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"ravenously" poems
Now they want to come back, Counter attack. Reverberation of statements the mind wishes to retract. A constant stream of this vivid waking dream, Imagining a world painted with images, Not scenes. Screams. They’re challenging again, The force of which bonds the paper with the pen. Again, Hear their violent cries from below. Cruelty, Shame, Each branded by the chain. Ravenously searching for a new soul to tame.
0
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 6:11 PM UTC
New Slang.
Dreary meadows... empty halls... I soak myself in candle light... I wash away my form of wax.. In your tears i find comfort... Bathing in your mind.. makes me relax... Ravenously devouring your memories.... I am the creeping dark around the corner... A future distorted, a past discorded... your present state in turmoil.... Tumbling further into depravity... A shadowy fragment of what once was you... Dripping, gaping maws. Elongated fangs laid bare... Rend sinew and tissue.... Gnawing violently your rotting tongue.... Venom seeps out of every orifice... As you transpire myself from you and dress your misery in flesh and blood... While your sight evaporates... I roll my eyes out of sheer boredom Your frail waxen form.. melting in the heat of my hands... Dripping in dead puddles of discomfort... Your sorrow festers like mould on corpses.... And on that faithful day you gave birth to me... You gave me my name..... When you look in the mirror you will always see... You will whisper my name... Melancholy..
0
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC
Melancholy
I like the thin blond hair on the back of your neck in the light and the way you touch your lips when you're nervous (yes I know you don't know you do that) these 16 years (square root of 256 with a root of 4 8x2) spinning anxiously excitedly baby jeep happiest thing independence is sweeeeeet raindrops are euphoric thank you spring please bring a storm to shake my bones my ****** control growing ravenously frick this shoot I can control my mouth too
0
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 1:28 PM UTC
hey
fury, winds raged the treetops threshing branches, approaching brush. but from a distance, natural destruction, looked like beauty in the forest. and this was just a piece. this is not the whole. inhale, exhale, increasing repetitions repeat, repeat. decrease and deepen. pause in awe of the machine you're given watch the forest faint, beatific ruin. feel the fibers tear in effort feel the area inside you swell this is just a piece this is not the whole. process unto another day with brighter light and seasoned winds as repeated swells exhale an ending breath gawk, inhale, hold, process, yawp; repeat. understand this thing, know it truly die through effort, repeat, repeat. beaks with feathered wings swarmed in silence Persephone cheers with distance, "defy their gravity" here; pause; absorb the leaded revolution weigh inside this mockery of death "this is just a piece, this is not the whole." abandon seated distance, chase with fire the unknown of the unfolding. ravenously consume  the untouchable time feed, inhale, pause, process, exhale, deepen repeat, repeat; endlessly repeat. this is just a piece, this is not the whole.
0
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 2:29 PM UTC
The Weight and Distance of Persephone
I’m in the dream again:                not the one I had while awake in the catacombs of St. Callixtus in Rome.  Where the darkness was so impenetrable that it began to echo.  To look like the mixture of colors that burst when you rub your eyes too hard for too long.  Like the neuron rupture before death.  To shape and morph and become liquid. Where the darkness cobbled itself into a physical form. Not the dream where                    I kept seeing flits of my mother out of the corner of my eye.  Behind                                                                                                every street corner.                                                                                    Every turn.  Every tunnel.         Reflected in the casts of the bodies in Pompeii. Mirrored in the waves of the Trevi Fountain. I’m in the dream where          the soil churned from the bottom to the top.                                  where          the hand outstretched from the grave.                                  where          my grandfather clawed his way out and returned to my grandmother﹘sopping wet, covered in thick mud, socks torn, skin sallow and jaundiced, spitting out the wire the embalmers put in his mouth, melting makeup, and ravenously hungry.  And it’s been so                                                                                    long since he was hungry.   “He came back to me, Taylor,” my grandmother tells me.  “He came back to me.”                                         I don’t have the heart to tell her that he’s undead.                                           I’m physically unable to spit out those words. And it’s a dream and it’s a dream and it’s a dream,                   but it just fits so perfectly.  That he would come back to her.   That death would not be a barrier.  I can’t explain it.                It just is.   My grandmother is a shell without him.   The body that’s missing the limb.   The body that keeps score.
