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Rama Krsna Apr 2019
exacting in love
possessive by nature
volatile in temperament
and raging like flames
you are wild and untamed

nothing like docile padma!

the strategic placement
of each kiss on
your voluptuous body
you so unashamedly demand
is provocatively seductive

drawing out
from deep within the soul
of this simple flute-playing cowherd
a brazen but besotted lover


© 2019
padma: see my poem padma
Sharina Saad Oct 2014
She wears Prada from head to toe
All eyes on her when she steps in..
She...
breathtakingly a beautiful goddess
She...
Femininely revealing ....
Provocatively showing...
Her Silky white flesh hidden and revealed...
Is it the dress?
No..
Is it the face?
No
Its the body
No
Is it the *** appeal?
No and Yes I guess
So help to define **** please....

**** is not always beautiful
Being beautiful is ****...
**** in your eyes
Pretty ugly in mine
**** is hard to define
isn't it?
LD Goodwin Apr 2013
Jojo's
Firm
Meaty
And
Massive
Jumbo
Jiggles
Appear
Sometimes
On
Nasty
Dances.


January
February
Mar­ch
April
May
June
July
August
September
October
November
December­

*Amphigouri- A verse composition, while apparently coherent, contains no sense or meaning

Jojo-
Young girl, barely out of puberty, beautiful and seductive beyond her age, dresses provocatively with high ****** drive, not shy to *******, usually attract older men.
"Look at those middle aged men drooling over that little jojo!"
Jay Sep 2012
The way your porcelain skin touches light
Your waterfall curls provocatively grace the wind
Those brown eyes take away my virginity
That scent you carry with such promiscuity
You want my intellect
You want my drive
You want me to want you
Don't you...?
I am yours.
The way your jeans caress your curves
Your voice sings to my every being
And the sky delights at the sight of your smile
The celestial sway of each step you take
Each gaze my way, an attribution to my euphoria
My mind wipes clean and thinks solely of you
How I yearn to be get so deep into your imagination
I'll find you beautiful girl
And I'll take your darling breath away.
lost girl Oct 2014
My mother always tells me--
"Sweetie make sure you're not out too late, you wouldn't want to get *****.
You never know what will happen when you're walking the streets alone, always carry your phone.
Honey, never dress too provocatively you never know which eyes will see.
So please, cover up. Are you sure you don't want to wear the fleece?
There are sick people in this world
always be aware, you can't trust anyone anymore.
Never leave the house late and alone
You might not come home.
Always pick up the phone.
Honey, I want you to come home."

(a.d)
My mother is always telling me this and I am sure many other parents are having this talk with their daughters about this as well. It's sad that the world has come to this. That humans have resorted to taking away others rights. That they have made others live in fear. Little girls shouldn't have to hear this and grown women shouldn't have to constantly look over their shoulder when walking at night. Women shouldn't have to live in fear of other humans taking advantage of them. They shouldn't have to considered being ***** when walking out at night or when picking out what to wear.
It's sad that things are like this now.
Gaffer Mar 2016
You’re probably wondering why I’m phoning you.
It’s a hello call.
Not exactly.
You’re having a lesbian baby.
No, but I am single again.
Don’t tell me you dumped that man woman.
Mary was the love of my life.
She was a brute, she would give tarzan a run for his money.
Never mind that, do you remember when I was finding myself.
Remember it well, I was entering, you said, I think I’m a lesbian.
I know, it was bad timing, but you taught me a lot.
So I did, my Cv now reads, think you’re straight, I’ll change that.
How would you like to do it again.
Okay, you’re beginning to worry me now.
No, I realise you can turn people, you have a gift.
What do you want to turn into.
I want to be a straight lesbian, sort of.
I would love to help, but I’m in a relationship.
That’s okay, I can wait a week or two.
That’s quite funny, see, only lesbians could make jokes like that.
I know, I think you can relesbianise me.
Are you on drugs or something.
No, I liked being in bed with you, you never done anything for me, but I appreciated the effort.
Gee thanks, I’ll update my Cv. Think you're straight, I’ll change that, you’ll be a lesbian tomorrow, with straight tendencies.
See, that’s what I like about you, you’re never bitter. You did say it was a battle to get me into bed, now I’m offering myself on a plate.
I appreciate that, but how does this make you a reborn lesbian.
That’s simple, I won't enjoy it with you, then I’ll realise what I’m missing.
Do you mean you’ll fake it.
Yes, but you won’t know.
I won’t.
No, I’ll dress provocatively and make all the usual noises.
I knew this would happen someday, the twilight zone would come along and take me away to a place where fairies would serenade me with
tea and biscuits. Okay, just realised, thats an old folks home.
Okay girl, let’s get faking.
Olivia Kent Dec 2013
The Tall Tale of the Pantomime Horse!

