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Homunculus Jan 2019
As the hour draws late,
      all the tribes gather,
The band begins to play, and
      in the midst of their serene
Exchange of musical phrases,
      I meet a quite peculiar man.
His dreadlocks hang way
      down past his shoulders, and
Above his rope sandals and
      patchwork pants, he sports
A shirt, emblazoned with
      a portrait of Lord Ganesha
Seated serenely in Lotus posture,
      overlaid by a wire wrap necklace
With a large piece of opal in the center.

His pupils are the size of
       dinner plates, nearly
Eclipsing the irises of his eyes.
       his musk is a distinctive mixture of
Body odor, *** smoke, and strong incense.
       we exchange our salutary pleasantries, and
As I absorb the spectacle of his appearance,
      he begins to discourse, saying:

"I charge my crystals
    in the moonlight, and
Keep them close by day,
   they clear my chi blockages, and
Realign my chakras,
   I burn sage and patchouli
To invoke the goddess
   spirit of the forest moon,
We are all just cosmic vibration
   expressed as living matter in
The timeless unity of
  the flowering astral plane"

He pauses for a moment,
     to light his spliff, and
After a few large tokes, continues on,
     describing the events of one fateful night,
When he "sat for a long spell, and
      experienced an unbridled quiescence of
Meditative stillness, culminating in a
      stream of flowing fractal visions, and a
      Whirlwind of
                             Pulsating
                                  Kundalini
                                       Energy

I listen with a sort of
   detached amusement, but
My brain is filtering his words out, and
    all I can hear are bursts of Charlie Brown's
Parents from the old Peanuts cartoon
    Interpolated with sentence fragments
That all seem to say the same thing:

"Look at me, I am so spiritual
  I am so profound I am so wise
I know the Truth I am enlightened"
"mwah Mwah mwah Mwah mwah
Mwah mwah Mwah mwah Mwah"

and then, suddenly, this haze of
  pseudo profound spirit science is
Interrupted by a phrase that grabs my
  attention, with strange immediacy.
"Also, I've got some fire doses. 5 a hit."

"Oh yeah?" I say. "ME, TOO, and
"I know mine are better, best on lot!"
He seems taken aback, as if offended.
He says he'll Pepsi challenge mine, and
That I'll be proven wrong. I accept.

He then pulls out  
a shiny vial of
Lucy in the Sky, and
Without hesitation,
squirts a generous
Puddle of it onto my tongue.

"Alright" he says "your turn."
I reach into my pocket,
Produce a small vial, and
Reciprocate his action.
"Now, we'll see!" He says
to me, with an air of smugness.
"That, we will" I retort.

We talk a bit longer, and
I look down at my watch.
"I must be off!" I say
"It's time for the show!"

We exchange our goodbyes, and
I wander off into the night,
Feeling rather odd,
He thinks he's bested me, but
I laugh quietly to myself,
Knowing in my mind,
That my vial was just eye drops, and
He just gave me nearly 10 hits for free, and
All for the sake of inflating the ego
He supposedly didn't have,

and you know...

I never saw him again after that.
This satirical ode is targeted at a very specific type of person. Some of my friends are what you might call "hippies"; and within the various circles associated with that subculture, you almost inevitably encounter the self styled guru, spouting off loads of pseudo-profound hogwash, using buzzwords from cultures and traditions he doesn't really understand, and effectively cheapening and undermining them in a vain attempt to make himself seem enlightened (probably to try and get laid). What's worse is that almost just as certainly will you find someone, perhaps even a group, who hangs on to his every word. These types are especially common at big music festivals.
Monday to forget Sunday and Saturday.
Tuesday to plan Wednesday.
Thursday to remember Thursday.
Friday.

In the bathroom I polish my mirror.
Turning the hourglass wondering what I've lost.

"You've found nothing and so, you've lost nothing."

The voice of angel Death.
Heard only when I lose consciousness under bath water.
Rise again, search for God's scrutiny.
Wipe my eyes, blot my nose.
I fail to glimpse my siren.

