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"quaking" poems
Lovers entered a forbidden forest bower, And as they stalked that range, with eyes glazed, She offered up her hind. Now, with doe eyes, Deep as his, deep in arousal's sleep, heels fell,  As he knocked and pulled her dark honey hair  And whispered, surrender, into wanting ears,  Softly he drove his hunting command, homing  To his huntress. Her body braced, yet bade, with heat and vibrance. Ruthlessly, he ****** his arrow deeper and then  Once more and then again.  She bucked fiercely  And defiant, goading his prodding lance ever more Ever longer, and parting the pink lines of her white Rose, he was, and once again, Prince to the dark Dominion of her quarters. In the middle of this carnal match they paused. And looking into the forest beyond they saw A yearling fawn, a feral Goddess, grazing still,  Bathing in a vale, virginal, wholly unmoved  By their act of venery, lustfully playing, in the innocent  Leaves.  It was as if they were among her kin, a gentle  Doe and a noble stag. From that moment on  The human hunters did not speak. Falling, again, rolling eyes were deep in arousal's sleep. Her back was a crescent moon pocked and wet with dew. He could feel her heart beating in time with his piercing  Prong, her arching back glistened in the suns spittle As it broke through the dark and vernal ceiling wood. In the final shot her quivering buck lowered and broke And a sound not heard, made a scene, a sweet murmuring Shuddered and sank onto the floor of the forest leaves  With her tale, taken and told, her breathless breath,  Her nostrils cold and her heated and lanced openings  Dripping, draining; here was a New World’s beginning. Sated, solemn and softly quaking, his woman sweetly laid, And now, doomed with her doe eyes, two lovers, fated, made; She glowed, divine, like the rolling brook that mellowed Slow, in the vine-dark and golden forest stable, In Artemis’s wood.
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Jun 15, 2012
Jun 15, 2012 at 1:33 PM UTC
In Artemis’s Wood
Lovers entered a forbidden forest bower, And as they stalked that range, with eyes glazed, She offered up her hind. Now, with doe eyes, Deep as his, deep in arousal's sleep, heels fell,  As he knocked and pulled her dark honey hair  And whispered, surrender, into wanting ears,  Softly he drove his hunting command, homing  To his huntress. Her body braced, yet bade, with heat and vibrance. Ruthlessly, he ****** his arrow deeper and then  Once more and then again.  She bucked fiercely  And defiant, goading his prodding lance ever more Ever longer, and parting the pink lines of her white Rose, he was, and once again, Prince to the dark Dominion of her quarters. In the middle of this carnal match they paused. And looking into the forest beyond they saw A yearling fawn, a feral Goddess, grazing still,  Bathing in a vale, virginal, wholly unmoved  By their act of venery, lustfully playing, in the innocent  Leaves.  It was as if they were among her kin, a gentle  Doe and a noble stag. From that moment on  The human hunters did not speak. Falling, again, rolling eyes were deep in arousal's sleep. Her back was a crescent moon pocked and wet with dew. He could feel her heart beating in time with his piercing  Prong, her arching back glistened in the suns spittle As it broke through the dark and vernal ceiling wood. In the final shot her quivering buck lowered and broke And a sound not heard, made a scene, a sweet murmuring Shuddered and sank onto the floor of the forest leaves  With her tale, taken and told, her breathless breath,  Her nostrils cold and her heated and lanced openings  Dripping, draining; here was a New World’s beginning. Sated, solemn and softly quaking, his woman sweetly laid, And now, doomed with her doe eyes, two lovers, fated, made; She glowed, divine, like the rolling brook that mellowed Slow, in the vine-dark and golden forest stable, In Artemis’s wood.
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39
The aching she endures in her waking feelings of her body quaking to sounds of his voice she quivers Excitement racing through her veins like lightening An unbearable desire rushing through her so exciting entranced by his spell, his words so enticing with his pleasure she welcomes his pain feels like torture. she yearns for more her body aching for his taking her fantasies he made belief engorging her soul her urges he feeds with his selfish needs either way they are both left, pleased.
