"probing" poems
The router's a strobe light;
I can't connect.
The microwave fritzed,
I can't heat.
The circuit shut;
guess no electricity.
Ayo no technology.
Let's talk ancient
philosophy,
NOT whether
Beyonce is a feminist.
Let's have a bonfire
and roast meat
cause none of us
were vegan
before this.
Let's light candles
in the streets.
Pray batteries die
on LCD screens.
Cause we were alchemists
before technology,
the versed probing
the multiverse,
thrilled,
lighting our golden
embroidery on life.
Now were just bored.
Coy toys to tied strings,
webs that touch
everything,
but the space between.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 2:31 PM UTC
I AM NOT DEEP.
I just think alot
I'm not weak
I just feel alot
I'm not probing
I just see alot
they whisper
oohh "she so deep"
I ain't loud
I just make words
echo when I speak
I am not
deep,
simply because
I utilize
my mind
to think!
Nothing more
far from less
than just another
intellectual
poetry freak
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 10:46 AM UTC
I’m rendered powerless. Just about breathless. I watch as each layer of clothing gravitates toward the floor. Strip off the clothes that enveloped his beauty. My knees begin to fail me. Through his stare it feels as though he’s already probing every crevice of my being. Eye-fingers ravish me. He’s bare. My eyes haven’t left him. He smirks, refusing to leave me a spectator. Clammy hands penetrate the chill of the tile lined room. He strips me. I'm sure he senses me shaking.. goosebumps begin to rise. We step into shower. The tap is high, the temperature hot. The passion as well. He’s capturing me. Rapturing my frame, Grasping me. Gasping for me. He pulls me into him.. into the air. My legs incoherently wrap around him. The hot vapors aren't from the water, but our lust we heed. It’s wet. "Think ya can make it to the bedroom?" My throat closes. Barley touching, the pleasure, pressure, of his words render me unable to respond clearly. I nearly whimper out an answer. The smirk returns. This act meant for cleansing morphs into such a ***** one. I’m miserable within myself, the sheer amount of desire burns. Pushing me to the wall his body presses against me. He pushes into me. His hips. His lips. I feel him sliding in and out, violating, his tongue twisting around my own. His body as well. We’re intertwined...
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 5:20 PM UTC
You must begin early
while it is cool and your head clear
discernment, a sharpened tine
probing the rocky darkness
for all things latent and destructive.
Be aware that the velvet sage
of the leaves belies their power
to take over every space, remember
roots burrow deep, anchoring in
fissures we don’t even know exist.
You must delve as close
to the origin as possible
or the **** you think eradicated
will bide its time, germinating
in the still secret ground
waiting for light
to penetrate the moist earth
waking the sprout
who voraciously pushes up and out
a curled blemish
in your otherwise carefully tended garden.
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 8:56 AM UTC
Hidden behind my desires.
Fantasies of ecstasy
frustrating me.
My body tempting me sensually.
Sexuality turning on me,
arousing my entity.
My fingers betraying me, ****** my body eagerly.
Probing between my legs relentlessly,
consuming my whole body; selfishly.
Weakening my flesh; this tantalizing energy
claiming the deepest depths of my *****
Scandalous imagery, mentally ravaging me,
seducing me, teasing my lips,
guiding my fingertips effortlessly,
long fingers dip, disappearing;
deep inside of me.
My ***** tightens, the feelings heighten.
Warm liquids drip, stone hard ****
pulling and rubbing it.
Wrist twist,palm grinding against my *****
legs clasp, my insides amass giving way,
As I spray, my exhausted body collapses.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 10:26 PM UTC
She was always
Simply
A
Lock
Away; all they needed was the
Key.
Those who found it
Lost it soon enough too.
But those who fashioned it,
themselves
Without deterring from the task
Without trying to replicate a lost key
With nothing but a
egami euqinu
In their minds
Of what the lock looked like
And what the key should look like
Only those few,
Few, very few
Wizards
who toiled to work their magic
Succeeded.