0
Jun 13, 2021
Jun 13, 2021 at 11:36 PM UTC
We Forgot to Give the Funeral Home Suspenders to Dress Him In, So We Rolled up a Pair & Stuck Them in the Coffin Next to Him
I’m in the dream again:                not the one I had while awake in the catacombs of St. Callixtus in Rome.  Where the darkness was so impenetrable that it began to echo.  To look like the mixture of colors that burst when you rub your eyes too hard for too long.  Like the neuron rupture before death.  To shape and morph and become liquid. Where the darkness cobbled itself into a physical form. Not the dream where                    I kept seeing flits of my mother out of the corner of my eye.  Behind                                                                                                every street corner.                                                                                    Every turn.  Every tunnel.         Reflected in the casts of the bodies in Pompeii. Mirrored in the waves of the Trevi Fountain. I’m in the dream where          the soil churned from the bottom to the top.                                  where          the hand outstretched from the grave.                                  where          my grandfather clawed his way out and returned to my grandmother﹘sopping wet, covered in thick mud, socks torn, skin sallow and jaundiced, spitting out the wire the embalmers put in his mouth, melting makeup, and ravenously hungry.  And it’s been so                                                                                    long since he was hungry.   “He came back to me, Taylor,” my grandmother tells me.  “He came back to me.”                                         I don’t have the heart to tell her that he’s undead.                                           I’m physically unable to spit out those words. And it’s a dream and it’s a dream and it’s a dream,                   but it just fits so perfectly.  That he would come back to her.   That death would not be a barrier.  I can’t explain it.                It just is.   My grandmother is a shell without him.   The body that’s missing the limb.   The body that keeps score.
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26
In the moonlit night rich childhood imagines beauty in the moon and an amazing toy for himself he wants to play with his dream toy he finds reflections of his childhood in the bright moon he wishes that the flashing toy remains in his tiny hands for ever and persist to grab it but the poor childhood imagines the bright moon as a piece of bread only and wishes to have it under all circumstances to satiate his hunger but hungry childhood and constrained conditions stand as barricades between his poverty and the beauty of the moon he finds reflections of destitute and homeless child in the milky moon as the moon is only the bread for his hunger he wishes he were the owner of this supernatural bread so that he would never cry ravenously for food. (By Kishan Negi)
0
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 10:10 AM UTC
Rich Childhood And Poor Childhood
I want you, so passionately you look deep into my soulful eyes, I want you ravenously, I want to pull the stars and the moon and give you my light, that illuminating light that comes within, I want to infinitely ravish your thought sense and time, and whisper laughters full of rain, sicken your senses with *** wine and ******** whine and grind and gentle soft kisses ...
0
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 5:26 AM UTC
I want you
Deceiver, desiring only to ensnare another, in webs of selfishness. Thief, lurking , luring innocent victims into the pit of darkness. Murderer , robber, you smile believing to have conquered any doubt with lies thicker than honey. Priceless moments of life led astray by trickery , laid upon chambers of the innocent heart Slowly, slowly, murderous betrayer, fulfilling an ego with self love that will forever be unsatisfied. Experienced trappers should be aware, not to allow their feet to stumble in a trap set for others. Wickedness befriending the liar, balance the scales, ravenously tearing breathing flesh from their bones. Till nothing is left , nothing, but the shell of insatiable unrighteousness
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Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 6:57 PM UTC
The Liars Fate