Ah, a time to reflect.
A collection to publish.
A thought to be sharpened.
No.

Only words to be ignored.,
Tragedy
Melissa S Jan 2017
The way you kiss me
Reveals to me the kind
of person you are
Don't just jab it in
Be soft and slow and sweet
Use a little less tongue at first
Tease me then bring on the heat
Let me set the pace
Then you follow my lead
Slow it down this is not a race
Taste me ~ Savor me
Marinade me in your mind
Think of me until we meet next time
We can keep it going trying
as many times as we can
if it's not right change it up
And just start again :)
Kayla Apr 2016
we all love in our own way, in the way we can. sometimes that love is loud and bright and WOW WOW WOW. but sometimes its not. its quiet like making that drive. like looking me straight in the eyes. like giving you the left earbud. like mwah mwah let me kiss your neck. and on the days i don’t feel like sinking, i know i should love you better. like stop running. stop your tears. stop your lies. sometimes it'll tell its own lies, the best lies you've ever heard. it loves like contusions and strained voices. like bahama mama blues and my vampire eyes. love like the first time I saw you cry. like a Sunday afternoon, Tuesday night, or Friday morning. love like we have the answers. or maybe we don’t. i mean an unconventional love is better than no love at all.
Ben Jones Apr 2013
With a wide demographic of *******
There's average, massive or missing
There are ******* to nibble and tweak at
And cleavages perfect for kissing
But I'm of a practical nature
And with just a little persistence
I'll give you a host of good reasons
To justify ******* existence

They're perfect for warming your hands up
When the gas meter's run out of gas
And there's little that's better to look at
When there's no chance of seeing an ***
Elasticity makes them ideal
For displays and arrangements of flowers
And if you find yourself short of your bus fare
Then they radiate magical powers

You can use then for counting in binary
Or a pillow with mild central heating
And they're perfect for holding a bottle
To keep safe while you're busily eating
As a pair of provocative earmuffs
You'll be envied by all of your friends
Just be sure to take optional tassels
In case one of the ******* offends

You can hollow one out for an ashtray
Or a skullcap for cutting edge Jews
You can throw them about like a Frisbee
There are just so many options to choose
But they're useful right where they're located
And not just to tickle and tease
Just give them a couple of decades
And you'll find them protecting your knees

MWAH! x
lucidwaking Jun 2021
Mwah, mwah,
I'm so sorry.
Sorry, sorry, sorry -
Sorry for all the sorrys.
I have to apologize for everything I do,
For who am I if not a self-acknowledged failure?
Who am I if not a cluster of catastrophes?

My words are empty;
My apologies are emptier than loneliness.
I'm sorry,
I'm sorry.
I said I'm sorry-
I know, but I said I'm sorry.
Please, please I wanna say sorry;
I wanna be sorry.
I know, I know...
But I'm sorry.

How do I unwind my trail of sorrys?
How damp of a marker will I need
To scratch out "sorry" from my thesaurus?
Just what will I do without my precious little word?
My sorry - my keeper, my comfort,
My obsession.
Now say that you forgive me,
Come on.
Say it, please, I'm begging you.
I need it more than life itself.



I'm so sorry.
Critiques welcomed! Thanks!
ghost queen Apr 2020
It was getting dark when I exited the Port d’Orleans metro station. The cold air hit me instantaneously, seeping in between my clothes and skin. I tighten my long coat around me, readjusted my back pack, and pulled out my phone to confirm the address of Tango à Paris. It was only two blocks north of where I was standing.  

It was my first date with Séraphine. I had suggested dinner. She suggested something less formal, a bit more active, how about tango, explaining her studio gave a hour long introduction before the milonga. I agreed, as I had taken a year of tango, and felt confident I could keep up, maybe even impress her.

I’d wondered how she kept her 5 foot 8, 130 pound-ish physique, swimmer lean, and now I knew, she was a dancer.

I liked this part of Paris, the 14th arrondissement, L’Observatoire, clean, tidy, having the look and feel of a Nordic city like Olso or Stockholm. The sidewalks were full of interweaving professionals, eager to get out of the cold, the drizzle, and home to their loved ones.  