Lifted his tail and cantered off.
Into the burning out sunset he rode.
A malady of loves principle disaster.
The pantomime horse he rode.
She caught him for his final wind up.

Danced for his audience.
On the stage.
He jumped and frolicked.
Wore nothing.
Save only but a bright red polka dotted belt.
Provocatively indiscreet.
The belt that concealed his other half.
His better half of course.

His other half was delicate.
Her malady was him.
He was the star performer.
Made all the ladies grin.

She sent him to the knacker's yard.
When his ladies had all gone.
She had one further use for him.
She turned him into glue.
Stuck the pages in her book.
Suggest you take a little look.
At all the poems in her book.
And the remnants of the pantomime horse.
His last ever performance of course!

By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
David Jul 2015
'be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harsh battle'

David Wakeman, 20, thin, pale and dark haired. He has no particular style and doesn't look like he could really fit in with any group of people in particular, but at the same time, wouldn't look too suspicious with among a group. A constant look of desperation plagues his eyes. He looks as though his face would appear in the news in a few months for shooting up a school or blowing up a public building.

david is shown driving down a stretch of road, snow covered everywhere, crazy eyed

Some people are meant to be alone in this life, and I am one of those people. I no longer wish to pretend otherwise. I now know what has to be done.

The sounds of ******* haunt the hallways outside of the tacky, run down hostel where they both lay. She is lying on the edge of the bed.
The sheets are creased. There are cracks on the wall.
But for 3 euros a night, you can't complain.
She lies there, still; staring blankly at the ceiling. Her short robotic breaths are the only life seen.
He eagerly moves close to her, but for the life of him, cannot touch her. His unsure attempts at moving his arm over her are prevented by a sudden urge to break into tears.
Finally, his hand places itself over hers.
She is cold.
"Did anything change?" he says, afraid of the answer.
There is a pause. It might've been a few seconds or half an hour.
"No." Speaking so quietly, barely audible to him.
He is about to say something, but he catches the micro-expression that followed her reply.
A sigh.
He becomes impatient,
"Then kiss me." he blurts out, clumsily.
It sounded better in his head.
A deep exhale and an almost exaggerated look of contempt washes over her tired face. She puts her hand to her face, failing to cover up her outburst of honesty, pretending to clean out something from her spotless, green eyes.
She quickly moves her face closer to his, with her eyes closed, and she puckers her lips in such a way that suggests she'd rather be dead.
His eyes are open, and now he is the one who is lifeless.
"What?" She says, breaking the awkward seconds of silence.

Silent seconds are followed by silent minutes, and now they are sitting up on the head of the bed, watching the old, fat TV that hangs from the filthy wall. Something is  playing but he can't understand the language.
'Pedifilios' is the only word that seems familiar.
She is smoking another cigarette.
The faint sounds of her mouth blowing out the smoke, are telling him all he needs to know.
She loves her ******* cigarettes, he thinks to himself.
She grabs the worn out ashtray that sits on the side of the bed, and goes to put it out.
"Here, let me get that" he says, gentlemenly, and snatches her  it out of her hand, then puts it out into the back of his other hand.
The pain doesn't make him feel any more alive.
" There you go," the cigarrettes crumbles into ashes over his hand and he pushes the ashes into the ash tray, then looks at her.
Her expression is a weird mix of diisgust and fear.

Minutes turn back into seconds and the sound of her footsteps are the last thing he hears from her, just before the slamming of the door.

Chapter 2:

Two bloodshot eyes scan the aisles and shelves, looking for the gluten free bread. It wasn't in the bread aisle.
Who the hell buys gluten free bread?
He contemplates appraoching one of his coworkers and asking her if she knows, but she is far too pretty for him to talk to.
Besides, he's been here 4 weeks now and wants to make it seem like he actually has a clue about what he's doing.
Afterall, he had already convinced his then potential manager,Chris,  that being a 'personal shopper' was in fact his dream job, and that this very supermarket was his dream place to work.
He always was a good liar.
He's so good because for a little while he manages to convince himself.
'Working hard David?"
****.
with Chris you could never tell if he was ******* or beingplayful.
"Always!" David shouts back, then picking a random item off the shelf and placing it into the basket, then nodding at Chris with a look of false sincerity.