0
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 7:36 PM UTC
Erotica
a curved pastry like a prune danish in a sway a weaving kiss anointed by a melting stick of butter, pushed and puddled deep and slow the shape of a heart with a hole in the middle ooow dark fig stinking rose a comfort that sweetens with the grace of form and pops like a trigger releasing a bullet i covet with eyes like erections pants sticky wet hot glue factory for you love, my *** angel red skin girl gaping with circular yearning set in motion tarnished petal mix meister sinful hot house for quaking tongue and lips, a wild cherry *** kisser spiked ***** blushing lord of **** solar ******* hero flexed and oiled to the rescue a god send triumphant and blessed looks like a fast cigarette boat hitting the speed bumps hard she said yes please dip like nautilus of the black sea What? no loitering no parking not a through street haahaahaa **** that ****
0
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 1:11 PM UTC
*** Angel
My skin illuminates your body with my touch, your body quaking from the rush. My aching ***** -- eager with lust, paying dutiful attention to your pearly gates. With zeal they await, to invade your presence with my grace. filling split with my space. in one fulfilling embrace. Your tender folds aroused, enclose my arousal. swollen with desire, swallow me whole like a mouthful. legs spread -- wide open and exposed. your plush lips, blush with lust. as your body erupts.
0
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 11:56 PM UTC
Lustful Thinking
We’d been together so long, it seemed That nothing could tear us apart, We lived our lives in a world of dreams And Barbara lived in my heart, But frost had covered the window pane And then it began to snow, As Barbara turned, with a look of pain And said, ‘It’s best that you go.’ I didn’t know what she meant at first As I looked up from my book, “Go where?’ I questioned, but thought again As she quelled my heart with a look. ‘I said I want you to leave,’ she cried, And her face was set in stone, ‘We’ve come to the end of the path,’ she sighed, ‘I want to be left alone.’ Then suddenly all confusion reined I didn’t know what to say, Whatever had brought this mood on her, I wished it would go away. But she was firm, and she packed my things And ushered me out the door, I stood there shivering in the cold To be back on my own once more. I found a flat and I camped the night There was barely a stick or chair, I’d have to buy all the furniture To make it a home in there. But I sat and cried in the empty room As the question came back, ‘Why?’ I’d loved her so and my heart was torn, I thought I wanted to die. I went to her with my questions, but She slammed the door in my face, Whatever love she had had for me Had vanished, without a trace. It hurt so much that she cut me off With never so much as a sigh, I called that all that I wanted was To tell me the reason, why? The roses had bloomed so late that year Were still in the garden bed, We’d always tended the bush with joy, We both loved the colour red, So I snipped one off as I left one day, And planted it under her door, To let her know that I loved her still I didn’t know how to say more. Her brother called in a week or so, Said she was in hospital, She’d gone in just for a minor cure And thought that he’d better tell. So I caught the bus and I went on down With a quaking fear in my heart, She hadn’t said there was something wrong Before she tore us apart. The doctor came in his long white coat, His brow and his face was grim, I said, ‘Don’t tell me the news is bad,’ He said, ‘I’m out on a limb. Your wife just passed from the surgery, But she pulled, from under her clothes, And asked if I’d pass this on to you,’ In his hand was a red, red rose. David Lewis Paget
0
Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 1:10 AM UTC
The Rose
We’d been together so long, it seemed That nothing could tear us apart, We lived our lives in a world of dreams And Barbara lived in my heart, But frost had covered the window pane And then it began to snow, As Barbara turned, with a look of pain And said, ‘It’s best that you go.’ I didn’t know what she meant at first As I looked up from my book, “Go where?’ I questioned, but thought again As she quelled my heart with a look. ‘I said I want you to leave,’ she cried, And her face was set in stone, ‘We’ve come to the end of the path,’ she sighed, ‘I want to be left alone.’ Then suddenly all confusion reined I didn’t know what to say, Whatever had brought this mood on her, I wished it would go away. But she was firm, and she packed my things And ushered me out the door, I stood there shivering in the cold To be back on my own once more. I found a flat and I camped the night There was barely a stick or chair, I’d have to buy all the furniture To make it a home in there. But I sat and cried in the empty room As the question came back, ‘Why?’ I’d loved her so and my heart was torn, I thought I wanted to die. I went to her with my questions, but She slammed the door in my face, Whatever love she had had for me Had vanished, without a trace. It hurt so much that she cut me off With never so much as a sigh, I called that all that I wanted was To tell me the reason, why? The roses had bloomed so late that year Were still in the garden bed, We’d always tended the bush with joy, We both loved the colour red, So I snipped one off as I left one day, And planted it under her door, To let her know that I loved her still I didn’t know how to say more. Her brother called in a week or so, Said she was in hospital, She’d gone in just for a minor cure And thought that he’d better tell. So I caught the bus and I went on down With a quaking fear in my heart, She hadn’t said there was something wrong Before she tore us apart. The doctor came in his long white coat, His brow and his face was grim, I said, ‘Don’t tell me the news is bad,’ He said, ‘I’m out on a limb. Your wife just passed from the surgery, But she pulled, from under her clothes, And asked if I’d pass this on to you,’ In his hand was a red, red rose. David Lewis Paget
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65
i think i feel every single tiny earthquake in my big bed alone [which i love] because inside i am always quaking.
