"ovulation" poems
Ashes rained down on the fields
As fire rises
Nature has no shields
The elements' surprises
With declining yields
The valley of ashes
Where the sun shined
The planet crashes
Where the moon aligned
Life flashes
The world is ours
I hate humans
Make money buy cars
I hate humans
Get drunk battle scars
I hate humans
Oh, just watch the stars
I hate humans
I'm not one to stereotype
Did it for the rhyme
Smoking from the peace pipe
Feeling sublime
All we got is time
They say we got time
Deforestation
Exploitation
Marriage of children before their first ovulation
Predation
Degradation
Taxation
Starvation
I am dreaming of salvation
The world is ours
I hate humans
Make money buy cars
I hate humans
Get drunk battle scars
I hate humans
Oh, just watch the stars
I hate humans
My story's pretty sad
I'd love to stay and chat
But the world is just a rabbit hat
Oppressed women in Chad
Why so negative, it is not only mad
One finds beauty behind the evil mask
Its only one life you had
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 8:57 PM UTC
There's a passion that burns
within me that's never
more alive, than when I'm
In the garden.
And in the garden of
love, my favorite
flowers are the tulips.
They're especially inviting
after a bottle of Chianti
on a hot July night, with
John Coltrane seductively
blowing from the CD player.
Equally captivating, is the little
bud that lies North of the
tulips. And with the right
amount of attention, the little
bud, the pea in the pod, creates
a nectar of the gods that tastes
sweet, like honey to my soul,
like maple syrup to my spirit,
a heavenly sap that flows like
the beer on tap at an
all you can drink club.
Like Dylan Thomas at a
pub in Wales, my heart sails drunk on the tulip's fine wine.
And then like magic it occurs,
when ovulation yearns for
procreation, and on those nights,
On those nights...
I could spend forever in
the tulips.
Apr 6, 2023
Apr 6, 2023 at 2:20 PM UTC
I wanted to eat you alive with my heart,
Disseminate my love for you,
soul coughing a Heimlich dance routine
that struggled to keep us one.
You were to busy ignoring the coward
that kept me alive
to see the bravery fighting chance
and drawing curtains against fate
There was feeling in these young bones
where the medicine was make believe,
all sugar coated fiery tales to drive us to the well,
wishers of hope forgot that love is an effort.
Liars will tell you that there is just one,
and that one and one is one, and I too,
will lie to you but only to keep the placebos
sweet jesus if you knew the truth.
There's a colourful cobweb
I tangled round us
And yeah, I'd take the floor away,
if it would keep you falling for me.
There is not a thing I wouldn't do
to keep the demons from your door
And the wolves in docile dream states
Nodding yes to your every request.
But Memory lane is no place to build a future,
Lets move past all the haunted houses
and build the home from more than cards
glued together with coffee stains.
Fits of laughter and pits of passion
litter landscapes of love in foreign places
where speaking in tongues
becomes common language.
Blissfully aware of our ignorance
We turned a blind eye to status chorus,
breathing freeform jazz into
independent harmonies,
Shards of Shotgun Showers
Add bass to blissful dreams,
A sense of the real, reeling us in,
A foundation shaken in eternal sin,
As the sax plays us out,
its a standing ovulation,
that keeps us on course,
encores are for failures, and things that... stop.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 4:25 PM UTC
There once was a tiny bundle of cells that grew in my womb
without the assistance of fertility medications or ovulation testing
a surprise spontaneous occurrence of the first sparks of Life
a product of the kind of ******* that happens on a honeymoon
between newlyweds full of bliss, lust, and hope
My womb once thought uninhabitable to such an occurrence
boarded a plane home five days later
cradling this new truth-
The Honeymoon Baby
Weeks would pass before my womb would begin to betray its secret
3 days late- nothing
5 days late- nothing
8 days late- the little blue plus sign and a whisper from deep in me-
“You aren’t broken?”
For several hours my womb and I jealously guarded this knowledge
My new husband not known for his enthusiasm wouldn’t share in my joy
So I sat alone feeding my hungry heart on now debunked beliefs
“You AREN’T broken!”
Having gorged myself to the point of bursting on a meal years in the making
I looked with wet eyes to my then partner of more than half a decade
“we made a honeymoon baby; I’m not broken.”
No, he wouldn’t share my joy.
His eyes turned to windows in the days that would follow
They screamed their disgust into the wide open parts of me
as pointedly and with as much passion as his mouth could ever muster
It was then that I began to silently pray the baby away
My silence only increased his vitriol until with a blast he climaxed in his rage
and I felt the cold of the recently adorned wedding band against my neck
as the hands which had held mine so softly so often pinned me to the door
Finally my silent prayers gave way to a singular scream
“I ******* hate you and I hate your child inside of me!”
My womb cried to hear the prayer spoken
She cried so long and so loud that she began to bleed
She heaved and sobbed her rage into rivers of blood that wouldn’t stop for weeks
and earthquakes of cramps that would rock me to my core
The unstoppable current of tears and blood carried the translucent sac
that housed the had been Honeymoon Baby into the ***** porcelain bowl
The baby I prayed away that would never speak whispered up
“You are broken.”
The honeymoon was over.
I hadn’t hated him before that.
Six years later to the day we signed divorce papers.
Nov 12, 2019
Nov 12, 2019 at 6:19 PM UTC
\\\\\\\\\\___------/////////
Sitting in the blue-grey stillness
Of my bathroom
Temperature set to make a perfect
balance
between hot and cold.
Except I am leaning on the cold side,
Prickly hairs.
Porcelain bowls,
cupids, angels,
catholic saints,
preasthood,
Angelic ivory
white
toilet bowl
Stained with our animal ****
Over time creating cracks
Of filthy streaks
Just like
how humans carve into
the Earth,
Denying our birth,
Killing our worth,
By overstuffing
our girth
To hide our
true nature.
Ivory bowl
I have just released my blood to you
Blood of my ancestors
Sacred blood
Blood pasted down
in this lineage.
Deep, deep
womb blood
Blood of mistakes.
Blood of stupid conversations and lies
I lived.
Blood of my dear dear
Precious baby
Blood of shame
Further ingrained
Into this white ivory
perfection.
Blood of the savage within me
Crying to break out
While I stand stout
And pull my bow
Tighter and tighter
Sharpen the peaks
Of my fake smile.
I'm happy
I'm happy
I'm normal, normal,
Normal!!!
While inside drums cry
To be beaten
Battles rage on
in explosive contemplation
My bodies ovulation
Of fertile
Formation
....
Then the immunization
..
I try to move to the beat of the nation
But it's a boring station
Feeling my souls frustration
With this numbing radiation.
The baby in my body wails
I am NOT(!!!!)
To be born
To a ship that
fails
The sails.
I am sitting on this
Cloy toilet bowl,
a mirage of all that's wrong
Ring wrought
Fought
rung wrong
Throughout me.
I've been living so long
Killing my song
Killing my dear
Sweet, sweet baby
Hiding demons behind flesh
An obsess
to hide the less
Only ever the best
The best, best,
Best, Best!!
And now I sit,
In porcelain stillness
A full release of the wild woman
woven deep in my bones and blood
Now I sit
Smothering myself
in the mud
I was born in.
Once too ashamed to accept the actuality
of this physical form.
Now I sit
In the silence after
The storm.
Miscarriages, miconceptions
Flopped contraceptions
Illusions, lost directions
Miscarriage means:
a foiled outcome
Of something planned,
Lost dreams,
So strongly bound
Into my bone.
Now I'm feeling
Alone.
They say you must be empty to be free...
Pulling the scattered pieces
Off of the wall
Reshaping after
The fall
Courage. Courage.Courage
COURAGE!!!!
Courageous heart
How I let you fall apart
I'm here
I'm now
I'm ready
to grow
Run free
run strong
And let blossom
The seeds
you sow.
--thank you--
.. sweet blood..
.