(David is shown sitting in the living room, the light emenating from the TV appears to hurt his eyes, and he is slumped back on the coach, clearly worn out. he is flicking through late night informercials, on the coffee table in front of him there are numerous energy drinks seen empty.)
Davids thoughts: The living room is where I come to when I cant sleep. It's more of a dying room, really.

(David continues to flick through channels before stopping for a second on a ****** phone-in show (like babestation). He flicks back through the channels again)

(The scene cuts to a few hours later, with daylight seeping through the curtains and David sat in essentially the same position except he has fallen asleep, with remote still in hand. It's time for work)

watch alarm rings.....

'You coming out with the lads on friday dave?
He always wondered why people tried to talk to him in the middle of the set.
He places the barbel down onto the rack.
'With who?'' He asks,
"Me, sam, jack, carl and"
"and?"
"and Bill. Yeah. bill"
David's face changes as if suddenly remembering something
"Oh, did you say friday? I cant make it. I'm doing a thing with..."
With?
"with the family"
His friend looks as if he was expecting this anwer,
"no worries lad."

"qeue sad music"
David sits in his room, and is looking for something.
Upon rummaging through his things he pulls out a drawing, it's of a girl, he looks at it and a short shot of the girl from the beginning of the movie is shown, then it cuts back to him, stressed looking, and he shove the drawing into a red travel case that sits under the bed, as though he can't stand to see it but at the same time doesn't want to get rid of it. The case still has its travel ticket on.
He pulls a notebook from under some wires in his drawer, and begins to write.

'poem read accompanied by scenes of davids life'
'poem is interrupted by a knock on the door.

-dave is approached by someone in the gym telling him he has a great body, and that people would pay to see it. looks into 'gay4pay' and ends up actually going on a site and doing a cam show before aborting the whole thing-

scene with mum sat with the missionairies 'mum we need to talk' mum seems uncaring and cold, later on they talk
'Whats the probem dave? do you need money'
'No mum, it's just that'
'if youre struggling for cash just tell me, you can always take out a loan and-'
'No. mum. its not about money'
'then what is it?'
As David began to speak, his vocal chords failed him. He was walking into a 20 year old wall that he just couldnt get over.
'It's just that..'
'Yes?'
'I'm not happy. Mum.'
'Oh, well we all feel that way sometimes son' brushing it off in her famous way.
'No, this is different. I'm really depressed. Well, it's'
Depression wasn't the right word, he thought. Depression was an overused and futile term, it had become synonymous with sadness, and this wasn't just sadness; he had felt sadness many times, and this certainly wasnt that.
'it's?' she says, interrupting his inner verbiage.
He looks at her, knowing full well that this entire conversation has meant nothing.
'Look Dave,' she starts again with her 'mother' act, 'if you think that youre responsible for the divorce, just know that it was always going to happen anyway. It was just a matter of oppurtunity.'
What the **** is she talking about?
'Your dad and I never really had a-'
'No,' he says, cutting her off before she has a chance to justify the divorce again.
He was sick of the endless reasons and justifications.
'It's not about that.'
'well, what else could it be about?'
Because the whole world revolves around her and her divorce.
'Nevermind, it's nothing, really.'
She smiles, happy she doesn't have to act like she cares anymore.
'We all feel like that sometimes, like you say.'

He was starting to think that maybe he needed to see a therapist. Until this point he had always been confident in his own abilkity to reflect, introspect, and deal with his own issues himself, and he had alwas been skeptical of people who st in chairs and tried to prescribe you things; but this was beginning to be too much for him to handle. He felt he needed to be eevalutated, that he was losing his grip of his own life.
scene with therapist, coldly looking at her papers, davids desperate face searches for answers in her countenance.
'Right, Mr. wakeman.'
Hope. There is hope.
'I have you down for a prescription of 50mg of lithium, 250mg of benzedrin every week. I'll see you back here on thursday and we'll discuess your', she stops to see his face totally destroyed
'to discuss your.. issues'
David walks home like the scene of travis walking to see betsy at the theatre, something in his face just says that he knows that this story isnt going to end well. and that terrible things are on the way.

'Drugs, drugs, drugs,' david writes, 'theres a drug for everything in this world. drugs to make you numb, drugs to make you dumb, and ones which make you love everyone and see leprochauns and jellyfish driving cars, though those are the illegal ones.'

'Dave ya sisters here!' says his mum.