0
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 9:57 PM UTC
earthquakes
White-furred hill flowers bow Gust-bent, Wet in April snow, Lavender beneath their Downy coats. Tender soldiers of spring Grasp wind-blown gravel steeps, Stand to beckon brown grass, Soft-call the life in sapless trees To ring with green again Against Old Bully Winter’s Blustering. Quaking aspens, Earliest to leaf in yellow-green, Curling grama grasses, Tough food for buffalo, Cannot boast first life each Montana spring; Only zombie-lichens, Rock-fast mosses Throw off winter’s death Before the crocus' rise. On eastern Montana hills No street-hemmed dandelions Colonize in chute-dropped ranks; No time-tamed tulips Live on wind-round knolls. Here, the yucca’s bayonet-sharp ****** Here, the wild onions’ scent-strong hold; But these arrive after early chill, Following the purple crocus on the hill.
0
Jan 4, 2012
Jan 4, 2012 at 8:36 AM UTC
Prairie Crocus
like a static shock i feel you running up my spine tingling the hair at the nape of my neck something harsh and unexpected but unexpectedly pleasant snapping me back into the present eyes freshly opened and wide like a still from a movie quaking on the bed feeling my limbs tighten against you something soft and yielding but not fully, pressing back pushing my core deep into the down we fight for a moment tearing at each other with teeth with claws with fists, open, closed, before the tension breaks and calm floods over us with no slight pause, sending us both reeling into oblivion, all extremities stilled as we stare gasping into the dark nothingness that surrounds us heads thrown back and hands clasped together as we slip away floating no where, watching galaxies being ****** into black holes and stars exploding into limbo before we find ourselves back in bed, abruptly, chests heaving and slick with sweat where we try to put ourselves back together fruitlessly
0
Apr 25, 2012
Apr 25, 2012 at 10:21 PM UTC
Fruitless
Well then I've lost it again. It's all gone, nothings left to find. There are no reasons for time, to unwind, to be blind to anything you find that's helpful. Doubtful, you see everything in me. From my malice to my chi. You feel it quick and it resonates your soul. Like the sound you get, when sliding wet flesh on a glass of water. Your energy fluxuates, in such wavelengths, that my heart must beat along. To a song of your love. Of which i have never felt anything above. You can tell, whether I'm quivering or quaking, shivering, shaking. Your what I want most but whats hardest to keep. You're in reach of the stars but won't let yourself see. I've been waiting for you, and I'll wait for eternity.
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May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 1:08 AM UTC
I've been waiting for You
no one is subscribing to the universal affection draining subconscious ailment that needs no treatment quaking with fear shaking with revulsion looking to prolong an hour, a minute stretching one second into ten seconds where are we going, past the streetlights the crossroads the commotion inside the canal boat that surrounds and accompanies this road - will it ends one day, sometimes, somewhere and brings an end to the entire's generation guilt and disease?
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Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 7:33 PM UTC
Crossroads
Earthquake Poem 3/5/2014 What do you suppose an earthquake does? Sure, there are the shakes and scares, Seismic shifts accompanied by tectonic tears. But ditch this global perspective, Figure out what rips those ripples, detective. Let’s see you pound at the ground. Hit it hard, ‘til you hear a heavy sound. Is that enough to fissure some asphalt? Tell me, could you bring this spinning planet to a sudden halt? I can’t say for sure, what an Earth-quake does. Though I’ve been a victim, Earth isn’t where my quake was. An Earth-less earthquake, On a planet whose name I’ve learned to forsake. Wynn’s world wandered ‘round someone else’s orbit: Drawn to its gravity like grapes grow on a vine; Brightened by its solar system’s shining smile, so divine; Emotional tides tugged in and out; Guided by its mysterious moon’s midnight meandering about. That’s right – an orbit with its own time flow. Time that could stomp its heels and steal a spotlight, Time that could manipulate a moment like jello, mayonnaise, or some other squishy substance, Time that could crash course, while standing still, Time that could reveal something you never knew. What do you suppose an earthquake does? A quake could be anything that makes you shake. Think of quaking in fear, as an unknown figure draws near. Think of a jittery heart, that’s been bit by a bullet. Internal tears, think of organs bleeding, Think of needing, solid ground, but falling and time keeps stalling. When a quiet little quiver promises to deliver, its slight shock signal straight through the middle. When a molten magma core fizzes its manic madness, like a shaken soda. When an epic eruption carries out its upward excelsior, Rejecting the spinning without a stop. Oh, the mountains will tumble, The hills and valleys, they’ll crumble, And gurgle in the raging rivers’ rumble, As volcanoes churn out violent bubbles, Stirring up all kinds of troubles, For one person’s personal planet. For one person’s personal planet, These violent forces of nature can’t compare to an Earth-quake, When the ground you stand on begins to break, When you realize your senseless stability is fake. When that little quake knocks your Earth awake, It’s reality coming alive to take, and take, and take, Because for love, you put everything at stake. What do you suppose an earthquake does? I’ll tell you – it leaves a wrecked world with a cracked core and scorched surroundings. Just because. Just because, love on Earth always comes with a quiet little quake.
