"promiscuous" poems
I'm transparent like a window
but I'm prone to keeping curtains closed
to cover up my youthful,
aching, naked soul.
I used to be promiscuous;
my essence on my sleeve.
a charming laugh; a crystal glass
from which many a fool drew drink.
A chalice of life;
warm like cinnamon wine,
soft like angel's delight.
Beheld by every eye.
But it never felt right;
I was smoke off a fire,
yet still smouldering coal.
Just a young, beautiful
byproduct of desire.
There's no smoke without fire.
Although, I tried to fan it cool;
the flames ran only wilder.
But as the old wind blows, it seems
a withered tree still grows new leaves.
A dandelion spreads its seeds
but they lie far away from me.
Now, I move transcluently-
ultraviolet invisible ink-
I speak in soothing whispers;
they travel further than you'd think.
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 12:26 PM UTC
I see you!
You’re a chancer, an unusual impulsive, persuasive & promiscuous soul; unconcerned with remorse or guilt!
You’ve created a life & career through crazy schemes and dreams!
You have a certain glib, superficial charm and an impressive sense of self-worth and I liked that; but not the drama.
If only you’d had the gumption to formally introduce me to the genuine you, without fear of rejection; you ****** fool!
X
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 9:02 AM UTC
A little promiscuous thought.
Bubbling to the surface of your mind
like molten rock from earths core,
It rises
rises
rises
rises
until it reaches the brim
Then without any warning
It erupts, and destroys everything.
The ashy residue comes raining down
cloaking the once green valley with blackness
the melted rock moving like molasses down the hill
turning everything that once was
into nothingness.
After the disaster seems over,
Things will regrow from the madness
Just waiting for the next eruption.
Just need some way
to control my volcano.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 6:30 PM UTC
Men give less value to a Promiscuous or immoral woman, and sometime she’s a victim not the circumstance, why do men hold less value to the hurt that is caused because they heard you get around or you trusted them with your secrets?
Some choose to pursue a faithless, unworthy, or idolatrous desire only to find out this person this ***** does have a heart and *** is not meaningless ,to scurry around and bounce from bed to bed giving disregard to the countless broken hearts laid by a path of deceitful pleasure should you be so lucky??
Who gives a **** about a ***** or ***** or ********** they’ll get over it, there used to it, does it not come with the job or there easy! Not always true even a ***** needs love or the ********** needs genuine affection.
Why do you not care enough to hold them and or ease their pain if their hurting as well ,defined love and what’s valuable to you ….I don’t care about her I hurt my family but you cared enough to slip your **** up in her …and or have it ****** !
****** have feelings too!
You took your time and played out the situation, found a vulnerable place to lay you head even enjoyed getting in between this WHORE's legs ,now you’re feeling some sort of way and she has to go because after all she’s a ***** and the pleasure was mutual, she was your refuge an open ear in your time of need ..But she still a *****
WHY bother??
written by Monica Chrisandtras Hines
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 5:00 PM UTC
7:43
and i’m trying to not write your name,
you never appreciated my rhymes
maybe that’s why your name doesn’t rhyme with anything.
7:44
and i’m thinking of someone new,
someone better than you
i swear just one more drink then i’m through.
7:45
and i’m out of my mind,
head over heels for someone who’s not even mine
and once again i’m forced to leave you behind.
7:46
and your name makes me sick,
you’re such a
and i’m beyond over you and your heartless tricks.
7:47
and she makes me feel like i’m in heaven,
thank god you showed me hell
thanks to you my swollen heart's getting well.
7:48
i realize it all now but it’s too late,
you’ve already played your promiscuous game
thankfully she told me she loved me and stayed.
(god, in five minutes so much has changed)
Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 11:44 AM UTC
I became celibate
quite a few years ago
only in part
because of religious reasons
but probably mostly because
the *** was so bad
so after I became celibate
and after much meditation
I experienced a new kind of ***
for me,
these internal *******
from kundalini flow
and to me,
it is better than regular ***
and I have it
much more frequently
like entire days of ******
so that sometimes
I think that I am not celibate
but actually
have become
a bit too promiscuous.
Sep 20, 2011
Sep 20, 2011 at 5:57 AM UTC
Confined to eternal asphyxiation
They live a suffocated existence
No hope to regain what they took for granted
They showed no regard for earth, air, or water
This polluted wasteland, their planet
They cannot love each other anymore
Their punishment is solitude and xenophobia
What privileges they had, once upon a time
Affection and love, and interpersonal immersion
Now doomed, forever, to be alone
In this world destroyed by greed, desire, and lust
For power, the human beings atone,
They do not deserve to be alive, let alone
To walk aware of their wrongdoings
They should have been erased
I would have loved to be the executioner
Of billions sinful, lying, cursed, wretched,
Vile, incessant, promiscuous, vicious, insidious,
Slimy, wily, evil creatures humans are
Instead I have become their saviour
I feel no pity or sympathy for the Devils
They became in exchange of their materialism
I see them walk in masses of melancholy, loneliness
As I once did for which they showed no regard for me
And heartless, I ignore their silent cries for help
You are sentenced to life in prison, one like no other
Free to live in a society which shows more confinement
Than any man-made cell or coffin
Elements you took for granted shall be stripped away
Your sinful quest for immortality has led you accordingly
It is forbidden to breathe the air you polluted,
Drink the water you tainted, eat the fruits of the earth you destroyed
Your senses will be nullified and your spirits
Crushed as this planet was insufficient
For your corrupted existence .
Dec 3, 2009
Dec 3, 2009 at 11:38 AM UTC
I stare at the television news....
Assaulted by violence
Stunned by the inhumanity of a
Godless society
I listen to the radio....
Embarrassed by ads that tout
Promiscuous pleasures
Outraged by the thinly disguised
Decadent discourses of the shock jocks
I read the newspapers and magazines....
Cuckolded by corporate America a
Loser in the games politicians play
Violated
Shamed
Cheated and
Betrayed
I try to turn it all off….
but like a bitter pill the distasteful images linger
nor can I go along with eyes shut and ears muffled
living
or not
in a padded room of my own making
I cannot function without information….
tho my senses are
Wounded by the
Brutality of the media
I yearn for thoughts to ease my distress....
like a mother’s soft whispers to her crying baby
like the beauty that shines from faces that know love
I don’t want the perception of reality that the media rapes me with....
I want the truth revealed by God in His creation
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 9:06 AM UTC
2003, where did you go?
My Scene dolls and All Time Low
Red Jeeps and glitter cheeks
Thirteen and hip hop beats
Tube tops, pop n lock
Don't forget your frosted lipgloss
Butterflies and Blink's First Date
"Forever Yours" on a silver keychain
Belly rings, snorting pills stings
Tiered skirts and ankle bling
TLR, Summerland
South of Nowhere, Degrassi: The Next Gen
Nicole Richie and Paris Hilton
Travis Barker and Ashlee Simpson
Fall Out Boy and Timbaland
Pete Wentz almost ended it
Promiscuous, Grand Theft Autumn
Jeans hung low, and girl you got em
I wanna live there over again
Everything was better then
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 3:57 AM UTC
She thought her outfit was beautiful when she put it on this morning.
And it was.
She donned the skirt with care,
Kitten heels polished and perfect.
Adjusting the turquoise blouse in the mirror,
She brushed her hair,
Put on her makeup,
And left her apartment early for a stroll.
She walked down the city street,
Head up, shoulders back,
A faint smile on her fresh face.
But as she neared the crosswalk,
She noticed the looks.
First came the looks from the men.
"Hey there, beautiful," one said.
"Nice *** said another.
She ignored them all,
Choosing to cross to the other side of the street
So that they couldn't try to touch her.
Then came the looks from the women.
**** she couldn't fit her fat *** into a minivan," said one.
"Who does that ***** think she is,
Walking around in that outfit?" Said another.
She ignored them all,
Choosing to keep her head down,
So that they wouldn't think she was promiscuous.
Finally, she noticed the looks from her co-workers.
"Does that violate dress code?" Asked one.
"If we had a dress code, it would," said another.
She ignored them all,
Choosing to head home early
So that they wouldn't laugh at her.
When she got back to the apartment,
She took off the skirt,
The polished kitten heels,
And the turquoise blouse.
She pulled on a pair of sweats,
And decided to watch Netflix instead of
Facing the cruel outside world.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 5:36 PM UTC
Oho, how I love red nails
They mark a promiscuous woman
A lady of stature
Someone is trying to make a statement
But she is far too into her looks
They're so glossy!
As if they weren't in your face enough already
I just love the compliments though
So many!
Forget my brown eyes
Or chameleon skin that is white in the winter
And bronze in the summer
Never mind those chunky thighs
Nice and thick
Thick is in these days
But the thigh rub
It makes a rash as bright as my nails
Which are perfect for a girl who talks with her hands
You just can't look away
You judge in the morning and indulge in the night
You try
But my red nails are red
So they hide the dried blood underneath
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 5:46 PM UTC
"I love you."
My fingers froze:
dark eyes on a list
as long nails clacked
on gray keys which
stuck with age and use.
I dreamed of love,
sweet hordes of
doves escorting me
to my desire of
love, love, love.
Such dreaming flags
floated in my mind,
wishing to be a hot ***
body made of rag,
a delicious mess
of hearty gags.
I wanted promiscuity,
in all its forms,
shed of all its innuendo
and flimsy disguises.
I wanted hard action,
man on man,
cheap rides and
cheaper thrills.
I wanted to be a little
pornographic princess,
a tiny-dicked seductress,
big ***** conductress
of all his passions.
My flag flew up as a
hormonal reaction,
attraction,
smooth bodied and
tight lipped action
running up and down
my jaded cadaver.
He wanted a **** *****
a promiscuous witch,
casting love spells and
**** glances to make him
itch.
He entered my love nest,
the back seat of a car,
to destroy my frame,
to rid me of my childishness.
My folly melted away
in sexyhot sways
of my hips as
my lips would say
lust filled nothings
that would be filled by
empty sighs and
****** filled
"I love you's."
My fingers froze:
as brown turned to white,
my body turned to snow
and rained down around
his swollen flagpole.
He was incompetent,
inept at the deed
and unable to satisfy,
but it was my ego that needed
this gratification, not my
libido.
I laid in the aftermath of the attack,
calm,
demure,
sad but
ultimately relieved
Finally,
I am ravaged.
I have soiled my nation
and salted my own fields,
laying waste to my youth,
my innocence.
I wanted to be conquered
and so did I receive,
being taken and
yet somewhat untaken.
I remember his voice,
that dumb accent.
I remember his preconceptions
of what this was supposed to be.
"I love you."
My fingers froze:
as lungs filled with air,
and brain filled with contempt,
my jaded body grew
to desire--
God, I really wish I had a cigarette.
I remember how he thought
I cared,
how he though that
anybody did.
I remember how,
I thought I had, too.
"I love you."
No, you don't.
Sep 14, 2012
Sep 14, 2012 at 12:23 PM UTC
We, too, had known golden hours
When body and soul were in tune,
Had danced with our true loves
By the light of a full moon,
And sat with the wise and good
As tongues grew witty and gay
Over some noble dish
Out of Escoffier;
Had felt the intrusive glory
Which tears reserve apart,
And would in the old grand manner
Have sung from a resonant heart.
But, pawed-at and gossiped-over
By the promiscuous crowd,
Concocted by editors
Into spells to befuddle the crowd,
All words like Peace and Love,
All sane affirmative speech,
Had been soiled, profaned, debased
To a horrid mechanical screech.
No civil style survived
That pandaemonioum
But the wry, the sotto-voce,
Ironic and monochrome:
And where should we find shelter
For joy or mere content
When little was left standing
But the suburb of dissent?
3.1k
Two old Bachelors were living in one house;
One caught a Muffin, the other caught a Mouse.
Said he who caught the Muffin to him who caught the Mouse,--
'This happens just in time! For we've nothing in the house,
'Save a tiny slice of lemon nd a teaspoonful of honey,
'And what to do for dinner--since we haven't any money?
'And what can we expect if we haven't any dinner,
'But to loose our teeth and eyelashes and keep on growing thinner?'
Said he who caught the Mouse to him who caught the Muffin,--
'We might cook this little Mouse, if we had only some Stuffin'!
'If we had but Sage andOnion we could do extremely well,
'But how to get that Stuffin' it is difficult to tell'--
Those two old Bachelors ran quickly to the town
And asked for Sage and Onions as they wandered up and down;
They borrowed two large Onions, but no Sage was to be found
In the Shops, or in the Market, or in all the Gardens round.
But some one said,--'A hill there is, a little to the north,
'And to its purpledicular top a narrow way leads forth;--
'And there among the rugged rocks abides an ancient Sage,--
'An earnest Man, who reads all day a most perplexing page.
'Climb up, and seize him by the toes!--all studious as he sits,--
'And pull him down,--and chop him into endless little bits!
'Then mix him with your Onion, (cut up likewise into Scraps,)--
'When your Stuffin' will be ready--and very good: perhaps.'
Those two old Bachelors without loss of time
The nearly purpledicular crags at once began to climb;
And at the top, among the rocks, all seated in a nook,
They saw that Sage, a reading of a most enormous book.
'You earnest Sage!' aloud they cried, 'your book you've read enough in!--
'We wish to chop you into bits to mix you into Stuffin'!'--
But that old Sage looked calmly up, and with his awful book,
At those two Bachelors' bald heads a certain aim he took;--
and over crag and precipice they rolled promiscuous down,--
At once they rolled, and never stopped in lane or field or town,--
And when they reached their house, they found (besides their want of Stuffin',)
The Mouse had fled;--and, previously, had eaten up the Muffin.
They left their home in silence by the once convivial door.
And from that hour those Bachelors were never heard of more.
3k
Quack Doctor
Fake Supervisor
Bogus Professor
Deceitful Color
Common Denominator.
Bomb Inventor
Rifle Creator
Device Innovator
Reigning Terror
Common Denominator.
Untruthful Suitor
Promiscuous Actor
Love Collector
Artificial Amour
Common Denominator.
Abusive Creditor
Illegal Investor
Unlawful Director
Greed Factor
Common Denominator.
Rogue Investigator
Friendly Assassinator
Double Conspirator
Backstab Traitor
Common Denominator.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 10:06 PM UTC
Get out of my heart
Get out of my head
You're not what you thought you were once
And even then you weren't that
Beauty is within
And without
And you're rotting
Rotting from your exterior to
Your core
You are a rotten apple, not a bad seed
Do you know how much sewage water it takes
To contaminate a glass of drinking water?
A drop
You're a gallon, baby
A gallon of sewage
Tons of nasty
Packed into eight ounces
Of Falsehood
So keep faking
Maybe someday, you'll find soemone else
Some other idiot who, like you, has no respect
For themselves
Or others
Or society
Or humanity
Or progress
So keep up your act
Act well your role
For you are our ***** STD
The thing we never want to hear about
But that reminds us of how much
We want better for ourselves
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 1:13 AM UTC
Young girl
You get your fix
From every other boy that you pick
Standards once high, now sink low
The attention you crave
Does not go unnoticed
You are digging a callow grave
Once you have realized what you have done
All that seemed fun
Is now tossed in your face
Slow your pace
Reaching the high school low is common
For the promiscuous freshman
Blame the "pressure" for your weekend discretions
Adolescent life reflects poker
Come monday, you will realize
High school is one huge masquerade
Young girl, here come the jokers.
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 9:33 PM UTC
You were amazing, I’d like to think so.
While you constantly scorned your finest poems
I’d squander on the disincentive ruins of a thoughtless mind
coaxing my envy to calm.
I longed to see what you saw and how you saw it.
You became the conquest,
the prize of my eyes, to affection’s surprise.
I started playing with words and sentences I had never read nor said before,
reading Plath and Baudelaire to join in your mind’s conversation.
Always striving to surpass your expectations of me, expecting nothing.
I gazed at you often, marveling at your squalor as if it held great significance.
Infatuated with your capricious mind, your pathetic whims, I craved for your approval.
For you, were the idol.
A far cry from the adolescent shell of a man that I cocooned in.
Jealousy would eventually consume me.
No manner of abuse or lust could explain
this psychotic affection towards your promiscuous apathy.
I started writing poems because of you, they were never any good,
I feared my crudity; you liked them all.
You always knew what they spoke of and I could never imagine yours.
But to you every opinion mattered.
The truth was still writing itself in your mind when you chose to fritter away
fornicating on all fours secretly, desperately, looking for the one.
Would you give it all up to write again?
I apologize for not telling you,
you were my first poem
I couldn’t impress you.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 5:15 AM UTC
he walks in awe, and would curse my interest in night
of clear silence and sighs
at promiscuous men's obsession with purity
within his aspect and his eyes
he looks down to my ******* and I ask him why
to which he replies and typically denies
he caresses those who adore lust and then calls them 'whores' when they are no less
had they been tighter.. but he likes lace?
his hands stroke my raven tress
as he says I am not like the rest
he whispers that he will handle me best
but if I was not pure I know I would be in another place
I stroke his cheek and admire his brow
yet why does this man objectify me as eloquent
so soft? don't reply to my letter. so calm? you haven't met me properly, have you?
deceived by my smile but I am not deceived by yours, o' 'gent'
if only more had visited below
but then again, my heart would still be innocent!
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 1:03 PM UTC
***** sweet, innocuous Seed
Survived ****** brutality...
Pride, slick, promiscuous deed
Unprotected *** fatality.*
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 11:17 AM UTC
Shut away the promising key the queen united is the ruler to be,
overdose runs through her veins,
over and over the dosing pains,
give her substance to numb back to ease,
as the flowers willow she takes pictures of trees,
she's under the sun and kicking back to reign,
she met a girl who hated the world,
she used her body to sell her soul,
down on her knees she wept on the floor,
screaming "god hates me"
she wanted more,
tracks in her arms,
yeah, she's down on the floor.
You could say she's quite the catch,
luminous lies she's stirred up her batch,
yeah, she's confused promiscuous and self abused,
inevitable places she used and used.
When nights get cold she's back at again,
the queen of addiction when will it end?
She cleans up her frown and tries to pretend,
spat out the blood and began to grin.
She took her hand and kissed the scars,
broke the needle as they drove in fast cars.
They shouted and screeched "This world is ours!"
She's stays a awhile,
just a bit of time,
her hand in hers,
fingers intwined,
breaking addiction with this inseparable bind,
opening new eyes leading away from blind,
weary and shooken it comes back,
a train through her veins,
track after track.
Wondering where her lover is out on the streets,
the terror in her heart as it beats and beats,
stranger after stranger this girl meets!
As her star-crossed lover is on the floor,
she's out with a man making money for more.
shakin' and shook,
at the end of the track,
the train has left the station she's not coming back.
Lorry lover pouring out those places,
the stop of a car as her heartbeat traces,
man after man,
meeting new faces.
bends down ties up her tattered torn laces,
the queen of addiction in her presence it graces,
6 feet under her lover places.
A tear on her black slim dress,
the queen of addiction put to rest.
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 11:43 PM UTC
Incontinence of Pseudo-emotion has engulfed us from the 3rd grade.
It festered dormant for a little under a decade before it’s vessel popped.
A pore filled with ***** media which dehumanizes and objectives human beings
While making a spectacle and esteem of being promiscuous.
All that Dirt
Lathered in an oil of misdirection. A misunderstanding of affection, empathy and apathy.
Those who contrive the most emotion are perceived as actually possessing the most emotion.
Nothing can be farther from the truth.
This is the death of morality. A birth of Nihilism.
The miasma of the rotting corpse of ethos and emotional connection.
Is one that sits in the stomach and contracts illness not curable due to our understanding.
We have been taught that promiscuity will bring us happiness, and yet it is the most depressing.
Without understanding of that we are incurable from this ugly affliction.
Momentary bursts of relief chafe the most sensitive areas of our skin. Without treatment.
We will be encased in our handmade carapace which will indefinitely block us from emotion.
Luckily someone invented lotion, soft tissues, and silicone.
Mar 11, 2019
Mar 11, 2019 at 11:29 PM UTC
When I was a child,
I made choices
that changed
my life forever.
These choices,
I realize upon reflection,
were devious in nature.
Very few
have come to understand
my reasonings
for such promiscuous acts.
When these acts came to light,
I was in my senior year
of high school.
Make no mistake,
these normally happy times,
were the worst days of my life.
Day in,
day out.
I endured silent stares,
snickers,
torment to extremes
no child should bare.
I hit rock bottom
before the age of 18.
I felt I could no longer
show up to school,
eat,
or,
love myself ever again.
Silently,
I turned inside myself.
I became so distant,
so numb.
Just when I thought I was finished,
and could no longer go on,
something peculiar
began to stir in the
depths of my soul.
*I tapped into a well
of endless love.*
I began to realize my path
in life would never be easy,
but,
I knew it would all
be worth it one day.
My choices at this fragile age
humbled me in ways
my peers would never understand.
I started showing up to school
with my head held high.
I had already endured
the worst of my pain.
And from that pain,
I pulled power.
By human nature,
we are attracted to
what we do not understand.
Not even I understood who I was
during this period of my life.
I thought I was hated,
despised,
by anyone and everyone.
But,
I soon discovered that I was wrong.
I was not hated
for what I had done.
It seemed it was
quite the opposite.
By nature,
I am accepting to anyone
who crosses my path.
This seemingly simple
fact completely contradicts
the decisions of my past.
I make people think.
How could she have done
something so out of character?
To this very day,
I have never been asked
directly about my past.
I find it quite fascinating.
After 3 long years,
No one has had the courage to ask,
"Why"?
So,
I have never given an answer.
I am waiting for the day
someone finally breaks the ice.
When they do,
I will simply ask,
"Why do you think I did it"?
Sep 30, 2016
Sep 30, 2016 at 1:23 PM UTC