Scene where dave meets his sister and has coversation, on her way out,
she pulls out a red napkin and holds it like they do in bull fights, david looks slightly confused and smiles, she says 'dont be the bull!'

scene cuts to dave watching a bull fight on tv, where the bull kills the humans. david laughs to himself as the bull chaes people away. he is eating peanut butter on its own. Daves mum walks in abruptly and he switches it off.

(divorce is mentioned and the fact that dave caused it is mentioned)

dave trries to approach a girl in his work but it i awkward aand he gets rejected the same way he he rejected going out with his friends 'im doing something witht he family'.

dave comes home and there are arguments or something, so he punches a collage of family photos.

scene cuts t dave in hospital being told the cast  will come off in  4 weeks.
scene where david is trying to do everyday things with one hand, accompanied by happy music, contrasting the despair of the scene.

(An exact copy of the earlier scene is shown where david is up late flicking through late night tv channels, except now he is using only one hand with the remote. David finds himself at the eroitc call in show again, but this time instead of changing the station, he notices the number written in big, pink letters, and the woman manning the phone is obviously not in a call. Davids vision darts from the tv to his mobile phone that sits on the coffee table, he doesnt hestitate too grab the phone. The look on his face shows he is somewhat bracing himself. David dials the number unusually fast, without having to look back at the screen. The phone is being connected)

pre recorded phone message: Hey there naughty boys, you've reached TEASEYTALK phone love station, the sauciest ******* line in thebusiness. Press 1 if you'd li-

(David presses a number without hearing the rest of the message, suggesting he has heard the options before. Davids eyes are fixated on the bored-looking woman on the screen, until she picks up the phone that shes been using as a mock-***** till now, and answers)

Woman on TV: Urite babe? How can I  be of service?

(She speaks in a strong mancunian accent, and provocatively looks into the camera and moves sensually. All the while David looks back, with an expression of almost disgust.)

Woman: Dont be shy love!

David: Sorry. I'm not really a people person

Woman: haha thats alright darling, feel free to just watch me if ya like

(she turns to her side, showing the front of her body to the camera, she rubs her hand over the thin lingerie covering her *****)

David: Do you not feel a bit weird knowing guys are waatching you like this.

Woman: it just turns me on more babycakes

(she maintains her playful act but appears just slightly agitated)

David: I think you're lying.

(again, she starts to rub her hand over her **** and tries to look playful, but is now clearly agitated)

David: I don't think you like this at all.I don't think you wanted this for yourself.

(she snaps quickly and becomes more aggressive in her act, trying to hide her obvious agitation)

woman: I ****** love it babe. If you could feel how wet i was right now I could prove it to ya

Men: do you have a boyfriend?

(she pauses for a second, shocked and unable to hide her uncomfortable feeling. She stalls and grabs a purple heart shaped pillow and changes position. She assumes another playful position but looks bothered in her eyes)

David: how does he feel about this?

(her movements now hault and she looks at the camera with a sad glare(

David: does he even know?

(she bows her head for a moment, before running her hand through her hair, and looking back at the camera with that playful smile again)

woman: do you have a girlfriend?

(she says smugly, making it appear as if she has said some provacative)

camera pans into davids face, his look of slight disgust has eased into one of sad reflection. for a split second, a scene of the girl from the beginning of the movie appears, the scene is light, contrasting the darkness of the room, then the shot of david continues

(davids long silence has create an awkward look from the woman on the TV, she has stopped the provacative movements and briefly gestures to someone off camera. the scene cuts back to david with the phone put down, then it cuts to a shot from the same angle, except its obviously daytime as the light is seeping trhough the curtains and davids watch alarm is ringing again, however unlike before he is wide awake)

Scene where david takes off shirt in the bathroom, revealing his arms, chest, etc, covered in cut marks like tiny cat scratches.

dave gets skinner throughout the movie, the gay4pay scene stops him from working out. contrast scene with self harm marks with the earlier scene he is more athletic and healthier  looking. pants fall off

this s were dave develops the bad thoughts about killing people and ridding the world of bad people. ' i always wanted to make the world a better place'

throughout the movie dave asks his mum if any package has come for him, and that he expects a package.

the underlying theme is waiting for things to come and being patient, and that you dont know whats around the corner. that you know life will  be better but you grow impatient, and its only when you forget about wanting things to change, that it does.

in the movie he either does **** people or he has fantasies about doing it but something stops him (a girl?)