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 1:21 AM UTC
A woman’s sin
Can cause earthquakes,
Mudslides and hurricanes
Woman is subservient
To these tornados,
Tsunamis and storms
It’s in her nature
For chaos to reign
Trying so hard to be good
Fighting what’s innate
Woman is a *****
A Madonna
A crying mother
Shifting like a chameleon
Woman yearns to be filled
Woman clings to despair
That unravels like a favorite worn shirt
Woman has devil in her genes
But is powerless to change
Fighting a losing battle
Woman needs attention,
Unbreakable pact of trust
Cause man is not tied nor bound by
Monthly bleeding, ovulation
Man destroys pain with reason
Man’s undivided mind leaves
No room for guilt
Man is ego in the moment
Yearning to stay hungry
Man grieves until the moment disappears
Loving the anonymous body
Lacking the ability to understand the mind
Man wants to expose what needs hiding
Man treks the land but fears the sound
Of acorns falling on a roof
Man recognizes there’s more to Eden
Than the garden
Man seeks to tame nature
But regeneration and rebirth rule
An only woman can assist this
As our toes spread out like tree roots
And ghosts sway in the branches
We’re reminded by the deer, the fox, the raven-
Chaos reigns
And nature blooms as it corrupts
Dec 26, 2011
Dec 26, 2011 at 12:38 AM UTC
Aksis (Greek: ἁψίς; majority apsides, Greek: Enhancements, Improvements) is the highest point in the course [orbit] of one thing. 10000.001 1000 hours on the moon and the moon [2] ... 34C Horse and P4 / 4 (see Cicero / PH3 screen) 4P * 1000-1010 = 3-2 George. ... (July 73) Jul 42 in Italy, Poland, Picture of Hiroshima P2 Columbus, Georgia, Europe, Columbia 100 MTN Toonberg [People] About 1683 - P ***** 4/4, Chen Xin Shibiru. Cicero / P / [2] ... 1000 to 10,000,000. The King's King after many high speeds of 3-4p of Master Cranial Winter of Hiroshima HD HD-DA ... Mother's Scandic Faced Keira is a poor and unhealthy injury.) I've got a headline. Taurus is in charge of the drivers, IPA women's wives (BBC Taurus IPA), IPA women - Pastor BBC Taurus - after suffering, woman and bishops hit on the easiest arrow for the arch. Hunter, the commander of the powerful is new. Papa Andrew you Howl Yellow Chicken Mm Agbarus Bosma Test for Sinestro 1 / 3-1000. Smart 4P George Elvira, December II - Pilot 2 ... 73 [2] 3 Original Script file. 3 42-38000 Preparing People in Georgia, Georgia Paz Two Years - Shell HTS Hiroshima, Paul, George P. 2. 1683 ... English, French, Colombo, Nintendo, Canuck Black Rory, agree with national laws . .. [2], Greece, Italy, United States in sports groups ... demand for space [4] [5] [6] ATL one but we do not read, "I have heard the head twice" but this is the idea, good. When a leader dies ... buried in the Paris Labyrinth, Tess and Brie and the Kronogods Ready | A pleasant place of residence held August 1570 [11: 5] Clement Bach Bali - the world's largest Cicero sea. More than two years Hydroponics / L-2 George ovulation stream.d special at the end of four years, [4] Google has more pressure 5. [7] Using the backpacks of Dr. Clarke's four Gadgets and Sara. "The German Parliament says the House says 4/357 100 Evolve Mobile 4 R / 3 1000 MPS: 3-10000 years ago to Mali P4 2.3 2.1 (4) Investing 100 years ago", George Thomas (he less than 3).||
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 6:30 PM UTC
There loomed a certain belief,
One that exhaled soon as she passed.
A sudden urge that fizzed over soon as the bottle opened.
Now granted you can still drink a soda once it's shaken
Most would replace desire for that of another, the discord
Of being splashed in the face by the very desire one in the same.
Drops of truth splashed everywhere seen as backlash, a sort of wrath
Spoken but never heard.
There was something about the contour of the bottle,
Fixed thoughts filled in ovulation.
Everything kept inside.
A certain vengeance that loomed in bliss.
If not handled carefully doom was immanent.
Each time she walked passed he'd shake the bottle more vigorously.
A cold fizz that quenches every desire steadfast with reality.
Curious he looked at the bottle, wanting to quench this need
He placed his hands on the top slowly unscrewing.
Her eyes connected with his, everything paused.
For the first time in a long time everything was beautiful
Sharing a brief look relaxing his shoulders.
He untwisted the top, for a moment she sighed
Feeling a release she hasn't felt in a long time.
His hand smooth against the contour of the bottle
He placed his lips against the bottle easing her to quench this thirst he's waited so long for.
This urge that dried the well of his throat.
She refused him the pleasure of her, keeping her fizz to herself.
Now he knows what it's like to be on the outside looking in
Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 11:55 AM UTC
The furrows are drying
in a woodlouse summer.
Each quiet year proves
they were inexpertly dug.
Empty eye sockets
the flowerbeds shrivel
and each tulip bulb is just
a useless ********
Earthworks crumble into riverbanks,
the defective rock
dances bed-ward.
The clay browns the water.
In the dusty corridors of sunlight
we are the balled up
little hedgehog
late for the earthworm
and the screen-saver, bouncing
but never touching the corner.
I’ve sat dumb and still as
words dwindle on a screen.
Somewhere else hands delve
into crowns of sticky, soaked poppy.
Wet and soft they stink
of sugar.
Liberated calves with
liberated hoofs gambol in mud
and rough tongues
curl on apple picking fingers.
Slugs glisten
With fairy-tale arrogance.
Happy and fat in a giant’s
vegetable patch.
Somewhere else the smell of low-tide
isn’t a crusting of salt,
seagulls, ******* and
a reminder of torpid shallows
but profound ovulation.
Nesting puffins, shearwaters,
an ocean view cottage.
Shepard’s peachy sky.
Summer is willing. Keep calm.
Count her freckles.
I’ve walked through the forest
seen hearts in trees.
Bark grows, gold stars roll
and the guileless acolyte,
not hungry but dry
bends over a keyboard
and counts an orchard’s
wealth in slushy apples.
Mud and sand on the carpet.
Eyes sticky and red. Not black.
Aug 2, 2017
Aug 2, 2017 at 12:30 PM UTC
sundays are for embracing
the gift of being able to
create life
in our wombs
even though
we missed that opportunity
during the fertile week
of ovulation
so on sundays we weep
and on sundays we bleed
and on sundays we keep
the heat
pressed against our bellies
and I’ll remember this poem
every 28 days
to remind myself of the magic
I am able to create
amongst my thighs
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 11:46 PM UTC
killing girls quickly, that’s ur kink
u love the smell of it
flowers placed in my infant hands
why don’t u talk to my dog
i knew u were evil then
sweaty rot down my back
leftover from where u touched me
in the corner of my eye at my local FoodLion
tracking the scent of my ovulation
u follow me, i’m only a damsel
spit pooling on ur lip
still hungry i’ve already fed u
don’t touch me
u texted me “<3”
that’s when ur ***** started showing
i’m pretending to b happy
covering my needy mouth
Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 10:34 AM UTC
animals attained angst amongst anvils
beautifully bound bruises bought
crimson crown crushed
collision course
calamity
defeats
down
dots
do
in
jean jacket
jewelrys jaded
kneading knots
knowing lots
leanining
learns
little
more more more
many more means
motivated keenly
necessities never needed
notions numbing numbers
obviously overriding ovaries
ovulation opens opal orion
questions quickly quest
questions
relevancy
resembles
rioting
roots
to
the
table
talking
telepathic
tumbler
tiring
toes
under
unbiblical
unification
vicariously
victory
veins
xy
an
s
?
...
..
.
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 4:32 PM UTC
#*Ain't no cracka-ass Russian gone touch MY **** growled Plebeia as she filed her rhinestone-studded fake fingernails to a deadly edge. She rolled her enormous seething mass to the edge of the sofa and glared, like a feral heifer, at the massive TV screen from which Vladimir P. beamed forth like an avatar of Orthodoxy.
*Y'all betta shut yo' ******* mouth, ***** howled Plebeia.
*All y'all Russian girls so **** UGLY Ima hafta *** me some shades so don't hafta SEE dat nasty ****
Plebeia then gathered her senatorial notes and prepared to present the accusations at the Russian collusion hearings.
May 6, 2018
May 6, 2018 at 1:31 PM UTC
Psychic glockenspiels come from western civilization to steely dilation
The sun may rise and the Swede's dreams looking for hindsight and elation
A cinema mon amour, the compensation spreads like their legs on ovulation, it's Ninotchka's dilemma with fornication
Firstborn of the soft-core **** of the thorny copulating, and yonder lying in waiting till you're a ne'er zaftig
First-form soothsayers, and strides of samba spies salivating with charm, you're a tinsel town in the maelstrom
Lick your lips, and lickety-split, you're in the instigation of salacious mating
Of a **** of minor, and crime of a major elemental nature, you'll get sentencing from the abyss of vultures
Jul 28, 2019
Jul 28, 2019 at 6:34 PM UTC
About animals, abortion, and abilities
About bouquets, Buddhism, and bilious people.
About cats, cars, and caring about others.
About depression, death, and the process of dying.
About eating disorders, evil step-mothers, and ecstasy.
About fattiness, fear(s), and the trait of being friendly.
About goats, ghosts, and greetings in different countries.
About happiness, healthy diets, and humanitarian rights.
About intimacy, icicles, and igloos.
About jack-in-the-boxes, the juvenile system, and justified ******
About kindness, kissing, and kitties.
About love, living, and ladies.
About moms, mediocrity, and medicine.
About no meaning no, feeling naked, and nature.
About ovulation, October, and court orders.
About periods, peskiness, and perverts.
About quirks, queerness, and qualifying for college.
About **** razors, and reading.
About *** Sudafed, and scandals.
About taxi drivers, tables and what they hold, along with thoughts
About UW-Madison, unfortunate circumstances, and unemployment.
About vehicles, valuable objects, and violence.
About waistlines, waitressing, and what a waste of time homework is.
About xylophones, xanax, and xanthous.
About you, younglings, and yellow flowers.
About zoos, zanies, and zaps.
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 4:12 PM UTC