0
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 1:44 AM UTC
Earthquake
Earthquake Poem 3/5/2014 What do you suppose an earthquake does? Sure, there are the shakes and scares, Seismic shifts accompanied by tectonic tears. But ditch this global perspective, Figure out what rips those ripples, detective. Let’s see you pound at the ground. Hit it hard, ‘til you hear a heavy sound. Is that enough to fissure some asphalt? Tell me, could you bring this spinning planet to a sudden halt? I can’t say for sure, what an Earth-quake does. Though I’ve been a victim, Earth isn’t where my quake was. An Earth-less earthquake, On a planet whose name I’ve learned to forsake. Wynn’s world wandered ‘round someone else’s orbit: Drawn to its gravity like grapes grow on a vine; Brightened by its solar system’s shining smile, so divine; Emotional tides tugged in and out; Guided by its mysterious moon’s midnight meandering about. That’s right – an orbit with its own time flow. Time that could stomp its heels and steal a spotlight, Time that could manipulate a moment like jello, mayonnaise, or some other squishy substance, Time that could crash course, while standing still, Time that could reveal something you never knew. What do you suppose an earthquake does? A quake could be anything that makes you shake. Think of quaking in fear, as an unknown figure draws near. Think of a jittery heart, that’s been bit by a bullet. Internal tears, think of organs bleeding, Think of needing, solid ground, but falling and time keeps stalling. When a quiet little quiver promises to deliver, its slight shock signal straight through the middle. When a molten magma core fizzes its manic madness, like a shaken soda. When an epic eruption carries out its upward excelsior, Rejecting the spinning without a stop. Oh, the mountains will tumble, The hills and valleys, they’ll crumble, And gurgle in the raging rivers’ rumble, As volcanoes churn out violent bubbles, Stirring up all kinds of troubles, For one person’s personal planet. For one person’s personal planet, These violent forces of nature can’t compare to an Earth-quake, When the ground you stand on begins to break, When you realize your senseless stability is fake. When that little quake knocks your Earth awake, It’s reality coming alive to take, and take, and take, Because for love, you put everything at stake. What do you suppose an earthquake does? I’ll tell you – it leaves a wrecked world with a cracked core and scorched surroundings. Just because. Just because, love on Earth always comes with a quiet little quake.
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58
i you say i am honestly not the same person i say one day i woke up honest and i do not know how to undo experience my own eyes and ears and nose and mouth cannot be undone at the moment how do you do it? push that pressure to the back of your mind like that how do you all manage to laugh with a straight face at things that you know aren't really funny i can't fathom it. where you go when you are stomping and ripping and ****** and jeering and laughing and running it's exhausting to watch you ii i apologize if it doesn't make sense that i can't play along but playing along doesn't make sense i could never win a grammy with this tight lipped smile laughing at the expense of others makes me feel more like a paparazzi placating insecurities for currency leeching off the vulnerability you may not think i'm smart but i am smart enough to know this is not 'normal' and there is nothing wrong with staring at you in the rearview and saying "i wish that was really sarcasm" i'll tell you the truth and you don't have to like it and you don't have to like me and i don't have to like you because if there's one thing i know about myself it's that i don't dislike anybody until they show off their callousness hoping it's the right party trick to gain respect iii we watch comedy tv, and you are worried by the way my spine cracks when i let out a uncontrollable laugh dragging on, beginning to spill, and as i try to quell it my whole body shakes with the pressure of it bubbling inside of me you feel all of this beside of me a small volcano with a bent back quaking absorbed by pillows and flowers and cushions not quite right for you wondering why i couldn't laugh like this earlier when we were not alone everyone is looking for something more porous more willing to let in effortlessly and absorb tirelessly that can simply laugh like a stream bubbles and let go of the undercurrent yet we are sharp and uneven and course like logs and the weight of our actions carries much further being shunted downstream by tides of gravity every intention runs it's course every intention speaks volumes if you feel that in your core every day you will uncontrollably think of how every intention defines the quality of the laughter stuck in someone else's head and you will save it for things that are funny
0
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 4:26 AM UTC
honesty, paparazzi, volcanoes, undercurrents