before doing whhatever he feels he needs to, he has a ritualistic session of burning the contents of the travel case, including the travel ticket, a postcard from porto, some drawings, and a carboard cutout of a leopard.) he gives the travel case to a charity shop, a long with all the clothes he has worn in the story up to this final scene, where he is weaing guirella warfare type attire. he puts facepaint on(?) and dumps all his anti depressants

at the end of the movie, when he has forgotten about the package, i arrives, and he opens it, not showing its contents, the camera zooms into the words 'handle with care'
OR
he has done his deed and killed whoever (*******) and now his package has come and it says 'handle with care'. it either sits at the front door or is thrown into some postal van, the irony being i tis not handled with care.
Nathan Millard Apr 2013
Let me tell you a bit about me
A bit that I haven’t told anyone

Here goes nothing…

I listen to Lady Gaga
A lot
The smell of whiskey doesn’t burn my nose
Rather it smells familiar, similar to maple syrup
I love to dance a lot when no one is looking
And really provocatively
I doubt my ability
Yet fear my potential
I kissed a boy in first grade
But don’t know why I have literally hid this all my life
The book “Charley and the Chocolate Factory” changed me
And I never like chocolate until this year
I am afraid of dogs
I grew up with dogs all of my life
I really dislike my arms from the elbow up
But play off my flannel shirts and hoodies as a fashion statement
I bite my nails but not nervously
Rather because nail clippers make my nails feel weird
I watch ****…
No one really admits that one but most of us do
I love not washing my hair
But I hate going out in public that way
I love most people but pretend I don’t
It’s easier that way
I love the feeling of crumbling sheet rock
Especially if it is wet
I have cussed since I was probably 7…
I think I cuss less now than I did in fifth grade
I generally admire those farthest from me
They are what I’ll never be
I could see myself as president
But just as easily a stripper
I have to try really hard not to cry when I think of my childhood
Especially young memories
I have tweezed my eye brows
And my toes
I have worn makeup while no one was home
Mainly just to try it
I love eating raw sugar
Especially chewing it
I am pretty sure I was delusional as a child
But sometimes I feel like either I wasn’t or I still am
I don’t feel like people ever really know me
Especially my family

There is a chunk of me
Please don’t waste it
Matalie Niller May 2012
A certain somebody has the most actively attractive eyes when he grins,
they actually twinkle like proverbial stars;
this fact may be what I despise about his existence most of all.
I do not appreciate the cranking in my stomach when I see his perfect, warm skin stretch
and his ****** muscles proclaim positivity
and his strong calcium teeth blind any unsuspecting victims.
I hate the little fishing hook that rips uncleanly in a jagged form in my blood-pulsing heart
when I feel he hasn't properly paid me my much deserved attention.
I outlined my eyes in dark chemicals and fluffed my hair provocatively to lure his lust
for what?
To realize that I do not contain the proper combination of personality traits to appease such an animal soul
and never will.
I really hate the pitiful state of longing and admiration his uninterested being reduces my willing heart to;
to be strong and independent is desirable,
but to be his is a complete necessity.
W Winchester Apr 2016
No, I wasn't drinking
Yes, I was dressed "provocatively"

No, I didn't come on to him
I didn't say he could touch me
No, I wasn't giving him "bedroom eyes"
No, I didn't lead him on

Yes, I shared a cab with him
No, I didn't say he could put his hands on me
Yes, I was naive
No, I didn't say I wanted to put my hand or my head in his lap
No, I didn't ask the taxi driver to help me
No, I didn't refuse to let him put his fingers in me

No, I didn't tell him I wanted to go home then
Yes, I let him take me to his apartment
Yes, I let him take my clothes off
Yes, I let him inside me
No, he didn't use a ******
Yes, I took a morning after pill

Yes, I regret it

But he didn't ask,
so I didn't say no
I'm in a bad place, okay?
Tyler J Gallant Nov 2011
Oh my my, this Facebook thing,
has a world of trouble it can easily bring.
Long, meaningless chatting, a cyber-fling,
And it only began from a new chat box ding.

The one thing you must at all costs avoid doing,
Is basing opinions on these girls, then actually pursuing.

As you tell her you’re interested, her brain will cook.
“He’s into my heart! Not that picture I took!”
The one that she uses as her seductive hook;
but as most cases play out, this is not how she'll look.

You can try and deny this, but proof lies in plain sight.
There are some exceptions, but mostly, I’m right.
A long legged appearance, instead has a midgets height,
and oh goodness, those rolls! Her "abs" looked so tight.

Well, at least she is chesty, there is no faking there!
But her best friends a water bra, life just isn’t fair.
You meet up and they’ve shrunk? Can’t help but stare.
And her clear complexion has changed? She has acne to spare.