For my mate Ernest W who cared.... Invisible in silky strands, a gossamer of lethal thought, Drifting through the nether regions, touching on my mind. Complication’s vagaries encroaching on the circumspect Magnifying well beyond solutions I can find. Nervous in the groundswell now, I feel it all inflating, Inflating to a curtaining beyond my self control, Waves of peristalsis in a shrill persistant keening, Locking out the sanity in holding logic’s goal. Waves of peristalsis in a bath of perspiration Panic in a rupture at the coccyx of my spine, Ravenously eating at the fabric of all reason Ravenously gnawing at this rationale of mine. ***** in a puddle on the floor beside my footwear Cloying is the stench of the ***** in my drawers, Lost are the vestiges of any thought of decency Gone is the differentiation in my flaws. Clenching of hands in a bind of blue confusion Catatonic slowness in arresting the decline, Vaccilating eyeballs are rolling for the camera And utter desolation is a flavour on my mind. Why be concerned with the shaming of tomorrow? Why come to terms with the maunderings of late? Why face the music of the mirth and derision When there’s a more practical direction to take? Glide to the realm of the smooth overflowing Slide in the slipstream oblivion makes, Slip the bonds of your sad  mortal tenure’s Awful array of destructive mistakes. Glide to the realm of serene independence Glide far away from the troubled and hard, Gone to the gossamer web of the ether Gone to the nether world’s silky facade. *...........: But what's the guts Courageous, You happy with your deed? Are your friends all overjoyed To see your suicide succeed? Is your family unaffected By the loss and guilt remorse, Your sudden grand departure leaving kids without recourse? Did you think about the aftermath? The chaos and the pain And the long term implications Of your shattered families' shame? The guilt within your partners heart, The kids who are confused And the ****** dissapointment Of your mates.. who feel abused? The mess you left behind you And the tangled web you wove And the bruising of good memories For which, you once,...had strove. Your painless, quick demise, you thought, Released you from all this..... But the sadness in the silent eyes Condemns you as remiss.* Marshalg   In an effort to understand why? ....And explain why not ! 9 December 2010 Read more: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/suicide-12/#ixzz17kzvfsTk
0
Dec 10, 2010
Dec 10, 2010 at 2:09 PM UTC
Suicide
For my mate Ernest W who cared.... Invisible in silky strands, a gossamer of lethal thought, Drifting through the nether regions, touching on my mind. Complication’s vagaries encroaching on the circumspect Magnifying well beyond solutions I can find. Nervous in the groundswell now, I feel it all inflating, Inflating to a curtaining beyond my self control, Waves of peristalsis in a shrill persistant keening, Locking out the sanity in holding logic’s goal. Waves of peristalsis in a bath of perspiration Panic in a rupture at the coccyx of my spine, Ravenously eating at the fabric of all reason Ravenously gnawing at this rationale of mine. ***** in a puddle on the floor beside my footwear Cloying is the stench of the ***** in my drawers, Lost are the vestiges of any thought of decency Gone is the differentiation in my flaws. Clenching of hands in a bind of blue confusion Catatonic slowness in arresting the decline, Vaccilating eyeballs are rolling for the camera And utter desolation is a flavour on my mind. Why be concerned with the shaming of tomorrow? Why come to terms with the maunderings of late? Why face the music of the mirth and derision When there’s a more practical direction to take? Glide to the realm of the smooth overflowing Slide in the slipstream oblivion makes, Slip the bonds of your sad  mortal tenure’s Awful array of destructive mistakes. Glide to the realm of serene independence Glide far away from the troubled and hard, Gone to the gossamer web of the ether Gone to the nether world’s silky facade. *...........: But what's the guts Courageous, You happy with your deed? Are your friends all overjoyed To see your suicide succeed? Is your family unaffected By the loss and guilt remorse, Your sudden grand departure leaving kids without recourse? Did you think about the aftermath? The chaos and the pain And the long term implications Of your shattered families' shame? The guilt within your partners heart, The kids who are confused And the ****** dissapointment Of your mates.. who feel abused? The mess you left behind you And the tangled web you wove And the bruising of good memories For which, you once,...had strove. Your painless, quick demise, you thought, Released you from all this..... But the sadness in the silent eyes Condemns you as remiss.* Marshalg   In an effort to understand why? ....And explain why not ! 9 December 2010 Read more: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/suicide-12/#ixzz17kzvfsTk
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62