And they never lost their key
They necklaced it around their heart
A symbol that was now etched into
their existence
Entangled in the life of the veins
That this heart so solely depended on
Becoming one with them
Those were the lucky ones
The others, the ones she wished mattered
Were still only searching
Searching
Meandering
Probing
Ferreting
Still only looking for
A key that had once been used
And whose lock was now
Rust rusting rusted
With time.
Still searching
But never creating, of course
Always only searching
Until they found it
And then lost it again.
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 2:48 AM UTC
by Desmond Makatu,
Your visits are unpredictable.
like a ghost, you're invisible.
The attacks are inevitable.
You come like a thief at night.
You seize me day and night.
"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"
Cruelty unrestricted to age.
Victimising even toddlers.
Unrestricted to ethnic groups.
My life has time gaps.
Gaps, like discrete graphs.
Cracks depict thin line between life and death.
Grace bridges the gaps and life prevails over death.
Seizures still haunt me like a demonic wrath.
"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"
Attacks are brief, bruises lasts forever.
You offer questions only God can answer.
Quest for answers is like probing for cure of Cancer.
Death seemed to be the answer but God thought otherwise.
First seizure shook like multiple earthquakes.
Followed by a pool of darkness.
woke up confused, crowd's ****** expressions said a thousand words.
Migraines raided my head, exposed to enormous pressure.
Officially baptised by wrath of seizures.
"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"
You're a physical and psychological culprit.
Like a Yoyo, you take me into a roller-coaster of emotions.
Aftermaths of your theft are etched in my mind as if they’re on stones.
Behind my “poker face” lies devastating pains than physicals seen by the crowd.
"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"
Watch video on YouTube. https://youtu.be/VggXerYLOHY
Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 8:02 PM UTC
the night is
a coveted kiss,
and yet it hugs
us so, gently
clasping our eyes,
probing and parting,
a river laid bare
and revolves
playfully there...
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 9:43 AM UTC
I see you there
on your white sand beach,
in your little tight bikini.
Looking like a creamy white treat.
Infidel *****
Exposed skin
men all ogling your body,
with eyes like hands!
How would you like me
to take off my clothes in front of you!
Touch your body,
and kiss your lips!
Then you would see the effect you Infidel Flaunting Sexuality!
Your curvaceous body,
coated in sweat from the inflamed sun.
My blood boils thinking of you!
I am going to **** you American!
Put my tongue in your mouth,
kiss you!
Like you do in your pervert mind.
Your naughty fantasy
of naked man,
kissing you on a sunny beach,
tropical drink in one hand,
other hand rubbing and probing my body!
Infidel *****
Laying there,
so ****
you make me crazy!
Your passion *** will burn
in sinful fires,
and Allah will pass judgement
on your ***
I will **** you, for punishment
to your Infidel Flaunting Sexuality,
******* glistening,
lips red as the drink you drink.
Infidel *****
Jul 29, 2012
Jul 29, 2012 at 6:57 AM UTC
Gliding in air
was an eerie delightful hue
hanging high above violet and blue,
for eons no one had knew,
the peon pest probing around
the howling zoo,
rhyming and roaming
hiding and hoping
flighty the ronin
ran,
groping every moment he could come to
as a token to his gallantry
the guidance to his apathy
decided to devise his only strife
to live happily
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 1:53 PM UTC
She has a way of tormenting you
In every direction you try take
She gives you a curfew
Hoping, probing, that you, too, slip through the cracks.
I wanted to be a astronaut
To explore the universe
To find my destiny
Through the black hole
And out
Spaghettified or not
When my now cuffed-mind
Soared the air
With wings dispersed in the wind
Still when she didn't care
And thought I was harmless
She tried shooting me down
And got one through a wing
Now I think I want to be an accountant
Mediocre and sane
But who wants to have sanity
When you can be in it?
So I crashed into Hyperion
And as high as I am
She still sends her vicious winds
To try and cut me down
But her torment crafts precious stones
So in the interim
I'll hold on
Hoping that I can un-cuff my mind
Keeping a birds-eye view
Like a leopard waiting for its ****
So that one day
I can glide the universe
Wings distributed out wide
Skillful and experienced
So she can never shoot me down
Now
Perched on Hyperion
Patient and vigilant
I wait
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC
Busy bee eyeing the flowers
Seduced by the bright colors
Probing with the proboscis
Hairy body covered with pollens
Visiting the clovers and hollyhocks
Also in love with Dahlias and roses
Returning with the days fill
Honey sac full of nectar
Returning to the honeycomb
They are ‘Bee-ing’ happy
With all the sweetness
Just Bee Happy
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 12:48 PM UTC
Their eyes wandered,
Crowding the scene
But I averted
My own
To lend privacy
To the disaster.
Tears ran down her face
And cries were heard
And she muffled them
But the man said curtly,
Keep him crying,
It means he's alive.
What had happened
In an instant
Drew out,
As they stared
And I turned away
Thinking I was helping,
My eyes hardly probing
Like theirs.
But in the end,
I'm not the one
Who uttered reassurances
Or found the doctor.
They did.
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 12:03 AM UTC
On the face of it, there isn't much about this bird
To stop me in my tracks.
Brown, oblivious, busy with the ground
It totters along on stilted legs
Probing among the frozen fields.
It's the name that's the trouble.
Childhood hours spent copying pictures
From the Readers' Digest Book of Birds
Call to mind the name, 'Curlew'.
In my house, though, birds had Scots names
and my dad, a linguistic David Bellamy
Urged us to conserve these rare words
or lose them forever.
Goldfinch? Gowdspink!
Starling? Stuckie!
Blue *** Umm...
But the undistinguished gentleman before me
was definitely a whaup.
Curlew or whaup?
Which is it to me?
The English of books
or the fading Scots, maybe closer
to the bird's wild home?
Textbook reality
or romantic poetry?
Or both - can the creature sit
in two states at once?
"Schrodinger's Curlew", I think with a smile.
("Schrodinger's Whaup!" bellows the bit of my dad
that lodges in my head.)
Here, under a cloud of my own breath
In the low winter light,
Neither seems quite adequate.
And then, untouched by my musings
The bird spreads its wings and lifts,
Naming itself, with a long, pure note
And my heart, in two states,
Leaps
and breaks.
Nov 26, 2010
Nov 26, 2010 at 12:03 AM UTC
Kisses up and down your body
Lay cuddle start to feel naughty
Game of footsie under sheets
Probing strobing generating heat
Take my finger direct me to the good
Sun rising like my morning wood
Juices flow feel the wet
Anticipate pounding you're about to get
In your thighs staring deep in eyes
Inhibitions fly
Everything we try
Comfort there is no fear
Nibble whisper in your ear
Lap explosion need no muzzle
Sip it slow then take a big guzzle
Pulsating pleasure fills your body
Consistent pace no longer spotty
Caressing scars with healing bars
Pen will stroke till seeing stars
Let us strum like a song that's sung
Twisted like our tangled tongues
We are honey bees
Smoking trees
Tantric trigger squeezed..
Buck my shot
Push to last drop
Contorting from ******** shock
Rub G spot get three wishes
Only need one its your Morning Kisses..
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 6:22 PM UTC
The Pen
The pick up the pen;
The put it down again
(That sunken feeling, nemesis or friend?)
The pen. The Pen.
The pacing, the pressing up against
The period. Stop stopping
Again. Pick it up to put it down.
Pointless. Pshaw.
Please.
Please me simplicity. C’mon!
C’mon pen lemme pick it up
And put something down.
I’ll plagiarize the flow for a few words of my own.
I’m looking for inspiration from the great beyond.
My muse is missing.
I know the medium is a constraint.
I know inside
The set of symbols paints
Me into a corner. The parameters
Of my pen’s head worn out. I’m ****** The metaphors
Pressed. The pen is second-guessed.
A literate piece of poetic license,
The defense mechanism
Against the prison I impose.
Me, myself, and I inside
The pen pining for a purpose.
The nexus of picking it up and putting it down
Is perplexing me, is vexing
Me like a sticky keyboard key.
So, I’m putting it all down
With the pen.
The pen.
The picking it up: who cares?
The putting it down: pensive prohibition.
The picking up; what I left out.
The putting it down: polygraph precision.
The picking up where I left off:
The putting it down: priority, what’s left of me.
The picking it up, when I don’t even know
Why I bother?
The putting it down: passion
The putting it down: plea of let me be.
The putting it down periscope; I’m diving under
The pressure’s mounting; I’m down for the counting on my muse
To bring me back
From that inky black abyss once again
My personal sonar is
Probing the depths, of what lies
hidden within
the pen.
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 7:46 AM UTC
Inside the bunny suit
my ears are still small
and round, and percussive
sounds come to visit me
costumed in white muffles.
Inside the bunny suit
a bead of sweat itches
my nose to rabbit fidget
and wiggle-twitch where
my fingers can’t reach it.
Inside the bunny suit
a thin layer of nylon dots
inserts its silky self
between me and everything
I fumble to touch.
Inside the bunny suit
the outside world’s broken
up by a half-dozen holes,
and green strands fuzz the focus
of each fragmented peep.
Inside the bunny suit
probing orange lights
make kaleidoscope shapes
through those same cut
openings. They distract me.
Inside the bunny suit
I can smile at and feel
closer to the fantastic
creatures who surround me
in their own decorous skins.
Dec 18, 2010
Dec 18, 2010 at 6:17 AM UTC
Shade shifter, turn-me-red.
Master the colors and trick
the disguiser--
morphing electric skin.
Make novelty probing
into the dark
unknown.
Shake suiters with perfect
control, of all the senses.
In a savage land, or a rare
spectacle of courage
no under sea mountain
is too strong.
Or ocean to shallow
to fill the hole,
A schism dares to thunder.
In a serene wave
watched by a moon's
cyclops gaze.
Feb 2, 2013
Feb 2, 2013 at 6:07 AM UTC
You swell some strain on me,
You, middle kingdom!
Eradicating small detachments,
Of both sailors and marines.
They were ranked on islets and reefs,
With an integer of nine –
There in the island next to me,
I’m sure, you know who Spratly is.
Always wanting such detachment
To be eradicated by your own;
Now stationed
On a World War II era landing ship.
Your toy-ships came near me,
With 9-kilometer of the LST.
“It’s there illegally,”
How adamant that be!
I’ve tipped you off already,
Surely will I stand firm!
Then, you’ve countered me on! –
Opting for the ******** of more skyscrapers;
Those that are on stilts;
Now nearby two Reefs & a Bank? –
Nearby my darling Palawan Island!
“There is no room at all,”
For the negotiation on some point,
You’ve declared.
Oh, here’s my friend, U.S.
Left us with course of action to try;
Everyone calm down,
Be less provocative.
For often, he flies over;
Probing some stuffs.
You are the biggest offender, my friend;
In this dispute, you show no sign of slowing;
Or backing, down.
But hey, I won’t give up!
(9/9/13)
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
Marooned land-locked
on island earth
Born with an orphan’s
unknowable ache
Born with an empath heart
– always feeling too much –
mystic receptors wide awake
in a highly sensitive soul
It’s as if I've walked along
forever alone,
one step at a time,
lost in a restless nebula
from the earth to the moon
Consciously dreaming
to steal away,
bearing the weight of the sky,
upwards over the mountain,
away from these chains
that bind
The maelstroms echo
behind silenced, probing eyes
with an unsated thirst
to be wanted
dead or otherwise:
Never understanding
the reasons why,
spinning around in my head;
where "once upon a time"
was hidden,
buried alive
A lifetime spent trying
to unlearn the things
I wish I’d never
sought to know,
clinging to the love
I've touched in my life
evermore enwombed
in my heart
Passing milestones:
walking another barefoot mile
passing so many locked doors
without keyholes
– way outside the lines –
Choking on all
the latent words
lay fallow,
left unsaid
Always looking for
something dreamt
but seldom manifest
Growing so tired and weary
with no one standing by my side;
no one to lay down beside me
to take a rest for awhile
Just another chapter
in a timeless same old story;
another dark star
burned – out
– vanished –
into the utter obscurity
of a sky so close and yet
so far away...
Jesse Stillwater ... August 22, 2018
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 7:21 PM UTC
Her irises darting, probing.
Her tastes floated and churned behind mine.
Brushed, warm, wet
lips and tongues.
We kissed until it burned,
numbed but unsated.
Fear, passion, pheromones blended
flammabley
and ignited on a fire of psychotic teen heartbreak.
Stalking, trembling, steering my soul
past it
(but always dragging it behind)
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 12:41 AM UTC
Swaying her hips,
she asks him to dance.
It is a masquerade ball,
and she's taking her chance.
From afar she had loved him,
too timid to even try.
But now she is taking,
tonight it's do or die.
*Licking my lips,
I wonder if he can see,
How badly I want a kiss?
Can he sense my need?
My brazen desire
To just be pleased,
One night of lust,
Infatuation and* greed
He pulled her close,
lips by her ear.
"Come away with me,
love me my dear."
Taking her hand he left,
through the crowd and up the street.
Stopping only once,
To kiss her oh so sweet.
*My God, I wanna rip him apart right here
I'm so wet, I'm soaked through
I wanna lick, I wanna taste
I'll do whatever he wants to
I desire the feel of skin on skin
Please, just let us* begin!
Through the park they did run,
In a gentle summer rain.
Pushing her against a tree,
her pleasure was his aim.
Under the dress his hand did go,
While he bite at her lips.
She moaned into the night,
and rocked her curvy hips.
*I want him inside me,
I can't wait till we get home,
No, just do me against this tree,
I'll pleasure him, if he just pleasures me
I'm writhing, I'm wet
I want his tongue probing my mouth,
His palms splayed on my back
Then moving so much farther* south
He turns her around,
she now faces the tree.
Throwing up the dress,
He goes on bended knee.
******* are ripped,
as his silken tongue seeks.
Her moans get louder,
as her legs get weak.
*Oh, heavenly bliss
I've never felt anything sweeter
The feel of his talented lips
Just keep taking me higher
Although this is completely satisfying
The only thing I want is his entire length* inside me
She rocked her hips,
begging for more.
As upon his tongue,
her essence did pour.
He let himself free,
Sliding it across her ****
Then slipped slowly inside,
once he was slippery slick.
*Oh My, just what I was waiting for
I failed to conceal the moan I let slip
He pushed even deeper inside me
And I couldn't help but bite my lip
With every inch I felt it farther in my core
I let out a scream, begging for* MORE
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 3:50 PM UTC
The fallen leaves
are gauzing thin
as they lay decaying
on the forest floor
and the frost that formed
crystal by crystal
slowly in the night
with the morning
sparkles to become
the jewels of fairies.
She is fluttering
her feminine silhouette
flirtatious against the grass
so distorted
that your eyelashes
can not catch her
but only a gleaming hint
of gossamer wings
delicate and ethereal
is reflecting in the morning's
slanting sun.
You are tempted
into probing under a leaf
with a broken twig
seeking her soft footprints
but they make no mark
on the fragile leaves
or in the softened grass
and her clandestine space
is too elusive
for your eyes.
She is hiding
veiled and disguised
carefully concealed
and you can only see
the glittering cobwebs
formed by a hungry spider
into a intricate misted mesh
catching careless flies
and morning dew.
She is fooling you
once again obscure
and her transparent laughter
like the soft spoken sound
of a faraway subtle pan-flute
is floating with your
sheer wonderings
in the waking light.
Nov 14, 2009
Nov 14, 2009 at 10:43 AM UTC