So provocatively she chats, you can't resist, so compelling.
But just remain unresponsive, asleep, and safe in your dwelling.
Is she hot or bad-looking?  Well there’s no way of telling.
But she won’t look nearly as good, trying to save you from yelling.

So I hope you get my message, best to stay away from that game,
But I am assuming you won’t, teenage flirtation is impossible to tame.
I can only offer this advice, hoping it will keep you ridden of shame.
For as of now, if she tricks you, you have only yourself to blame.
This is some poetically written advice on how not to be fooled by an unfavorable young lady who only takes pictures of what they believe will attract a boy. Sometimes, both girls and guys go to extreme measures to impress the opposite ***, lying and posting false pictures of themselves on their profile. A little superficial? Yes. And I apologize in advance.
Zoe Holden Feb 2019
I shut my bedroom door
now engulfed by the bindings of paper and pen
and I roll my chair to grey desk
stacked high with Dickinson, Bronte's three, and Alvarez
I pull out my writing tools and begin to contemplate
ideas that dare not be discussed in the public of society
Why is it that God must be a man and
What make the human taught ideal of modesty such a binding force
flow through my brain and I breath again
without measure or discernment I am free
in my freedom i think
back to the conversation my mother and I held this morning
A girl had stood in our line of view her hemline resting mid-thigh
My mother had turned to me
"Ellis look at that girl! I can see her ******!" face aghast
I nodded
"It is disgusting that girls these days dress so provocatively!
Thank God I have a modest girl!"
I nodded again
and I thanked God.
     -Modesty Is A Human Construct
my subconscious writes me letters
gentle urgings -
from that deepest space
where dreams go to rest
and fears go to hide
little fragments of inspiration
that dance provocatively
only to vanish
when i rise from my stupor
little ghosts of memories past
present and future
bound up together
as unfailing reminders
that wherever i go
i will always be me

-Vijayalakshmi Harish
30.11.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
EmB Jan 2021
I could write erotica
Words flushed with heat
And lust
A bare trace of plot
Sliding through the lines
like soft skin on silk sheets.

I could paint pictures
with sultry poses,
long limbs entwined in a battle of flesh,
pictures to bring a tingle,
a shiver dancing across your skin.

I could whisper salacious stories
with my lips just above your ear,
hot breath and a teasing lilt,
testing the boundaries of self-control.

I could pass along this poem,
lay forth my cards,
exposed provocatively on the table,
making my intentions known.
Glenn McCrary Aug 2011
The natural attribute of my inquiring intuition

Coerced me to tread passionately in the wake

Of this provocatively, entertaining creature

To analyze the abstract desires of her mind



She peeks just up over her lovely shoulder

Capturing the dazzling quality of my image

From the corner of her harlequin green eyes

As she licks her lips insatiably with hunger



Ultimately this woman approached me fearlessly

Exuding the very spark of unmistakable attraction

She then began stroking her fingers through my hair

Caressing my face with her assuaging touch of heaven



Softly rubbing my chest while whispering risque enigmas of pleasure

Oh, how I could feel the air of her pacifying breath blowing in my ear

While her alluring cave of magic chafed against my yearning serpent

Not one word was spoken for she could sense my crave to fornicate
Jonny Angel Dec 2013
You lay so innocent,
kissed me so provocatively,
infected my soul
with your learned behaviors.

Your step-by-step instructions
about intimate things,
mutually pleasing,
became carved
into my granite
like commandments.

And how can I describe
your taste,
your raw primordial stream
intoxicating me into
other realms,
spellbinding me forever?

I can’t.
Mahima Gupta Jan 2014
There's no keynote
Or some particular issue
In my mind
It's just the void
Trying to fit in
There is no predicament
Its just these words
Trying to find space
Provocatively engaging my mind
To work on something
That ought to be done
Like it's some imperative assignment
Just these consonants
Camouflaging and slaughtering
That empty space
These characters from one
To twenty six
Continually withering
In search of a place
With Some connotation.
kelvin mungai Sep 2015
CRESENT OF SINS
full and half empty bottles of beer;
scattered broken glasses,
deranges the cracked brown hued floor
music gales from an old c.d changer
inebriated guzzler mumbles in incoherent murmur
denuded nubile cavorts merrily
their sleek oiled frame shimmering in the fuzzy light
ghoulish **** silhouette walks in fluid and sinuous manner
fog like smoke chokes the room
marijuana and cigarette smoke amalgamates
swirling up merged into an eternal marriage
heels clad trollops clatters in the room
swaying their assets provocatively
boozers gapes intently with hazy eyes
raising their neck in unison
they ogle at the lure with entranced lust
two vague humanoid shapes lurks in a corner
moans escaping in raspy staccato
musk,*****,drugs defines this room
besotted species lie on filthy squalid floor
vocalizing dirge melodies
lost in muddled blur
dancers prances up and down
crushing cans and glasses in spirited tempo
yelling their lungs out
as the music drown their voices and worries
deep in the gist of the city
irrational rants emanates from every angle
sundry light floods the clear night
as merry goers sip cheap and expensive liquor
sloven hookers milks cash from patrons
the night conceal this cresent of sins
everyone is on a business
the party continues
the music get more stentorian
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
[{chronicles of the dumb speaker}]
You gave a smile for me today.
I knew I'd impressed you.
I must've said something coy.  
You turned and gave an

I've told you about this one

look, to a face across the room.
Do it again, please, but look at me this time.

Lean your head back again,
raise your eyebrows provocatively again,

I've told you about this one

Shrug your shoulders again
Smile like that again.

I've told you about this one

But this time look at me.
Olivia Kent May 2014
Sporting the battledress of the warrior queen.
Her eyes wide open.
She's unfurling black banners,
while spewing venom, at the blackened retching sky.
Midnight crisp approaches,
as she grabs the sullen one,
Smashes through his barriers,
She is the chosen one,
And she sings to him, provocatively, luring him in,
dashed onto gilded rocks,
For he too is the chosen one,
the son of sighs,
deliver me from death,
I beg,
oh so unholy one,
Once again, he smiles at her,
deliverance curtly,
through teeth ,
blackened by his spite,

As morning light breaks through the sky,
he stops and stoops and wonders why.
On hell and Earth, in spite of heaven,
Why did he bid goodbye to his wild warrior queen,
the royal one,
So regally attired in ebony black.

For you woman,
you seek only the sycophant,
Believe him not,
It's all a fake, a disguise behind which he hides,

Forget her not, she  still wants you,
Wants to rip your **** in two,
no chance at forgiveness,
for making the lady blue,

You,
with the faces of loyal Gemini,
you state,
categorically state,
the woman, the one,
that woman,
And f**k, as inside you walk, right in again,
As inside you go again,
Here you go again, letting your passion, cause more pain.
(c) Livvi
Perhaps I should have known better, after all it is against the law to stalk a person, but I was overwhelmed with her. She danced so erotically and I couldn't take my eyes off her in the nightclub.

Her hair was raven black, with pale skin, blood red lips and a face that screamed perfection. Attired in a red leather jacket covering a skin-tight black dress that moulded the impeccable figure that lay beneath. I didn't intend to follow her. I just hovered behind her almost dragged along by her scent.

I watched as she entered the building and just couldn't help looking up as I saw the light in her flat illuminate the full length window. My mouth watered as she undressed provocatively, eyes glazed as she removed her clothes.

She undressed almost as if she was aware that I was watching and seemed content to continue with such entertainment. I could quite clearly see her clad in her bra and *******, suspenders and high heeled shoes. When she looked out of the window and beckoned me with her finger I nearly **** a brick but I was unable to stop myself from entering the building.

I do not remember walking up the stairs but it seems that I must have because I was soon standing opposite the open door, the entrance to her apartment. I followed the scent of this ***** like a dog on heat, led on by animal lust and entered the property. I didn't notice the door closing as I walked hypnotically up the hallway. Glimpses of leering faces from passageway doors never penetrated into my psyche as I continued. I was deaf to the footsteps that trailed behind me as I haplessly followed my desire.

I shivered with delight as I entered the room to my voluptuous temptress, watching in awe as she rhythmically seduced me with her sway. She danced around me like a tigress and I was thrilled to the core as she enveloped me in her arms. I was delirious with pleasure as she feasted on the blood that flowed through my arteries. So high was I with gratification that I wasn't even aware of her minions who had indulged themselves in this banquet, even though I was indeed the main course.

Now I am one of those minions. My first death has seen me walking alongside the vile, feeding on the stupidity and wantonness that is mankind.
July 2014
anessa breanne Oct 2013
I'd always loved the way your black hair touched the tip of your ears so barely,
and you'd brush it out of those big brown eyes that sparkled in the sun.
You may not have had the smile of a model,
but it was my favorite sight that I could think of.
And the way you touched me, not even provocatively,
but the way our fingers intertwined,
the way you'd put your hands on my face
or the back of my neck
when we kissed.
Oh my, you kissed like it was the only thing keeping you to this earth;
so addicting,
so refreshing;
so eager
yet so patient.
And maybe the thing I loved the most
was the way you would let me call you
Nickolas.

