chest
he pours coffee into her once favorite mug with five, her eyes all teared up that one time she burned her tongue
he comes back home late and unsteady
he looks for his missing pieces in people who are not whole themselves he attempts to build up extraordinary relationships with people who stopped believing in such things
all in hope that his mind would erase the idea that he belongs to one person
he sets his alarm on somedays
other days he's too tired to move
he rests his head on a couple of pillows with six, the feeling of her fingers running through his hair
he fixes his mind and tries to think straight with seven, the realization that she is long gone and he is only stuck with hallucinations of the past and what could have been
he falls asleep to the thought of her
he breathes to the scent of her
it's all too quiet but he swears he could hear her voice sometimes
in the morning, he wakes up and she is the only thing on his mind everything goes back into reverse, he lives in repeated events
his body goes on with his life.
his soul, still trapped in what ifs
he smiles and it's the brightest thing ever; the sun seems suddenly irrelevant
he laughs and I could see
in that curve
in that temporal moment
that it's been a while since everything broke down in his world yet he couldn't find a way to repair the damage
and she is every reason behind that
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 8:32 PM UTC
I seen you again and oh
it was like moisturizing to my broken lips
And you ran away so swiftly
I seen it, your blushing face over
hidden feelings for someone else
I am in love with you, even without the
"but how could you"
I stay as a friend
because in my eyes
you drown my dreams of sorrows
And I feel all alone without you
Imagine me without you
Bare, *** Naked Completely
Non functional
I stay as a friend
Because I love you
Written by André Patterson
Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 3:37 AM UTC
Please don't bother
Don't pull the trigger
Your heart's throbbing
Just clear your throat
TV remoteness and social media starvation
You're all alone
Being out
Boozing with your friends
Please don't pay attention
Try to concentrate
Your chapped lips
They ask for someone's help
But there's nobody around
They don't hear you
Please don't bother
Just use your moisturizing lipstick
Aren't you having fun?
Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC