"plundering" poems
When I look at you I want to touch
Sends my imagination into a Spiritual crush
I'm more than a dream my words make me real
When I come inside..you will feel
Passionate fingers touching every part
From top to bottom..Now let me start
Lay on your back my exploration goes deep
Passion so hot you can feel the heat
Legs up in the air if you dare
Exposed to me without a care
Tell me which way you want me to go?
I can do more than fast and slow
Lost in the motion of your thighs
Mounting your body I look in your eyes
Locked in a gaze penetrating your soul
Start with a rhythm then out of control
Ravishing writhing feeling every delight
Mercilessly pounding while your bottom lip I bite
Plundering your treasure in every single measure
Reaping rewards of ultimate pleasure
My Fairy tale Queen wicked with lust
Eating your pie along with the crust
Like royalty we lay satisfied from our feast
Successfully taming our inner ****** beast
My words of fantasy has you feeling this touch
Poetic kisses for the lips of my Spiritual Crush..
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 7:44 PM UTC
After I thought it through
the stigma felt abused
I cycled through the minds of others
exposing their consensus to my senses
for better or worse, I don't discriminate
I do, however, hate
without a second thought
suddenly, void of reason
in passing or in wait I would
indifferently abuse the scarred stature
what remained was waste
letting me think is a sin
there is no god who can forgive my mind
not that I condone the plundering of others
it's just that my father will never know.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 4:41 AM UTC
Wake Up Wretched World,
I assert my Indigenous heritage
I self identify
With the ancestors of my continent
Identity afraid to articulate
Culture, unknowingly belonging to me
Cycle of shame now shattered
Product of love, hatred, lust, and desire
europeans plundering my mother Latin America
In chaos and violence, my skin's pigment
Has been engineered through the mestizaje
Of my Indigenous forefathers
How could I not forget my lineage
When the historical legacy of modernization
Has been to massacre the consciousness
Of where my people really come from
Erasing indigenous pride
Making Paisano and Indio
Synonymous with poverty and alienation
Insulting the humbleness
State of hunger you've left us in
Original lineage within me disturbed
So you push me to ambiguity and embarrassment
Not white, not indigenous?
Pure indigenous brothers and sisters silenced
Not an exploitable consumerist market, not in your campaigns
Not benefactors of your philanthropic development tactics
Bodies too costly to abuse, no reason to bring them
Into the neoliberal multinational corporate circuit
Constantly driving them off productive land
Because they choose to assert their identity
Live in collective communes, not owing you nothing
Waiting for them to make barren lands productive
So you can take those lands too
Not capturing an obscure history, these are not colonial times
This is the legacy of the european presence entering mother Latin America
21st century still defiling Indigenous cultures to civilize and modernize
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 10:26 PM UTC
365Nectar #60 Devour Me
Fri. November 22, 2013 9:18 P.M.
Devour me...
A provocative passionate pouring
of pillaging and plundering...
A pleasing prowling
of a piercing plunderer...
A lovely, limp nymph
laid upon a sizzling alter...
Smoldering...
Awakening all the senses
a choking of lust
unleashes exhilarating
and
envelops you...
Effortlessly evoking ethereal...
a sinister seduction
seductively seduces
and hungry hips
breakdance with hysterical
Stimulating a surreal surge of a sweet seeping...
waiting...
impatiently...
For you to chisel
an unimaginable devouring...
S slow steady climb to the summit
of the ultimate ******
Time-
Time-
Time... a tool to employ flamboyantly...
immediately...
eargerly...
Expose my conquered heart
that leaks
of streams
of cream
of succulent sensation...
Expose my tamed moistness
that whispery whines
as you build a legacy
of torturous licking....
Seductively...
Slithering in spicy spirals
of stirring screams
from stormy shivers
of steamy anticipation
of your redefining touch...
Suddenly...
drowning in the sticky sensation
of all that is us...
A tender luscious love liquefying flesh
and penetrating souls...
We blend in blazing bliss
tapping taboo for titillating thrills
you rock a rowdy ravishing
inside me...
I whisper wet whimpers
and beg for bitten breast...
Our wrestling hips
hug, ***** and groan a hungry growling...
Pounded into saturated submission
I linger in lubricating dreams
for you-
to...
devour me.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
a virtual network is the perfect place
for an alien intelligence to infiltrate;
passing as any number of avatars &
spreading an anti-human philosophy
in the war between robots & aliens
w/ humanity no longer a factor, the
robots freely the pummel the aliens
w/ devastating laser precision; the
aliens retaliating w/ hot magnets to
heat the polymer machines to the
melting point; the aliens unaware of
the earth's default nuclear arsenal;
triggered to explode as a last resort;
mankind & machine joined as one &
as the aliens land their ground forces
a slight tremor becomes a supernova
& the entire alien fleet is blown out
of spacetime w/ such fiery havoc, the
never seen & long extinct mankind
becomes legendary for its viciousness
hav·oc/ˈhavək/noun
noun: havoc
1. widespread destruction. "the hurricane ripped through Florida,
causing havoc"
synonyms: devastation, destruction, damage,
desolation, ruination, ruin; disaster, catastrophe
"the hurricane caused havoc"
great confusion or disorder.
"schoolchildren wreaking havoc in the classroom"
synonyms: disorder, chaos, disruption,
mayhem, bedlam, pandemonium, turmoil,
tumult, uproar; commotion, furor, a three-ring circus; informal:
hullabaloo
"hyperactive children create havoc"
verb: archaic: havoc; 3rd person present: havocs;
past tense: havocked; past participle:
havocked; gerund or present participle:
havocking [ ]. ( )
1. lay waste to; devastate.
late Middle English: from Anglo-Norman
French havok, alteration of Old French
havot, of unknown origin; the word was
originally used in the phrase ‘cry havoc’;
(Old French crier havot ) ‘to give an army the order - havoc,’
the signal for plundering
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 8:04 PM UTC
*Jalwa-e-Mahtab Se Pahle
Rang Mehke Ghulaab Se Pahle
Apna Kaif-o-Suruur Dikhla Kar
Hosh Lootain Sharaab Se Pahle*
**Before the splendour of moon
Before the flourishing colour of a rose
O' intoxicating pleasure you exposed
Plundering my senses, before the wine was even poured**
— Translated by Jamil Hussain, Sung by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 10:37 AM UTC
He was only three foot tall, but
He wanted to be like his
Famous daddy
"The pirate" long bob
Plated
Silver
Toe
A renowned pirate or so
He told me.
So he looked around the house
to what he could find,
A hook was out of reach
As it was dangerous you know,
it could take an eye out
or if trod on cut your toes,
He would have defiantly have shed a
Tear
Or
Three,
So he found a spoon, not
Gold
or
Silver
Not plated precious,
It was copper it would have to do.
So he put his hand up his sleeve,
Holding the spoon quite
Menacingly,
I'll scoop your ice cream
From right under your nose,
One scoop,
Two scoop,
Three,
"Ill bounce the bowl upon your head"
"Then run so you never knows it was me"
"Who had eaten your desert from"
"Right under your nose you see"
He giggled and smiled a child's grin,
What next does a pirate need to be
"King of the sea"
A hat he thought,
As he looked around his fathers hats
Covered his head,
He walked in to
Table
&
Chair,
For it was to big over his eyes,
He was unable to see.
He bounced Off the door, the bed, the
Window sill too, with holes cut he still
Was unable to see properly,
So he got a sock with a patch on the heal
Putting it on his little head
looked in the mirror amused
By what could be seen.
I need one more thing
To be like me pa..
A ship to sail the high sea,
But he was only tiny 3 foot tall was he,
So he looked around
Finding a table in the yard,
Discarded but could be used by he.
"A sail was needed"
A table cloth tied to the back legs
To catch the gusts of wind yar see,
A crew was needed??
But there was only room for
Him
And his parrot
Reginald,
*******
*******
He would squawk at me,
A I dry one given and a pat on the
Head from me.
I was known as a captain on
My
Green
Sea,
Plundering the apple tree
The raspberry bush
All the berries were now mine
That I could see,
I wanted to be like my father when I grew up
But lets be realistic I'm three foot
"I'm four and three months"
Who would be scared of little spoon pirate me.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 3:34 PM UTC
scuttling across the valley,
the trench was deep and steep
scorching heat of the dry sun,
dried blemishes on the weathered skin.
Settling along the rocky facades,
hackneyed by the haunting past.
Sleepless nights of the perching predators,
Hibernating in aloof worlds .
Stymied by the wind in the barren land ,
Harnessed by the futile fears.
Simone Melchoir of the sinking ship ,
would not you go down with the fault.
Shunning away from natures affection ,
for every rose does share its thorn .
Sunny ends are reached ,
when the raging ravines fade away.
Slithering away the swirling serpent ,
The sun lurks in the brewing storm .
Sanctity of the witheld winds ,
sapping away the deathly darkness.
Serene air of the seraphic angel,
brought the plighting dreams to the refugees repose
Smelting ores and melting poles,
brimming with brightness the cradled cirque .
Summons of the exalted virtue ,
To burn the lizard and fly away like the phoenix
Succumbing to the wilderness,
to soaring heights and rising spirits .
Swanking in the soothing winds,
the phoenix looked down on the plundering valley.
Scorning at the downtrodden spirits,
The fraternity of the Desert lizard
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 1:23 AM UTC
As if the it is not the leopard
That has forepaw herculean
In the game of hunting and preying,
With reservation the leopard eats
Saving for tomorrow with punctiliosity
In the wary of wisdom about plundering,
That is not all about physical mighty
Not shrewdness of the mind
Nor flexibility of the heels
But respect for frugality as a virtue of the strong.
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 3:36 PM UTC
I remember it well
As if it were yesterday
We geared up and set sail
And embarked upon unfamiliar waves
It was I captaining the vessel
With One-eyed Sven my quarter master
He could cut throats and roll pretzels
His weapon of choice was his bow caster
This wasn't a mission of plundering
That alone left the crew in a state of wondering
No, we weren't looking for buried treasure
But for sheep skin seat covers and Scandinavian leather
My first mate Mr. Obanion said to me
"Captain are we off course?"
Then my boatswain , Wiley asked sheepishly
"Aren't we going for *** and ******
I looked them in the eye at the same time
"Gentlemen, this ship is headed to Dublin"
"We're going to see a good friend of mine"
"Now get back to your swabbing and scrubbing"
This was an order of business not some sort of cruise
I'm sailing with a ship of one track minded fools
We didn't set out on a vacation of leisure
Were on the hunt for sheep skin seat covers and Scandinavian leather
I did not mean to keep them in the dark
But they would think less of me
I needed these things
For the women I married
You see we'd been on the rocks
And I know she wanted these items
So I went over the sea with a fine tooth comb
Until I had finally found them
My men had sailed endlessly for months
They were worn down and ragged
Waterlogged and exhausted
While I always came up empty handed
But I had to save my marriage
Salvage my relationship
I knew it would work
If I gave my love these gifts
We reached the golden, calling shore
Of the beautiful Dublin
From the River Liffey and headed north
My friend Seamus let me come in
I came out shaking his hand
I was satisfied with my purchase
Until I was questioned by my men
What it was we came for in our searches
I had to show them, I was under scrutiny
I pulled out two stagecoach seat covers and a pair of pants
They were enraged and called mutiny
They blindfolded me and bound my hands
Now I'm marooned on some unmapped island
And I see my ship riding that horizon
This will sadden my wife, oh how it will upset her
She will never receive her sheep skin seat covers or her Scandinavian leather
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 12:14 PM UTC
Plundering corruption
A boy an apple from a tree
Son you know that is wicked
Come on, and follow me.
You saw that strange fruit growing
The poor a hanging from a tree
Let's sing another song boys
Call it US democracy
I free all kinds of good boys
In my old boy kinda way
From tyranical oppression
To the kinder Gentler me
And I say you must reform now
To our ever wanking little whim
Chairman Bush is on a roll now
Thinks he's facking Chairman Mao.
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 2:12 PM UTC
The Norsemen rowed in Dragon boats
And sailed the mighty seas
Through howling winds and snarling waves
They prayed to Thor for guidance
The Vikings travelled far and wide
To find their willing victims
One look at these men armed with swords
And they knew their days were numbered!
The Berserkas is there other name
And plundering was their game
A flash of steel was all it took
And untold riches came their way
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 6:12 PM UTC
#
My father said believe in nothing
My mother told me everyone will do you wrong
I thought to be taught a wise lesson
Sang along this song for far too long
Wasn't sure I'd know how to forget
or how to move on
My father cried only once
My mother never stopped her tears
Are we just vessels to be filled
with our forerunners' endless fears
Of a life that is begging to be lived
Just to be dead on arrival at the piers
My aunt said do what's asked of you
In the end no one could tell me how it's done
I jumped off the boat of broken ones
and got washed up at distant shores unknown
Though since then I saw many bright suns
never has anything clear been shown
Endless days of wondering
endless ways to go on pretending
always kneedeep in my head, always pondering
and how fiercely I'd like to be defending
the fragile insides of my chest but I let them keep plundering
hearts and hopes are constantly breaking and mending
To this shell I'm bound
for now my heart is cold and my ghost is still
in awe of what I haven't found
sitting on my mind's windowsill
wishing for a wind of change. May it be profound.
#
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 9:24 AM UTC
Cause I can't be
Your restless refugee
On the run
Baby I'm not the one
And I can see
Endless possibilities
Without your guns
Baby your lies are done
And I'm ashamed
Ashamed to become astray
Lost at all cost
Unable to maintain
This time fourth
And forever more stuck in parlay
Proceed to ones greed
Greed of today
Cause I can't be
Your restless refugee
On the run
Baby I'm not the one
And I can see
Endless possibilities
Without your guns
Baby your lies are done
Hallowed life
Life full of grief
Sacred sacrifice
upon a thief
Hobbies of robberies
Nightmare full of dishonesty
Lust for guts and glory
Never bothered me
Cause I can't be
Your restless refugee
On the run
Baby I'm not the one
And I can see
Endless possibilities
Without your guns
Baby your lies are done
Both hunger and thirst
Plundering lies
Lies came first
Followed by the cursed
Wasn't for the rain
The pain would never hurt
Coming undone
Just a negative sum
Cause I can't be
Your restless refugee
On the run
Baby I'm not the one
And I can see
Endless possibilities
Without your guns
Baby your lies are done
Harvesting hateful desires
Disgraceful taste
behind his gun to expire
blast comes the wrath
before the fire
Fountain the blood
thick as mud
dresses his attire
Cause I can't be
Your restless refugee
On the run
Baby I'm not the one
And I can see
Endless possibilities
Without your guns
Baby your lies are done
Jul 13, 2022
Jul 13, 2022 at 2:06 AM UTC
I am the ******* son of Nero,
the sad product of licentiousness.
A fact about my life
that I should really mention less.
My mother was a famous Queen
or so it is that I am told.
Unable to acknowledge me,
to the slavers I was sold.
But pirates attacked our galley
a few miles out to sea.
Bold, daring, fearsome men,
their life appealed to me.
Plundering, fighting on a ship,
I loved the pirates life.
Until one day I floundered
and took me a beautiful wife.
She bore me two boys and a girl,
I gave them all my affection.
Mourning the loss of my childhood,
my severed parental connection.
The children grew and flew the nest,
so leaving just two alone.
Then the plague paid a visit,
my grief weighs heavy for my home.
So now I am just a humble poet,
Withdrawn and cold, but serene.
Throwing words at a paper audience,
waiting patient for the final scene.
Well, wait there a while longer,
this ******* is not quite done.
I am not so ready to die just now,
that epilogue is yet to come.
© Pagan Paul (19/04/17)
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 10:44 AM UTC
the silhouette of two girls kissing
deep into the caress
deep into the tender
like they are plundering with feather light touches
in the flickering lamplight
the music drips through the dark room
like the leaking of bobby dylans mind
his voice torn asunder with spoken tears
with the gravel of a thousand hard roads alone in the heat
of an unforgiving sun
the girls are wrapped tight to eachother
like bubble gum wrapped in satin
you cant cast aside such delicate force of nature
it will saunter down and ask so sweetly
for you to take a powder while the girls get nasty
i sit on the hood of her buick
primer grey and fast
as fast as thick blood
and watch the stars dance on the chrome
and breath the thick air and see death dance on my fingertip
but most of all i see her silhouette leaning down
over me and sweetly asking
for my last breath
put cowboy boots to pavement walkin into the future
dragging the past that she wants
into the motel of the sun with its neon moon
where these two lover girls lay out by the pool
and soak up the sun till the world is in darkness
soak up the love like cherry soda
and plunder
the dance slow on the bed
while i'm curled on the carpet
but there's no desperation to be found
except in poor bobby dylan as he drips
like fine wine from the speaker
and intoxicates my dreams
with her eyes
with her thin bright wet lips
and her softly sweetly asking once more
to give it up honey buns
gimmie your last breath
silhouette of two girls french kissing plundering tender
so romantic
so loving
so long bye bye
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 9:39 PM UTC
touchy subjects.
hidden mistakes.
crashing thunder.
My heart, the rain.
Plundering down into the mess.
Trying to find hope in the dark.
Crying in a dark place.
trying to fix my mistakes.
fixing mistakes by not trying at all is not the way.
i tried.
but i made it worst.
No day is my day.
it really isn't
i say this not because i am broken or sad.
because isn't it true?
everyday belongs to the one who made it.
HIM.
He gave me another chance to live...
He gave me another day to breathe!
He sees potential in me that he would be willing to give me one more day to live.
When we die it's not that God didn't see the potential in us.
He gave all of us ample time.
Ample time to think.
Ample time to reflect.
Ample time to Love.
Amble time to Hope.
Ample time to help others, serve others.
The thing is.
I need happiness.
A true one.
"the one which would last."
I would ask.
I would want.
the one that would stick.
but surely.
through the storms i have been through.
i can rightfully and truthfully tell you,
that he gives true joy.
One that sticks for eternity.
One that is eternal, that will be.
One that is just so good.
so sweet.
so bliss.
so free...
i want that joy.
and you and i would never find it anywhere in any store.
True Joy.
True peace.
Is found in HIM.
The source.
The ONE.
He is the one I want.
The thing is...I already have him.
Serving him.
Has never been in second place in my "blessings" list.
It is so beautiful.
All of him that I have, would never be in second place of the list.
I want you.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 6:28 AM UTC
Ashamed to become astray.
Lost at all cost unable to sustain.
This Time forth and forevermore in a parlay.
Perceived to one's greed of today.
Hallowed life full of grief.
Sacred sacrifice upon a thief. Hobbies of robberies.
Haunting Nightmares of dishonesty. Lust for guts and glory never bothered me.
Both hunger and thirst.
Plundering lies came first followed by the curse.
If it wasn't for the rain the pain would never hurt.
Coming Undone.
Restless refuge on the run.
Harvesting hateful desires.
Disgraceful taste behind his gun to expire.
Fountain of blood thick as mud dressed his attire
Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 3:23 AM UTC
Its annoyance
Anointed
In pessimistic clairvoyance
Its the avoidance
Of the simplistic
And stoical
Components
Its motion
Less
Ness
In oceans
Of lip service
Its ***** potions
For the passionate
Its fake ****
And face lifts
Its abortions
In portions
Of subordinates
As gifts
In gifs
Of gorgeous
Ordinance
Distorted
In tortured
Tapping
Of the dead
Its all the fame
In shoving
The pain
Of loving
In the oven
Of stubborn
Mothers
Blubbering
Under the covers
With other men
Its the omens
Of the oh mans
In roman
Misnomers
Of fortunate
Misfortunes
Torn
From time
Its the mine mine mines
Confined
To their own kind
Pre signed
In old blood
Its consignment killers
Its the drugs
Its timeless thrillers
Its the shrugs
Its the thunder
Plundering
Structures
Rattling out
From under the bed
Its all the thoughts
In our heads
Blaring
The booms
Of the tamed
Its the assumed
The restrained
Its this tomb
Of shame
In doing
The same
Old **** again
And again
Its been
Better
Then again
I grin
When
Cold
Its when i should fold
That i embolden
Its all the No's
Its blankets nose
Its the cut blow
And lack of flow
Its fists and elbows
As opposed
To safety locks
Its ******* flu shots
Its everything
That ****** me off
Its the the stupid robots
And the silly riot cops
Fencing in the famished flocks
Its the *****
And the *****
In plastic boxes
Giving rocks
Off
Without us
Its the gold pots
And stacked stocks
Locked
From us
Its the Rocks
Inside my socks
As they knock
The blocks
Of billy bobs
Bobbling
On the dash
Its the harsh
And its the rash
Its inside the last
Bastion
Of dummassez
passing
Through the
Blast radius.
Alas
Its the mass graves
And the paved pools
Of anyone who knew
Anyone who stood
Its all us fools
As cool kids
Knowing
No show biz
In soul ****
Its in knowing this
And ********
And barking
At the moon
Soon
To swoon
None
I am peaking soon
In looming threat
Of lost concepts
Slipping away
Under the sun
Electing to quit
While im ahead
Way back when
It was fun
Way back when
It mattered
Its a gun
Shooting blather
Blathering
As a bladder
Would
Misanthropic
And misunderstood
A changed topic
Knock on wood
Bye is good
Goodbye
Told you
Its implied
In rite
So
Good
night
Until
next
time
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 2:59 AM UTC
I am a criminal,
So you and the papers say.
They would put me away
For countless nights and days.
Tucked away "safe" in jail,
All for the choice of herbs I inhale.
That they would only have their way...
Yet I am no marauding mobster,
No gangster for hire.
I smoke in the evenings
When daylight is fleeting
And withdraw to my rooms to retire.
I am no plundering pirate
Pillaging your private property.
I go about my day,
As right as I may,
You will find no evil protégée.
I am spoken in the same breath
As delinquents and undesirables.
The infamously unfavourable,
Mire on our tireless society.
Well I am tired now,
Fatigued.
I've grown weary of living
In your narrow minded
Make believe.
Yet I leave you be.
Keep to mine and own.
It is you who lights the torches
From high deluded throne.
It is you who crafted and rounded
That perfect stone,
Hurled with such indiscrimination
Always many, never alone.
Each night now I wonder,
When I cross that imaginary line.
Such fools we've been,
The waste obscene,
Who really commits the crime?
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 8:01 PM UTC
Flummoxed,
In labyrinths of
Baleful forests with
eyes of gibbet makers
and buried undertakers
through gloaming sights,
hobbling towards the light.
The silver teeth of
obeisance sundering will,
plundering peace,
blazoning smiles of
malicious beings.
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 12:37 PM UTC
The dream state number one
The caught artist within the vortex
A drowned state and lost soul
As the eyes swirl and look up
And look up until they drop
A strange aridity covers the flesh
Gauze revealing the idea
Leaving enough hidden.
The final trip - californication?
The restaurants’ in New York
Blatantly bare. Now Iconography
Undersigned scarcely unmade up
The deep eyes plundering a life
Through an eye for art maybe
Taken from the mesh.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 6:31 AM UTC
stealing other poet's poems
is so rampant and rife
looters will attest to the works
being of their original life
with a swag of online poetry sites
used by plagiarists plundering
no poet's heart and soul efforts
are dismissed from the sundering
pilfers of verse ever busy themselves
they're such industrious thieving elves
should they take a fond liking
for what you've written
they'll stow your wonderful lines
in a crook's mitten
copyright and true possession
of materials you've produced
get no attention from they who've
a penchant for something re-produced
under our radar they
do the wicked deed
could be said they are
so unethical of creed
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 7:05 PM UTC