I walked up L’Avenue du Général Leclerc till I got to No 119. I pressed the buzzer and heard back, “oui.” “I am here for the milonga,” I said. The door buzzed, I pushed it open, entering a small foyer with sign pointing up a staircase to the first floor. I could hear the muffed sound of music and feel the movement of bodies dancing upstairs.

I climbed the curved wrought iron staircase, the old wooden stairs creaking softly with every step. I saw the studio immediately: two traditional French doors swung open, exposing a gymnasium like dance studio, with clean, golden yellow oak hardwood floor. Men and woman dancing, swinging and spinning about.

I entered the studio, paused, and looked around. At the far of the room was the DJ, sitting at table, with two loud speakers on stands pumping out music at just the right volume: loud enough to feel the music, low enough to talk your partner without having to scream in her ear.  

To my left, people gathered around a table. I walked over, they were writing their names with a felt tip pens on self adhesive name tags and placing it on their chest. A woman turned around and smiled at me. “Bienvenue,” she said, “I’m Jolene.” and extended her hand. “I am Damien”, I replied, shaking her hand politely. “Is this your first time here,” she asked. “Yes,” I replied, “I am waiting on a friend, Seraphine.”

“Mais oui,” she replied with a smile, “she is one of our best dancers, talented, if not gifted.” Her head turned slowly towards the doors, my eyes following.

In the door stood Seraphine, wearing a spaghetti strap, damask black on maroon tango midi dress, slit high up her right tigh. Her shoes, opened toe, black thin strap heels, showing off her matching blood red toe and finger nail polish and lipstick. Her eyelashes thick, black, eyelids smoked dark, giving her the stereotypical look of a femme fatale tango dancer.  She was gorgeous, seductive, awe inspiring, like Bouguereau's The Birth of Venus. How could a man resist such a siren. She was goddess among women.

She walked over to us, said, “Bonsoir Madame,” and kissed Jolene
twice on the cheeks (faire la bise) as is customary among Parisian friends, then  turned to me, touched her cheek to mine, making the mwah, kissing sound.

I was intrigued. The kiss implied no longer an acquaintance, but in her inner circle of intimacy. It had subtle implications that set my mind racing about the meaning; it was also maddening, like trying to see a completed jigsaw puzzle while only holding one of a thousand pieces.

“Ca va,” she asked, bypassing the formal “comment vas-tu” greeting. “Ca va bien,” I replied. “Your dress is stunning,” I said. “Thank you,” she replied, with confidence.

She sat down, ruffled through her bag, and pulled out ecru opened toe tango shoes. I couldn’t help notice her feet, delicate, feminine, absolutely exquisite. I also couldn’t help noticing her tigh, exposed through the slit of her dress.

Before she could get up from the chair, an older man approached, extended his hand, which she accepted. She stood up, looked me in the eyes, and said, “it is rude to refused a dance when asked.” They walked to middle of the floor and started to dance to a slow, sultry, Spanish guitar piece. I sat down and watched. She didn’t just dance, she pranced, shook, and swayed her hips as only an accomplished Latin dancer could. It was amazing to watch.

The music repeated, slowed, and concluded. They walked off the dance floor, to the beverage table, topped with a variety of multicolored bottles of wine. He poured two glasses, offered her one, as they talked, she smiled and occasionally laughed. He bowed his head slightly, touched her upper arm, and walked away, as a cortina started.

Seraphine poured more wine in her glass and poured another glass, walked to me, and offered it. I took it, deliberately touching her hand as I did. She sat down, crossed her legs, the dress sliding aside, exposing her tigh, and asked me, “do you dance monsieur.” “Yes, mademoiselle,” I replied, as a new tanda of spanish guitar played. She stood up, extended her hand. I took it, stood up, and lead her to the middle of the floor, dodging couples along the way.

“Tango”, I asked. “Yes,” she replied. I move in close, wrapped my right arm across her back, pressing her body tight against mine, extending my left arm out in position, palm open. She carefully placed her hand in mine, her forefinger on my thumb, her thumb on the radial artery on wrist, as if feeling my pulse. It struck me as odd and was curious as to why.  She’d done it in a such a methodical way.

Her hands were warm, soft, supple, dewy. She closed her grip and waited for me. I swayed gently to the beat of Tango D’Amor by Bellma Cesepedes, as she rhythmically matched my body. I stepped back on my right foot, holding her tight, bringing her with me, then left,  then forward. My chest pressing into hers. My leg brushed against her tigh as I moved, slow, slow, quick, quick, slow of the basic 8 count. I paused for a second, for her to cross then pushed forward, slowly turning to avoid couples.

I sensed her body heat, felt the wetness of perspiration on her back, smelled the earthiness of her scent. She radiated animal magnetism. I couldn’t, nor wanted to resist her. I knew I was a moth, she the flame.

New music started to play, Fuego Tango by Athos Bassissi, a traditional fast staccato accordion piece with a distinct beat for walking, turning, and swaying. I placed my my hand between her shoulders. I couldn’t feel a strap. She wasn’t wearing bra. It felt intimate, seductive, only a thin layer of cloth between us.

She pulled her head back, looked at me in the eyes, and said, “Tighter, I need to feel you, your body, your moves, so I can respond to your body.” I wrapped by arm completely around her, pulling her tight against my me. My primal urges welled up. I wanted her, to kiss her, to protect her,  to provide for her, have and raise kids with her. I felt stronger, more powerful, like a man. I wanted her in my life before she disappeared forever.

She placed her forehead on my temple. I rocked back and forth catching the beat, stepping backwards with my right, and we started to dance, slow, slow, quick, quick, slow, in a vertical expression of horizon desire.

Bending my knee, sliding forward, my chest pressing against hers, pushing, stopping, shifting, subtly twisting, I signaled a backward ocho. I waited for her, than slide to the left bring her with me, waited for her to pivot then slid right, bringing her with me, then waited for her to center. I walked forward, stopped, signalling for her to cross. I waited for the beat then finished my eight step basic.

I could feel her breath on my cheek, fast, hot; felt her breathing, her chest rising, falling sensuously. She felt good in my arms, as right as rain. I liked holding her, feeling her so close to me.

I started an eight step, stopping at the cross, signaling her to move right in preparation for a scada. As she moved, I stepped between her legs, pivoting her and me 180 degrees, repeating the step 3 times, bringing her back to cross, and finishing the step.

I heard her audibly exhale, relaxing in my arms. She was giving up control, learning to trust, surrendering to me. And I, was one with her, nothing else mattered, all else had disappeared. I was in a state of deep mediation. She was the now and forever.

The music stopped, I looked at her, noticed the glow in her cheeks, felt the warm moistness on her back. But most of all, I noticed her dilated pupils. The glowing sapphire blue of her eyes, replaced by a fathomless blackness, which I fell into.

She looked into my eyes with a gentleness, a knowing, and smiled. A new piece started, Rain, by Kantango, clean, crisp, staccato. I moved, walked, slid, in step with the beat, losing myself in the sensuality of the music and the movement of the dance.  I pressed her tight against my chest, sliding forward, rock stepping backward, holding her tighter as I did a single axis spin. I heard her sigh in my ear and felt her body relax. I slid forward to the staccato rhythm, dramatic, forceful, almost charging.

I stopped and lean to my left. She extended her right leg back, and planeo-ed as I walked her in a circle, side-by-side rock, then to neutral. She tighten her hold, pressing me into her chest, her touch telling me so much, screaming her arousal.

I slid forward, to the side, staring an 8 count to the cross, going into a backward ocho, I shifted my weight, taking her into a moulinette, twisting to the right then to the left, as she elegantly danced around me, back to 5 to complete our 8 count.