i you say i am honestly not the same person i say one day i woke up honest and i do not know how to undo experience my own eyes and ears and nose and mouth cannot be undone at the moment how do you do it? push that pressure to the back of your mind like that how do you all manage to laugh with a straight face at things that you know aren't really funny i can't fathom it. where you go when you are stomping and ripping and ****** and jeering and laughing and running it's exhausting to watch you ii i apologize if it doesn't make sense that i can't play along but playing along doesn't make sense i could never win a grammy with this tight lipped smile laughing at the expense of others makes me feel more like a paparazzi placating insecurities for currency leeching off the vulnerability you may not think i'm smart but i am smart enough to know this is not 'normal' and there is nothing wrong with staring at you in the rearview and saying "i wish that was really sarcasm" i'll tell you the truth and you don't have to like it and you don't have to like me and i don't have to like you because if there's one thing i know about myself it's that i don't dislike anybody until they show off their callousness hoping it's the right party trick to gain respect iii we watch comedy tv, and you are worried by the way my spine cracks when i let out a uncontrollable laugh dragging on, beginning to spill, and as i try to quell it my whole body shakes with the pressure of it bubbling inside of me you feel all of this beside of me a small volcano with a bent back quaking absorbed by pillows and flowers and cushions not quite right for you wondering why i couldn't laugh like this earlier when we were not alone everyone is looking for something more porous more willing to let in effortlessly and absorb tirelessly that can simply laugh like a stream bubbles and let go of the undercurrent yet we are sharp and uneven and course like logs and the weight of our actions carries much further being shunted downstream by tides of gravity every intention runs it's course every intention speaks volumes if you feel that in your core every day you will uncontrollably think of how every intention defines the quality of the laughter stuck in someone else's head and you will save it for things that are funny
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68
bathed in the cool light of the moon, my sweet puppyhead and me, sit. under the full soft light,  her ray’s illuminating the yard, the woods. footsteps crunch drying leaves, fox, deer or foe? waning canopy, boughs lighter each day. fall, majestic, peaceful dying for another year. plants and creatures,  taking refuge in the deep dark void of mother earth, of mother nature. squirreling away tidbits for a late winter snack, coats blooming, thickening. such delight,  each night, sitting outside, my puppyhead and me. quiet and solitary, no humans  annoying me. silent and still only nocturnal creatures meandering about. what magic, what sacredness. what mystical delight. never apart, only the ONE. such silly confusion, thinking a person, separate and small, quaking with fear. the big deep dark mystery laughing and jovial, always here, here for us all. open your eyes,  feel your nature, always here, never apart. fearing death fearing life, what a silly way to live this life! the moment you were born, you began dying, what a relief, knowing the score! relaxing into the madness, laughing at it all, pure and free, forever more,  and not…… being, not being, eons of reflection, sages and rishis revealing the truth, it can’t be done for you, only you can become  that which you are…. that which you always were. my sweet love, my sweet life, my puppyhead and me, sitting here in Fall. ~~~
0
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 6:32 PM UTC
Moon filled, Early fall morning
Hello Chicago Flat carpet-town of corn meal steel spears at the northern junction of Cahokia and some unknown dream No lillies grow here sir, no tulip fields though there are many Dutch a little up north Wisconsin, dontcha' know? Family blood rains through the Chicago river named of the blood of a slain tribal wonder wanders with the roaming buffalo I sat at the top of Sears (Willis) Tower and peered into the foggy distance and made out the shores of Michigan through Indiana the leftover rains of a continental freeze churned the earth to butter and carved the arteries and bowels of today's earthly body And when we drove in from O'Hare in the late hours on incessant stoplight highways counting down the streets thinking maybe they'll go all the way to Mississippi just a long row of Concrete I saw the brick tower of a decrepit Frito-lay plant where they cooked their corn and potato into succulent can't eat just one little snacks for the whole of america to enjoy in backyard barbecues and convenience stores and grocery outlets All across the planet Now with the trucks they come and go up to and whizzing past Chicago on to greener states with greater relief with hills and lakes and winding streams Different sections of the sculpture Cities eroding into the pleasant coasts quaking and breaking into tiny stones a monumental David cracked in the gallery bird **** corroding the silicates unpolished and immortal words Chicago! oh you mighty city you built from sod and sweat and dew of new morning I see your towers you dreamer, you But your towers are in Dubai, and Shanghai now The world moved on and forgot everything about that magnificent mile burned to make you earn new toys and fancy things from far beyond your winding river streams But you didn't die amazing, how much they tried to rust you out to bleed you dry no, Chicago, you keep your ***** rivers flowing all the way to the Mississippi flanked by modern Roman concrete all the way to the great green sea out into the puddle that surronds the Amerigo Chicago don't you give up that river dream
0
Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 3:26 PM UTC
O'Chicago
Hello Chicago Flat carpet-town of corn meal steel spears at the northern junction of Cahokia and some unknown dream No lillies grow here sir, no tulip fields though there are many Dutch a little up north Wisconsin, dontcha' know? Family blood rains through the Chicago river named of the blood of a slain tribal wonder wanders with the roaming buffalo I sat at the top of Sears (Willis) Tower and peered into the foggy distance and made out the shores of Michigan through Indiana the leftover rains of a continental freeze churned the earth to butter and carved the arteries and bowels of today's earthly body And when we drove in from O'Hare in the late hours on incessant stoplight highways counting down the streets thinking maybe they'll go all the way to Mississippi just a long row of Concrete I saw the brick tower of a decrepit Frito-lay plant where they cooked their corn and potato into succulent can't eat just one little snacks for the whole of america to enjoy in backyard barbecues and convenience stores and grocery outlets All across the planet Now with the trucks they come and go up to and whizzing past Chicago on to greener states with greater relief with hills and lakes and winding streams Different sections of the sculpture Cities eroding into the pleasant coasts quaking and breaking into tiny stones a monumental David cracked in the gallery bird **** corroding the silicates unpolished and immortal words Chicago! oh you mighty city you built from sod and sweat and dew of new morning I see your towers you dreamer, you But your towers are in Dubai, and Shanghai now The world moved on and forgot everything about that magnificent mile burned to make you earn new toys and fancy things from far beyond your winding river streams But you didn't die amazing, how much they tried to rust you out to bleed you dry no, Chicago, you keep your ***** rivers flowing all the way to the Mississippi flanked by modern Roman concrete all the way to the great green sea out into the puddle that surronds the Amerigo Chicago don't you give up that river dream
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81
# *Souls embroidered with sweet sighs of passion Musing of nights in lace & white satin On a vista of flesh, flushed with desire Riding the flames on a passage of fire The beating of drums, commanding the night To the rhythm of hearts, passion ignites Wrapped in immortal flames of the sun Burning together, two become one Flesh upon flesh, a spirited dance Welded by whispers of love, of romance Temperatures rise in a fever of lust Stoking the flames, ****** after ****** Riding the swell, in a race to the shore Try to repress, but needing it more Virtue be ****** in the rage of desire Flames rise in hunger, higher n' higher Charging the crest, temperance slips Drawing the reins in a white knuckle grip Crashing of waves unleashes the flood Quaking the heart, and searing the blood Spewing of flames in the crash of the tide In a warm sheen of sweat, fervor subsides Energy spent in the throes of release Collapsing together, the story complete* #
0
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 7:48 AM UTC
In Lace & White Satin
and        just like that I am falling unfolding in your eyes layers of shadows unraveling in polar-laced               spirals of hunger deep freeze melting upon tongue an icy build-up thawed in seconds for my very cells burn           beneath your gaze as you take in the fullness                  of my presence      despite the smoky, glass-paned haze My presence-      suffused with           the darkness of silk-           I want it to graze your skin the most gentle feather   stroking emotion        coaxing out the         delicately-wrapped           firestones in you            spinning them into     a frenzied lava-slaked ocean      and then those unexplained, flurried lattice flakes that somehow soothe and cool within this inferno of just-missed proximity My essence              is cast like a net over you as we dive into          the volumes as I pull the heated visions out of your mind              feel your heart's closest   most tiny reverberations            little beats barely heard yet in some unlikely way pump blood into mine Undo me as my wet blue pools dissolve into yours my trussed-up implosions flowing out in air-spun tempest Unwrap my defenses           a soldered-up dam breaking                  a glass tubular bell                    hairline fracture quaking Strip me bare no need to even touch me for the vapors of your voice remove the layers of debris like the steam of earth irons out the blackened quilt of sky to reveal the altar            of our stars
0
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 4:07 AM UTC
the altar of our stars
and        just like that I am falling unfolding in your eyes layers of shadows unraveling in polar-laced               spirals of hunger deep freeze melting upon tongue an icy build-up thawed in seconds for my very cells burn           beneath your gaze as you take in the fullness                  of my presence      despite the smoky, glass-paned haze My presence-      suffused with           the darkness of silk-           I want it to graze your skin the most gentle feather   stroking emotion        coaxing out the         delicately-wrapped           firestones in you            spinning them into     a frenzied lava-slaked ocean      and then those unexplained, flurried lattice flakes that somehow soothe and cool within this inferno of just-missed proximity My essence              is cast like a net over you as we dive into          the volumes as I pull the heated visions out of your mind              feel your heart's closest   most tiny reverberations            little beats barely heard yet in some unlikely way pump blood into mine Undo me as my wet blue pools dissolve into yours my trussed-up implosions flowing out in air-spun tempest Unwrap my defenses           a soldered-up dam breaking                  a glass tubular bell                    hairline fracture quaking Strip me bare no need to even touch me for the vapors of your voice remove the layers of debris like the steam of earth irons out the blackened quilt of sky to reveal the altar            of our stars
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66
Twirl your tastebuds — let me taste your modal schwa your vellum staining truth or dare, let me down your feather-quill; your quenching quantum quaking.