Marble black bark grow bed sheets of parchment attached by     strings. Spillage of pink arises from the abdomen. Fused clothing fibers substitute layers of bark......... The vivid aroma of rot and feasting maggots harmonize...............                                  A cadaver drilled by burrowing insects. Beetles, flies, pismires, and parallels. A carcass crammed with 200 seeds. Bulbous seeds in the nose. Deposited bulbs rooted in brain tissue. Thick specks of white nuzzle into flesh emerge. Squirm out of the cubicles.  Insects feasting simultaneously............ A figure emerges from the edge of perception. Routinely gorging the cadavers vital delicacies. Amid spouts of fainting spells....................... Grabbing lumps of brain matter. Shoveling it towards his gaping hole. Ravenously consuming the bland ashen chunks. Gripping the cranium and sipping the diluted *** Sliding two slippery marbles into his gullet. Then suddenly publicizing his medals amid his fangs. Deteriorating into slush immediately........ Piercing the stationary ticker with talons. Shortly guzzling the dense scarlet metallic droplets. Promptly the sticky liquid cerise matter slithered into his craw. Hurling the white speckled rims simultaneously in glee.  Than consuming the exterior synthetic.........     The corpse is convulsing..wheezing..........chest withering in pain. Man devours his own living corpse, neglecting to swallow his toes. A daily phenomenon……to devour yourself.   What of the toes? Looted by a motivated businessman the next day. “Oh the painstaking horror of humanities hunger,” the motivated businessman then asserted into thin air.
0
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 6:53 PM UTC
The Feast
Marble black bark grow bed sheets of parchment attached by     strings. Spillage of pink arises from the abdomen. Fused clothing fibers substitute layers of bark......... The vivid aroma of rot and feasting maggots harmonize...............                                  A cadaver drilled by burrowing insects. Beetles, flies, pismires, and parallels. A carcass crammed with 200 seeds. Bulbous seeds in the nose. Deposited bulbs rooted in brain tissue. Thick specks of white nuzzle into flesh emerge. Squirm out of the cubicles.  Insects feasting simultaneously............ A figure emerges from the edge of perception. Routinely gorging the cadavers vital delicacies. Amid spouts of fainting spells....................... Grabbing lumps of brain matter. Shoveling it towards his gaping hole. Ravenously consuming the bland ashen chunks. Gripping the cranium and sipping the diluted *** Sliding two slippery marbles into his gullet. Then suddenly publicizing his medals amid his fangs. Deteriorating into slush immediately........ Piercing the stationary ticker with talons. Shortly guzzling the dense scarlet metallic droplets. Promptly the sticky liquid cerise matter slithered into his craw. Hurling the white speckled rims simultaneously in glee.  Than consuming the exterior synthetic.........     The corpse is convulsing..wheezing..........chest withering in pain. Man devours his own living corpse, neglecting to swallow his toes. A daily phenomenon……to devour yourself.   What of the toes? Looted by a motivated businessman the next day. “Oh the painstaking horror of humanities hunger,” the motivated businessman then asserted into thin air.
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10
Staccato's of clasping chains.. feverishly flaying your wrists... As a rabid dog chewing off its own limbs to crawl away. You hide in my shadow.. The only place where they cannot get you... While your children burn... A sour scent of ***** floods richly within these forsaken walls... A tranquilizing melody of ****** gargling I will mutilate the memory... I will stain the status you built... I will pluck your fruit and devour it with voracious appetite Gnawing your rotting tongue bit by bit... i drink sepsis that drips from the shank of your thighs.. My hunger everlasting... Ravenously, depraved, my claws rend and maim your angelic wings... A carpet of feathers gusts at your final gasp.... A cold lick on your eyeballs... We drag you into our grave... Rats... Swarms of rats... And i wear a crown baptized and blessed of your blood.... Adorned with warm and beating entrails of the defeated and the devoured... Bricked in walls.... I can still hear you clawing during the most sleepless of sleeps... And taste your rotting tongue...
0
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 9:07 PM UTC
Bricked in the walls
I ache, ravenously hungry for the soothing balm of our throbbing bodies, coming together in a shameless tango of pure, tantric bliss "I love you" gasped in a beautiful staccato from your tender lips and settled gracefully in the crook of my flowering hips My burning tears could never match the inferno of your embrace; my moonlight was helpless to illuminate your darkened gaze Why should we become numb to the loss of love, when love is all there is? Though I don't see you anymore, I still can taste your kiss....