I was no longer thinking, just feeling, one with the music, lost in the sensuality, in a type of bliss. I walked forward then back, turning her to the right. To my surprise, she extended her left leg, whipping it across the floor, then back, wrapping it around my leg, slowly sliding her calf up my leg, then unwinding to neutral. I walked forward, she spun around, and slowed her walk. My body colliding, pressing into her’s as we slowly stopped. She turned her face towards mine, raising her hand, touching my face, my cheek, gently turning, bringing it towards her’s, towards her lips. Just as we were going to kiss, she turned her face, my face plunged into her hair, the back of her neck. I could smell, Poison by Dior. I kissed the back of her neck, squeezing her slightly, as she moaned ever so slightly.
Ottis Blades Dec 2012
neck·ing/ˈnekiNG/
Noun: The action of two people kissing and caressing each other amorously.


Both thumbs hanging on the back pockets of your jeans
while leaning against the wall and biting your bottom lip
enticing the oasis of your tongue, your breath dying of thirst.

Your flirtatious smile already knows that it’s entitled
to the mwah’s, ooh’s and aah’s coming the way of your pout
little did you know of the kisses you could fit in that mouth.

it’s the mathematical sum of everything that’s round
it’s dancing in the rain under an infinite fall of X’s and O’s
it’s nibbling on a bottle of Hennessy before taking a shot.

While I hold your face with both hands,
my eyes never wavering from yours,
I caress your cheeks, undress your thoughts,

feverishly going in, taking all the time in the world
to taste every bit of you and savor the moment so to speak
with our senses fogged, ******* in a tangled rope, in a kiss.

Then I pull some back to slowly feel your breathing into me
your clouded lips in my fingertips are a miracle of humidity
the stripped walls of oblivion is the last frontier with will see.

Before submerging deep into the point of no return
before your ripe apple meets the delicacy of my touch
before leaving in me, flower of skin, every last drop of you.
Sarah Jystad Feb 2010
Oh, I can't wait until we can paint clashing colors on our neighbors' doors,
leaving love notes in star-shapes, saying ha ha ha ha, We love you!
It's okay because the paint comes off when you kiss your love
and appreciate the sky and nod to your reflections in the night eyes
and fall in love with someone's mind.

But only then, only then does our message enlighten.
It's our life purpose to brighten your slacking eyes and to inspire you
to smile at the trees, to make eye contact with the homeless, to give flowers to strangers.
Blow bubbles, blow kisses, wink, and embrace!

Oh, I can't wait until we bury each other in sand,
Oh, oh, I can't wait until I can smooth all woes walled into your forehead.
To count your freckles and draw my dreams on our bedroom walls.

Oh I can't to wait to put olives on your fingers, put olives on your fingertips,
Because you have silly tendencies.
Don't let jealousy convince desire to worship ice cream cone gravestones.
When you bite your lip, don't eat pennies for at least a while.

Oh, I can't wait to play hide and seek with our identities and fidelities.
Oh, I can't wait to gather basketfuls of hope and lust.
Oh, I can't wait to hunt for honeysuckles and trust.
Are any sapien sexuals willing to step forward and comfort me?

Because I can't wait to see you again.
But, I can wait, I can wait, because
We blow each other kisses.
MWAH!
9/25/09
betterdays May 2014
little man,
you have had such
a big day.
all those questions
you ask,
all that playing you do
you did.

a lot of growing
and showing,
nana how big your getting.

kindy today,
cheese ****** for lunch
and baby cannonballs
(black grapes).

after that,
we visited friends,
walked to the rockpools

snacked on apples
and milk
lots of hugging and laughing tickling and giggling.
to smile so hard,
must take lots of effort.
no!

then to eating,
that big, yummy dinner
of macaroni and cheese,
must of worn you out.
even after that,
baby, bannana split
you're not tired?
oh!  it is just your eyes
that are getting sleepy

now to leapad learning and choosing story books lots of things,
ticked off your list

now it's bathtime,
my friend,
splashing and bubbles,
shampoo and rinse.
then some time with humf  and hoot.