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Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 11:56 PM UTC
psychomelee
I remember sitting by the lake, my legs pulled against me in the darkness. The sky flashing above me and the wind whispering through the air. So many feelings in one night... The water glistened with each strike of lightening and shook with each deep rumble of thunder. The grayness of it all was enough to make any and all wonders unparalleled in my mind. I wish I was on a boat in the storm feeling each and every motion of the water. I wish I could have felt it breathe in and out and cradle me in its arms. I wish I could have tasted the moisture in the air and smelled the rain. I know that no matter where I go, whenever I hear the rain that lake is quaking anxiously awaiting my return.
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Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 3:08 AM UTC
The Lake
The puppet's second awakening is a knight of crusading, evils boots I bet are quaking, especially when his sword starts shaking. Though made of wood he's hardly bored, he's killing all the little lords. Royalties high but he'll bring them low with one fell swoop and mighty blow. Arrows cut but they don't dry, fires good but you just try. He's got a shield it's good for blocking, you better be ready when he comes knocking. All in all he's quite the lad, made of wood and iron clad. And with his holy cross of might he'll slay all evil in his sight.
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Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 5:02 AM UTC
Iron Lad
Sometimes when sorrow sinks in I worry a wailing might screech from my chest And every person for miles might hear it. Or feel it shake the air, like hot flame Ripples carrying my saddest indulgence As the beast that weighs me down, croons. So that people quaking, step out of the way And we have room to sing the lonely wail, some more.
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Sep 29, 2019
Sep 29, 2019 at 2:40 PM UTC
The Crooning Beast (Singing the Lonely Wail)
Crumbling down Seek safety in a doorway I feel the walls shake Falling falling under your gaze Warmth in your smile Left my world trembling Splintering and breaking apart reasoning Wave after wave, nerves carrying this seismic activity And I am quaking for your touch Unable to speak Unable to hold my balance Gripping onto the doorway, knuckles white Gaze to the floor, focusing Quivering lips, wavering breath I am in the doorway you have just crossed Clutching your arm you stop Looking at each other You know what I can’t say Pulling me close Tumbling, crumbling are these walls Heart tremors Love has come and shook my world upside down
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Jul 26, 2020
Jul 26, 2020 at 5:15 PM UTC
Earthquake
.               (  (  growing gray cloud of smoke and ash  ) )               (  (  expanding mass of poisonous gas  ) )                          (  ( billowing upwards into the air ) )           a                             (  (    dark    omen    of    )  )                    s                                  (  (      despair      )   )                         h       (    \\           //    )                                          (   \\        //   )                                 g                                            (  \\     //  )                                     e                                               \\\\\  /////                                        n                                                 \\\\\/////                                           t                                          the                                                     l                                     peak's        top                                    y exploding     right off                        glacial snows melting down                       f                      lava flows heading for the town                     a                    terror! destruction! fright erupting out                   l                extinct beast awakens, roaring primal shout                  l            mountain trembling, earth shaking, people quaking           s        in fear and wonder, transfixed by summit torn asunder        fire and fury blend with the sky as we flee and ponder why we await this rage from the earth but the beauty makes it worth all the deadly risks we know we face in living at this volcano's base
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Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 2:18 PM UTC
Volcano
.               (  (  growing gray cloud of smoke and ash  ) )               (  (  expanding mass of poisonous gas  ) )                          (  ( billowing upwards into the air ) )           a                             (  (    dark    omen    of    )  )                    s                                  (  (      despair      )   )                         h       (    \\           //    )                                          (   \\        //   )                                 g                                            (  \\     //  )                                     e                                               \\\\\  /////                                        n                                                 \\\\\/////                                           t                                          the                                                     l                                     peak's        top                                    y exploding     right off                        glacial snows melting down                       f                      lava flows heading for the town                     a                    terror! destruction! fright erupting out                   l                extinct beast awakens, roaring primal shout                  l            mountain trembling, earth shaking, people quaking           s        in fear and wonder, transfixed by summit torn asunder        fire and fury blend with the sky as we flee and ponder why we await this rage from the earth but the beauty makes it worth all the deadly risks we know we face in living at this volcano's base