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Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 8:35 PM UTC
Inferno
Caught in the middle, push -pull- ugh ! it's all the same. I saw you grow into who you are. Enraged as I am, I cannot begin to comprehend why. I called you Friend. and yet You stand before me, careless. Oh how the mighty have fallen, how the noble have swindled. it's a Shame really. Betrayal is not a fit word to suit your heinous acts. I trusted you- to think i even dared to. the frustration, the rage; it boils so ravenously. Going down with your ship once again, to carry Your Fault. a comfy front row seat on the S.S. Pessimism. bring out the Artillery, this means war. to stand up and see eye to eye with you, or to take another blow, and swallow my hurt pride? hurling at an insane speed flies your words against my now other wise infuriated Spirt, to dance with a tampered soul is unwise, my friend. you looked at innocence, and treated it like a joke. you go stain your hands with filth from god knows where and then return arms wide open, " I have done no wrong," you say. Guns At the ready and eyes Locked on you, but now... What to trust; to expect from you is just another step closer to your lies. so desperately do i want to help you. I do. but i no longer can look at you the same way. Grenades in hand. if you could be cold and heartless, then this should be no problem for you sweetness. come dance with the same bullets you fired at me. Steady, Aim, Fire. Dragging me down- i don't think so. No. Not this time. the Abyss can expect other visitors. Bring out the Artillery. all because of You... ..Boom.
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Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 3:05 PM UTC
Artillery
Caught in the middle, push -pull- ugh ! it's all the same. I saw you grow into who you are. Enraged as I am, I cannot begin to comprehend why. I called you Friend. and yet You stand before me, careless. Oh how the mighty have fallen, how the noble have swindled. it's a Shame really. Betrayal is not a fit word to suit your heinous acts. I trusted you- to think i even dared to. the frustration, the rage; it boils so ravenously. Going down with your ship once again, to carry Your Fault. a comfy front row seat on the S.S. Pessimism. bring out the Artillery, this means war. to stand up and see eye to eye with you, or to take another blow, and swallow my hurt pride? hurling at an insane speed flies your words against my now other wise infuriated Spirt, to dance with a tampered soul is unwise, my friend. you looked at innocence, and treated it like a joke. you go stain your hands with filth from god knows where and then return arms wide open, " I have done no wrong," you say. Guns At the ready and eyes Locked on you, but now... What to trust; to expect from you is just another step closer to your lies. so desperately do i want to help you. I do. but i no longer can look at you the same way. Grenades in hand. if you could be cold and heartless, then this should be no problem for you sweetness. come dance with the same bullets you fired at me. Steady, Aim, Fire. Dragging me down- i don't think so. No. Not this time. the Abyss can expect other visitors. Bring out the Artillery. all because of You... ..Boom.
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44
They stared down that fruit ravenously as junkies seeking their next fix. Days they spent cleverly concealed high in the banyan boughs by the jungle home. Monkey spies peered longingly, slavering over the scrumptious cornucopia of fruity delight, so close. They watched the white man devour whole pigs three times daily. When he ate he feasted. This gluttonous absurdity shall last no longer, claimed the monkey chieftain. Clang clang, rang the war bells, and primate warriors gathered, plotting a master plan, the "Fruit Bowl Coup." Gangsters conniving their next hit, the monkeys schemed day and night. The fruit shall be ours at last! The white man's snores rumbled after lunch. He dazed in a satiated stupor. With vine ropes and a leafy gag, the monkeys stormed in. A score tied him down, muffled his pitiful squeaks. The rest raided, took siege over the kitchen, plundering pirates. They filled their cheeks and hands with fruit, then brought their ***** back to the tribe. They feasted for days and the white man cried.