cuddles with dadda,
kiss for nana,
story and song,
then, my big boy,
bed is where you belong.
all night long.
mwah from mumma.
australian translation:
****** =sandwich
humf = furry little monster tv show, gentle love each other messages
hoot = tv puppet presenter,
aqua blue and purple owl. takes kids through go to bed routines... helpful to calm little fellas down
i think thats about it.
Ntsika H Sep 2019
If I had a Rand for every time I heard that, I’d be a good R10 richer in the space of 3 years and 10 potentials. I know what this looks like but, for the first time in the history of man, can I say... It’s not what it looks like.. and, it’s actually not what it looks like

I’ve given so much of myself to the well-being of her and she gave me the default response for every female that claims that they want a good man until they encounter one. I am not ready.

She laughs in my company, and genuinely laughs without the fear of being hurt. Between my bad jokes and painful roasts, she finds safety without any attachment. She gets all of me without having to commit to a forever that will leave her happier than she would be chasing the so called “f-boy”
I guess females these days tend to hide behind their words. They say what they don’t mean and they don’t mean what they say so when it’s time to account for what’s been said, they plead the fifth with evidence being the very man they hit with their most famous line. I am not ready.

The best part is when they tell you how they need you but they’re too scared of heartbreak, but if they’re ex called, they’d offer him the same opportunity to break their heart all over again, so when a guy like me comes into to town to turn that frown upside down, she boldly reaches in to her timidity and ignorance, and with all the strength she has left to make a good decision, she says .. I am not ready, but surely if he came back and apologized, you wouldn’t think twice about the compromise, and you’d fantasize about all the lies, and the tears you cried and somehow, your ******* would let this ***** back into your life!

I’m sorry, none of you are ******* but y’all do stupid things, just like we all do. I guess my frustration is you know I can treat you better but you’re settling for someone who’s settled in on being less than the man you need him to. I know I’m not perfect, neither am I judgmental, but I bet you R10, I’m further along than he is with treating you right.

I’m not promising rainbows and sunshine. I’m promising consistency. I will consistently fall in love with you even on days you don’t love yourself, or even me. I understand that people fight all the time, and I heard make up *** is pretty amazing so will I intentionally fight with you every now and then? No, I won’t. That’s a lie, yes, I will. I guess it wouldn’t be purely based on making up afterwards. I guess it would be based on my fears and insecurities, so sometimes I’ll fight with you to see if you’re still down for me and I know that doesn’t make sense, and I told you I ain’t perfect, but I’d love to still feel wanted even on days I don’t want to be myself.... or on days where I beat myself up for not doing enough, while having 24hour days, and no sleep.... trying to chase a dream that I can’t wait to live out - with you.

I won’t promise you anything I can’t deliver. So, you’re going to be very familiar with kisses... yeah, I will kiss you for anything and everything.. break a nail, mwah, love you boo! You make me laugh, mwah, love you boo. Drop a smelly bomb... you guessed it.. mwah, I love you boo! I grab ***, anytime. Sometimes, by accident but mostly on purpose. I give lengthy hugs. If you’re running late, that’s on you... not me.. come give me some sugar.. I love loving on you in any and every way, and your voice would be the soundtrack to my life.. I will cherish your presence almost like everyday is the last day I have with you, and sometimes, I hold grudges, but just kiss my neck and I will even forget what I was mad about

What I’m trying to say is love will always be present. The absence of love is something you’ll never know of. I will make you so happy that, days will feel like....... sorry... what... oh? You’re not ready?...
she begged
dont forget about me
dont let me go
kiss me before you leave
how could i
wish i didnt have to
here
mwah

i pleaded
take me home with you
here take my shirt
come back with me
how could she
she wished she didnt have to
no
i cant

above acorns
plosive "p's"
slurred and lisped "s's"
bare feet crying out
i began
humming
what used to be called
dub
we kissed
and
as our lips vibrated
cracked and dry
pseudo-moistened with
yesterdays scent
my smile showed first
then hers
then mine again

all too easy to close
the door clanged
and with a creak
the window revealed
what i was losing