But that summer we spent was frozen over
and buried by the lovers you've had in your bed
since our times.
Drugs and *** became your passion,
while mine became crying in my room,
and burning my skin.
You shaved off your hair, your eyes are so dull.
She traces lines on your body that I once drew.
But I see the way you kiss her and it's not the same,
I remember the way you looked at me
the last time we talked.
The way you hugged me when I was on the verge of breaking down,
in the middle of the cafeteria.
Maybe our time together was not in vain,
maybe we'll be together,
in another life.
But then again I could be wrong, for when I called you Nickolas;
you flatly replied,
"It's Nick."
wordvango Feb 2016
of a whisper wild falling provocatively
across her cheek of wondering
when her hand will push aside the strand
look me in my eyes at the same time
I glance to see if she is looking
back at me
kelvin mungai Oct 2015
suspended few feet a noose hang
thy feet on ground nose tilted up
pangs of anger fueled by hunger
mind reckoning the rope beckoning
i lost this war
unbearable suffering in daily hustling
battling life challenges in dazzling
grey light
despite trying the knot is tightening
spellbound doom ready to boom
shy future full of unraveled feature
a picture worthless of any word
left,right the light dim
darkening my life world no longer
bright
guilt and conscious conflict
insanity terrorize my sanity
condemning me to vanity
the answer is still there
swaying hovering provocatively
seducing for action
the shadows of yester dreams
shattered
plastering gloom casting a doubtful
net on who i am
during a stormy no silver lining on the
grey cloud
only terrorizing zeus' thunderbolt
emanates
the end of the road the final
destination
i realized the light at the end of
tunnel no longer glowed
without denying i was dying
do it!!!
unrecognizable voices howls
deafening defeating the weak
resistance
wrecking havoc in wasted brain recess
can't suppress the urge to take the
step
closing my gap heading to river styx
a coin in my mouth i breathe deeply
i head to hades world in underworld
and be a wanderer in tarturus
soaring near the vulture sirens a
dirge
Just a smile
While passing the bar
It's all he needs
So he watches her
Long legs, blonde hair
As the music beats through her chest
Arms swinging above her head
Provocatively swaying her hips back and forth
Dancing just for him on the open floor
Men mesmerized by this utter stunner
Making him jealous, he's getting angrier
A magnificent woman
A goddess if there ever is one

Later he lays her out on a bed of silk
Fanning her hair like liquid gold
Tempting her with his delicate touch
For this night they're in love
Caressing her hips with his manly hands
Devouring her body with his own
Tantalizing tasting her lips with his tongue
A naked Angel he's just won
As she quivers beneath his touch
One last breath escapes her mouth
She is quiet, she is spent
Shuddering from her warm embrace
Removing his hands from her throat
Quietly leaving after collecting his clothes
Carefully not being seen or his wife will know

An Angel was found in the woods today
Naked from head to foot
On a makeshift bed of leaves
The most beautiful woman you've ever seen
Long hair, golden silk
She'd been drugged, ***** and killed
kelvin mungai Nov 2015
that night we met you smiled at me
right under the glare of a full moon miles away
the swells on your chest and the sweet smell
of your skin scent  sent jolts through my spine
i wanted to bolt but your crystal clear eyes hypnotized me
you swayed your hips provocatively as you made your way down
the stairs  i couldn't tear my eyes from your stare
it was LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT

     i was ready to share my world with you
when your knitted words  convinced me i was
your knight in shining armor
under the light of the moon you vowed
i was gonna be your last king  
and that our relationship would be everlasting
that is all i wanted to hear i moved near you
lust made your face glow with wants  to be satisfied
i kissed you and my hand roved below your waist
IT WAS *** AT FIRST NIGHT

i didn't like how you talked in suspense
behind the veil of your language i could sense
betrayal
you painted my heart with pain
it was plain that hurting me was your plan
"i have died every day waiting for you to change"
i couldn't spare you a fight today only to die tomorrow
WE BROKE UP AT OUR FIRST FIGHT
A troubled mind lingers endlessly over a provocatively constructed idea
Blissfully wandering the planes of flawless love and idealistic friendships as the impossible sun scorches and singes every cell of his being
Dauntless hope grinding away the withered and warned into the dusts of despair,
to be swept effortlessly into the dark vacuum of oblivion
And eternally, till the end of my days I will hear you say
"you fell in love with an idea".

— The End —