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Dec 26, 2009
Dec 26, 2009 at 11:23 PM UTC
The Fruit Bowl Coup
Ingrid sat on the brick wall of the bomb site her hands in her lap her untidy hair held in place with wire grips the plain grey cardigan and dress had food stains here and there you sat beside her in jeans and bought for you cowboy shirt the Saturday film matinée just seen suppose I'd best be home Ingrid said before Dad gets back he doesn't know I went to the pictures and he'll say it's a waste of money but it's only 6d you said surely he wouldn't begrudge you that? she said nothing but stood up and brushed down her dress best go she said wait a while you said let's buy some chips before you leave I've no more money she said I have you replied patting your jean's pocket ********* the 6 shooter toy gun hanging at your waist best not she said if Dad sees me he'll go off the deep end she stood there half undecided chips with salt and vinegar and maybe an onion or two you added giving her a look your head to one side she bit her lip as she fingered her cardigan but Mum said not to be late Ingrid said sometimes they throw in a slice of bread and butter you said especially for kids if you give them I'm starved look she smiled her hands going into the cardigan pockets what if he sees me go in there? she said he won't you said he couldn't see the end of his nose without getting dizzy you said anyway he might not be back until later she shrugged and then said ok if we're quick and so you stood up and walked her up Meadow Row and across the road to the fish and chip shop and bought 2 bags of chips and onions and 2 slices of bread and butter because you both gave that we're starved gaze you walked her back down Meadow Row eating in silence she eating ravenously her fingers busy her mouth opening and closing once you'd finished and you'd stuffed the waste chip papers into a bin by the grocer's shop she said thank you that was scrumptious and she kissed your cheek and walked off and across Rockingham Street towards the Square at the top by the entrance with arms crossed grim face Ingrid's father stood scowling standing there.
0
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 2:51 AM UTC
THE COST OF A BAG OF CHIPS.
Ingrid sat on the brick wall of the bomb site her hands in her lap her untidy hair held in place with wire grips the plain grey cardigan and dress had food stains here and there you sat beside her in jeans and bought for you cowboy shirt the Saturday film matinée just seen suppose I'd best be home Ingrid said before Dad gets back he doesn't know I went to the pictures and he'll say it's a waste of money but it's only 6d you said surely he wouldn't begrudge you that? she said nothing but stood up and brushed down her dress best go she said wait a while you said let's buy some chips before you leave I've no more money she said I have you replied patting your jean's pocket ********* the 6 shooter toy gun hanging at your waist best not she said if Dad sees me he'll go off the deep end she stood there half undecided chips with salt and vinegar and maybe an onion or two you added giving her a look your head to one side she bit her lip as she fingered her cardigan but Mum said not to be late Ingrid said sometimes they throw in a slice of bread and butter you said especially for kids if you give them I'm starved look she smiled her hands going into the cardigan pockets what if he sees me go in there? she said he won't you said he couldn't see the end of his nose without getting dizzy you said anyway he might not be back until later she shrugged and then said ok if we're quick and so you stood up and walked her up Meadow Row and across the road to the fish and chip shop and bought 2 bags of chips and onions and 2 slices of bread and butter because you both gave that we're starved gaze you walked her back down Meadow Row eating in silence she eating ravenously her fingers busy her mouth opening and closing once you'd finished and you'd stuffed the waste chip papers into a bin by the grocer's shop she said thank you that was scrumptious and she kissed your cheek and walked off and across Rockingham Street towards the Square at the top by the entrance with arms crossed grim face Ingrid's father stood scowling standing there.
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132
you       walk             naked                   and dripping, from       the shower                        and stand,              as i covet                          your                               absolute beauty and magnificence. ardent desire,                raises goosebumps on    my skin,              as lust                     lights the fires. your      eyes,          rake over me                       and i am left quivering.... we come          together, with                   mouths full of greed, lips of desire,              skin so tender.... that the touch               of fingertips,                    scorches and sears. but burn, we must              and burn, we will. as we ravenously, take our fill gorging,            feasting,                       devouring,                                     desire. this is our .....       love's funeral pyre.                       from which the phoenix,         each day arises...              ...more incandescant. to await...           with longing                fervent and asmolder            the next match's                    striking to love's                            lusterous fire.