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i was told not to read that book it said right there on the cover that if i did i would become a scourge like a hidden genies dagger the sight of which would terrorize some and draw others to me those strange few who cry to feel it wound their flesh and crave its rupturing cold edge an obsession in motion demanding they lose themselves in the rapture of dangerous weapons of pleasure and pain their kiss an obscenity sure i thought and as i read it anyway it's words   where like a cocked gun blasting a slow-motion bullet like a bomb in the skull   shattering brains with a storm of licking tongues and kicking feet my death scattered me into a great light that casts a long shadow of headless prancing nymphs their menstruum, kaleidoscopic winding red ribbons fruits of both heaven and nightmares like a river of elastic mouths shifting form like chewed gum thunder filled the house a dark paradise found lost in the realm of the senses quaking and torn from this gleaming blade its caress a sanctuary pulled tight over searching fingers that roam for damp places in a flickering daze hiding a frozen scowl in impossible times
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Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 3:58 PM UTC
Impossible Times
There are beetles on my skin Attacking my bark With pincers sharp -trying to get in And as they cover me Head to toe in a blanket of living death They tickle in bitter giggles At my senses, set ablaze By their exo-skeletal steps I do not build a scream For the sound would die out in between The sheet of beetles And my trodden lips Instead I lie still Commanding them with my negligence Fusing with their fear-mongering They take my shape; I don’t take theirs I am the alpha insect The form of their nature And now I stand In beetled armor A figure against the sun My shadow raining over the undergrowth Reigning over the under. In this symbiosis we travel Across valley and valley Coleoptera-covered Rand McNally Covering the earth, showing The dominance of man The man the man He who holds the plan In the palm of his life-colored hand I am he The guardian of land and sea Infected with a voice-in-hand Who writes eternity Whose pen is the land filled with ink of the sea And with beetles of lead I harmonize That between myself And quaking skies As the world shakes in its roots During a spacequake That bends our atoms like dried glue But then I am not alone And as I rest on grass of gold The heroes step forth, dressed in animals In a dark, ****** harmony That is the nature of our home, our Terra The brute beauty in black void Swimming through time like a turtle On which the souls of man rest On golden grass Our spherical nest And our evils are justified By the good of our pursuit of beauty Though selfish maybe Though hellish for he That swims on land But drowns as he walks the sea We are multitudes. We are Gaia, we are the mother tree The ****** bliss of humanity Dark and light, both are we.
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Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 8:59 AM UTC
Beetles
There are beetles on my skin Attacking my bark With pincers sharp -trying to get in And as they cover me Head to toe in a blanket of living death They tickle in bitter giggles At my senses, set ablaze By their exo-skeletal steps I do not build a scream For the sound would die out in between The sheet of beetles And my trodden lips Instead I lie still Commanding them with my negligence Fusing with their fear-mongering They take my shape; I don’t take theirs I am the alpha insect The form of their nature And now I stand In beetled armor A figure against the sun My shadow raining over the undergrowth Reigning over the under. In this symbiosis we travel Across valley and valley Coleoptera-covered Rand McNally Covering the earth, showing The dominance of man The man the man He who holds the plan In the palm of his life-colored hand I am he The guardian of land and sea Infected with a voice-in-hand Who writes eternity Whose pen is the land filled with ink of the sea And with beetles of lead I harmonize That between myself And quaking skies As the world shakes in its roots During a spacequake That bends our atoms like dried glue But then I am not alone And as I rest on grass of gold The heroes step forth, dressed in animals In a dark, ****** harmony That is the nature of our home, our Terra The brute beauty in black void Swimming through time like a turtle On which the souls of man rest On golden grass Our spherical nest And our evils are justified By the good of our pursuit of beauty Though selfish maybe Though hellish for he That swims on land But drowns as he walks the sea We are multitudes. We are Gaia, we are the mother tree The ****** bliss of humanity Dark and light, both are we.
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