one more for the road
Kathleen Sep 2013
You asked me today why I wanted to harm my body, you said everything was perfect and happy. You didn't understand why.  I couldn't answer and said that I didn't know. I hope you read this so you'll know. It's an addiction, something I'm so used to. It's something that I love doing. I love the marks it leaves, the straight perfect red lines or the faded beauties.  And I think the blades are so beautiful, and captivating. I know this is strange and sad, but it's my mind.. I love the blood, and the clean up. Being the doctor of my own self, and harm. I love the silent mind it gives me, the indifferent feeling, the numbed mind. Those feelings are almost better than the straight happiness you deliver to me. But I've kinda figured out that even if I'm happy, I'm sad, or angry. Or whatever else. It's just hidden, and it stinks for lack of a better word. And believe me, I do not want to have this weighing over me for the rest of my life, and I do not want to feel like this forever. I'm just comfortable with it, this sadness, and I don't think I know how to let go of the harming. But I'm not giving in, even though I feel as if I'm close to giving up however many days I've been without this. And I think I've explained to you before that I'll do other things, and I do. I try not to though.. I want you to know that I'll be fine though, I am okay. I don't need you to try and fix me, or cure me of whatever this is. I just want you to be here, and make me laugh when I'm sad. I'm very grateful I have you though, thank you. I love you, ***. Mwah~
Cried throughout writing this. Meant for someone specific. Not really poetry, just whatever..
deenah Dec 2012
anya is the best shes better than the rest she puts me to the test and never wants to rest we come to school we never want to fool we love to dance we never grance we hate to fight or we might break the most inportant thing in our lives being friends                    luv uew maree xoxo mwah!!! ;)
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
╰⊰✿´ℒ♡ⓥℯ '✿⊱╮
Born from the Han Dynasty
For the royal court
Look, it's powdery cocoon
of thin, flavoured strands
has nutty fillings
a delicate treat
so fluffy
Mwah!
╰⊰✿⊱╮
Fourth Epulaeryu for the day!
*** 169 followers! YESSSSS! THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOOOOOUUUUU!!!!
Sorry that I haven't responded to any messages yet, today was so long!
And I'm making Dragon Beard Candy for the first time - vanilla flavoured!
I'm watching it cool down like a hawk...it's so fricking slow, it's driving me up the wall! But I'm in awe of how delicate it is. I can't wait to see how it tastes!
Be back soon!
Lyn ***
^-^
死者 Jan 2019
i left my toothpaste at home on purpose
i went to your house for fun
you looked so nice
longing stares
it's time for bed
oops i forgot my toothpaste
can i use yours
yeah? thanks
mwah
oh, so you use mint flavor?
i changed from bubblegum to mint after
Braedon Mar 2019
Hey, it was good to hear from you again
And I'm sorry I didn't say stay as my friend
And sorry that I didn't want to be holding your hand,

You need to let go
And yes I know
"I'll stay till my last breathe,
Even it's your death first".

Sorry to you and to us.
But this is a final goodbye to this,
So here have one last kiss.
Mwah
Joe Thompson Nov 2020
Someone left a barrel of laughs
At my front door.
I was suspicious, of course,
Not knowing who sent them
Or where they were from.
So instead of opening it
I crouched down and put my ear next to it,
Listening - to guage what sort of hilarity might be contained within.
Guffaws might indicate cruelty.
A self satisfied chuckle might be ironic.
A mwah haha would surely indicate - well, I think that's pretty obvious.
Were they the laughs of a person
With nothing left to loose?
Or the laughs of a person
Who knows knows he can only win?
Were they the happy byproduct of joyous celebration?
Or the giggles of a child who feels anxious and embarrassed?
A few of each, perhaps,
All jumbled up together.

I looked up to see my neighbor
Standing next to me.
Seems It had been delivered to the wrong address.
He rolled the barrel over to his house where his family didn't waste a second before letting them all out.
It was total laugh-fest over there.