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Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 1:29 AM UTC
home fires burning(sensual/explicit)
you       walk             naked                   and dripping, from       the shower                        and stand,              as i covet                          your                               absolute beauty and magnificence. ardent desire,                raises goosebumps on    my skin,              as lust                     lights the fires. your      eyes,          rake over me                       and i am left quivering.... we come          together, with                   mouths full of greed, lips of desire,              skin so tender.... that the touch               of fingertips,                    scorches and sears. but burn, we must              and burn, we will. as we ravenously, take our fill gorging,            feasting,                       devouring,                                     desire. this is our .....       love's funeral pyre.                       from which the phoenix,         each day arises...              ...more incandescant. to await...           with longing                fervent and asmolder            the next match's                    striking to love's                            lusterous fire.
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49
We must make love Before we ever touch We must make love As we talk We must make love Whenever we walk Together Or alone Always on our mind As a gentle breeze Capturing your heart With love With allure With anticipation Even as we wait Knowing our bodies Will please the other Because That is what matters Let me be your lover Let me take you there You must know That I crave you I cannot stop Thinking of you Imagining How you will be The singular focus Of my need To engulf you Can no longer be denied And so It is time To be still It is time To be silent It is time For you to submit To me We have gazed upon one another We have bared our souls We have been equals Now it is time For me to be your man And to be a man The way you want me to be The way that I am You don't have to tell me what to do I know what you want I know how you want it And that is what I want So it is time For submission To be beautiful To be desirable To be open To let me run free In your life In your mind In your garden Let me control you Let me turn the key And open the door To the way a man Loves a woman It is time for me To carry you It is time for me To ****** you It is time for you To submit To my lust To my desire To my need To make love to you As long as it takes For your Exhaustion For your Glistening Beads of sweat For your ****** Yes As long as it takes I will never tire Because All I want Is to make you Remember And want more Every night I will be your man I am not beating my chest It is my heart that beats In pursuit Of you My prey Let me kiss your neck Let me turn you Away So I can touch you All over your body Let me turn you And see your body And draw you to me Let me pull you To me So I can touch you And kiss you Ravenously Like an animal Overwhelming you With my passion As you have never felt Passion Dominating your mind So you will forget Your lessons Of childhood So you can be a woman And make love to me Your man
0
Jan 30, 2012
Jan 30, 2012 at 10:28 PM UTC
Submission
We must make love Before we ever touch We must make love As we talk We must make love Whenever we walk Together Or alone Always on our mind As a gentle breeze Capturing your heart With love With allure With anticipation Even as we wait Knowing our bodies Will please the other Because That is what matters Let me be your lover Let me take you there You must know That I crave you I cannot stop Thinking of you Imagining How you will be The singular focus Of my need To engulf you Can no longer be denied And so It is time To be still It is time To be silent It is time For you to submit To me We have gazed upon one another We have bared our souls We have been equals Now it is time For me to be your man And to be a man The way you want me to be The way that I am You don't have to tell me what to do I know what you want I know how you want it And that is what I want So it is time For submission To be beautiful To be desirable To be open To let me run free In your life In your mind In your garden Let me control you Let me turn the key And open the door To the way a man Loves a woman It is time for me To carry you It is time for me To ****** you It is time for you To submit To my lust To my desire To my need To make love to you As long as it takes For your Exhaustion For your Glistening Beads of sweat For your ****** Yes As long as it takes I will never tire Because All I want Is to make you Remember And want more Every night I will be your man I am not beating my chest It is my heart that beats In pursuit Of you My prey Let me kiss your neck Let me turn you Away So I can touch you All over your body Let me turn you And see your body And draw you to me Let me pull you To me So I can touch you And kiss you Ravenously Like an animal Overwhelming you With my passion As you have never felt Passion Dominating your mind So you will forget Your lessons Of childhood So you can be a woman And make love to me Your man
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Gloriously unbound you grow ravenously, Spreading your roots as far as the earth can bare you reach limits unseen, A survivor despite the climate your radiance is saluted, Such beauty in the unrecognized you thrive, Sparkle in silence young wildflower because your time is near, To be adorned in April showers and masked in summer's sun, Magnificent is your journey and true is your existence.
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Apr 23, 2021
Apr 23, 2021 at 2:20 PM UTC
Wildflower
Your eyes tell of an insatiable hunger for me, my person, my body, my heart. You will devour me, If only in your dreams. Dreams, nightmares, fantasies. Your imagination takes off with my memory, My scent, my smooth skin, my ragged breath... The way our bodies fit together just right. Right, I was never right. I was never the girl in the white dress. I was never your angel. But.you.had.me.tamed. I was wild and free, and undeniably yours. Your broken princess, your awesome disaster. And in your arms I was beautiful. And in mine, You were free, Calm, safe, whole, home. Home was something we didn't recognize anymore. And I had a reputation that was never wholesome enough To stand in front of a priest, or your mother. But you still wanted me. Me, who loved you every moment With my sin stained hands and my broken halo And my singed wings. I never claimed to be perfect, But I loved you perfectly. Perfectly and ravenously, We hunger for each other still. So once the world has made you hideous You'll come back to me. And understand that perfect love makes you whole.
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Jan 18, 2011
Jan 18, 2011 at 12:56 AM UTC
Never Wholesome, Only Whole
The night washing over our heaving, fleshy carcasses. Like two crayfish in a current. So you are telling me. We ****** in a whirlpool of sound. In a dilapidated guest room. There. Moaning into you with my eyes, I ravenously endowed our fevers. And you make it into pretty words. Prettier than I could ever polish my sprawling lobster legs into sounding. Who talks like that.
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Mar 8, 2021
Mar 8, 2021 at 6:51 AM UTC
Who talks like that
O body, the little fish you swallowed yesterday Yes, those There are no other reasons For this cat to roam around For the third time Fish swallowed yesterday, do not flail about The globular eyes of that cat O stomach, at least Till it goes away, Do not upset With the slight movements of your waves Body, body Cautiously by the seaside If all the fish that got inside Bounced on seeing the place of origin And if their friends tried knocking on each cell If body, your body washed up all over a shore Kissed by fishes Body, If all that you looked at greedily, All that you ate ravenously, All that you relished slowly Appeared before you sometime If it appeared Body, body, While seeing the kids, If breast milk from thirty years ago spread out If cake and fried liver start out searching for little mouths If all alcohol imbibed Spurted out while meeting friends Screamed out at midnight Recited a ***** poem while no one was listening Body, On a noon, in favorite city If two areolae appeared And again spread brilliance If you spilled out Inhaling that redolence Seeing something, If saliva, sweat or wetness Jump out Body, body If seeing greenery, The cows and buffaloes and rabbits Come out to graze, Frogs start croaking Seeing rain clouds If seeing the sky, The crow and crane inside Start flying If the **** comes out into the yard on seeing the hen, Body, body, If the fish, beasts and birds inside Come out simultaneously, Body, body, Body’s soul…
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Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 8:19 AM UTC
O body, body, O body’s soul
As for me, I favor fire in its various incarnations its many supple siren bodies its many sultry, scorching fingers sensually curling dancing for me like a woman stirring perspiration warming my belly I inhale its ashy breath as it explodes in an ****** of light and dark yellow and black blood orange and ink scalding, searing shaping, sizzling starving, swirling hissing like a serpent cackling as it devours hungering and growling reaching, desirous for anything in its path ravenously sinking teeth into paper edges licking bark of trees ******* the air and sap like marrow and leaving behind only dust insatiable demon that feeds on flesh irresistible angel that warms the soul how would that I could match the inferno of your white-hot gaze! evolve your overwhelming unquenchable thirst for life the ability to destroy and to forge. So as for me, I say at last, I favor fire.
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May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 6:27 PM UTC
I Favor Fire
Arrogantly We fight over …pieces of the earth Ravenously As if driven by …blood thirst We beasts, we stir We **** we pillage …her aquifer We dishonor creation When we act like …we weren't born from her * Reprinted from 'My Hajj A Collection of Poems by Mekael' © September 16, 2011 by Mekael Shane
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Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC
We Beasts, We Stir