****, I could have used a good laugh.
I am holding,
my baby self.
I love you so much.
You are so precious.
Sacred.
Divine.
Beautiful.
You're sassy.
I love,
how innocent,
you are.
I love,
how you light up the room,
with your smile.
You are such a blessing.
Although you look fragile,
you are strong.
You have everyone wrapped around your finger.
You are intelligent.
You are so loved.
You are held.
I see,
your bright light shining.
I see you,
asking for exactly what you want.
I see you,
soaking up the love,
the joy,
reaching out,
taking it in.
I love your laughter.
I love how it feels,
to hold you in my arms,,
to watch you sleep,
so peaceful.
I love how adorable you are as you stretch.
I love your dimples,
your smile,
your blue eyes.
You're infectious,
in all the good ways.
I love how much you eat.
I love that you go for exactly what you want.
I'm so happy,
that you are mine.

Mm.
Seeing my young adult self.
You are on fire.
I am so ******* proud of you.
You are giving life your all.
You are having fun.
You are making friends.
You are dealing,
with a chronic disease,
like a ******* boss.
I am so proud of you.
I'm proud of who you are,
who you're becoming.
You are gorgeous.
You are so intelligent.
I love your curiosity.
I love all of the knowledge that you are constantly seeking out and soaking in.
I love that you're a bookworm.
I love,
that you,
have so many amazing goals,
and you are going after them.
I'm proud of you for making tough decisions.
I love you so much.
I love how you just keep going forward,
no matter what.
I love that you do extra credit,
that you ask for help,
that you offer help.
I love how involved you are.
You're doing all of these incredible volunteer opportunities
just because it makes you happy and you want to give back
and that is so beautiful.
I love watching you blossom into the leader that you are.
You have such a beautiful soul.
Such a beautiful soul.
You are such an incredible friend.
Such an incredible sister.
Such an incredible daughter.
Your voice is gorgeously amazing.
You are such an incredible singer,
musician,
writer,
poet.
You have so many dreams and you are going after them.
I love that you are friends with everyone in the choir that you are a part of,
the church choir like,
it's just so much fun,
to witness how you just like,
have such an infectious joy about you.
And how music just really lights you up and brings you out of your shell and you just blossom.
I absolutely love witnessing it.
It's magical.
You are such a magical being.
I love you so much.

And here we are today.
I am so proud of everything that you have accomplished.
You stepped into 30.
Oh man,
this new decade,
has already been so incredible.
You are working your dream job as an academic advisor.
Ha,
you are a healer and a coach with your own business.
You are so gorgeous,
such a Goddess.
I love it.
I love you so much.
I'm so proud of all of the goals, education, life experiences, personal development, certifications, everything that you've just
gone after,
and just like,
made the most of.
You are such an incredible, intuitive healer.
Letting that Reiki energy flow through you.
You're amazing.
Your ***** is delightful and delicious.
I love how she leads the way in your life.
Oo.
I love your strip teases,
so gorgeous.
I love how you love being naked.
And I love how free you are.
You are so held.
So, so held.
Oh man,
I am just,
have tears in my eyes,
thinking of everything that we've gone through on this journey,
and look at you,
you're thriving.
I'm proud of all the financial knowledge that you have.
You volunteered for two years,
how incredible is that.
And it's just,
you are so amazing at giving back,
to this world,
to this community.
And also,
look at how much you've embraced your intuition,
your vulnerability.
Look how well you receive.
These are such beautiful things.
You are so loved.
And you have so much love.
And you're so loveable.
I feel it.
I feel it so much.
I feel so blessed that you're here on this journey.
That you've been aligning with your unapologetic self,
living unapologetically,
embracing your Goddess,
letting her out,
letting her lead,
letting your ***** lead.
Oh man,
I love it.
I love your journey.
I love how much you've embraced.
I love your communities.
I love your friends,
like you,
have made such,
and created such,
an incredible life for yourself.
Mwah.
I love you.
And you have a beautiful, **** ***.
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
4/23/21
radz Jan 2020
Why does it feel strange?
Why did we change?

What happened to us?
We used to never cuss.

Why are we so far away,
Even when so close?

Who changed this?
It all started with this tiny kiss

Mwah
<3

— The End —