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Ndolo Jun 2018
I haven't written in a while
The time it takes to swallow your thoughts and let them stew in your belly?
The only thing that'll come out is **** and ****
I'm so tired of being evocatively inspired and not have the words to say what I'm feeling accurately enough
I keep swallowing, swallowing
My words stick in the saliva that hydrates my lips
Cracked every time my tongue can't bathe them
swallow, swallow
till I can't anymore
till I can't fight anymore
then,

A swallow flew over head
Dave Legalisa Oct 2018
the only time he
told you he loved you
was when he pressed
his mauve lips to yours
and your tongue
got twisted inside
tasting the thick honey
he sipped between your thighs;

when his claws dug
deeper and deeper
into your muffled skin
making your body mottled
with purple patches and scratches
with rosy blood that hurt
so lovely like thorns of roses;

when his hands crawled
around your body and
his fingertips touched
the parts men should not touch;

when he
finally entered inside you,
penetrating the orifice
every man dreams of getting in;

when he kissed parts
other than your lips
licking your neck
tasting the sugar and caramel
that was your sweat;

when he clenched your belly,
squished it like what he did
to your breast
and to your horror
it felt like a knot
tightening the flesh.

it was when
the wails from your throat
were the words you
could only speak.
the groans and moans
served as phrases
when you couldn't spew well
the correct formula
to whisper the
sensation you felt.

the only way you could
tell him you loved him too
was him to work rough
but gentle,
to go harder and deeper
while his tongue
kept searching yours,
while your bodies clung
chest to chest and skin to skin
dipped above the soft foam
inside that chamber,
and
he did.

finally,
straining your legs apart-
only wider this time-
pushing strong forces against
the nest between your thighs,
collapsing his body,
singing moans and triumphs
as if he
just held the haven,
he whispered something drone
you also tasted
on his saliva,
"it's done" he said
and,
in that moment
when he stopped driving
and he pulled
his manhood stick back
from your nest,
you knew,
it only
was your body
that he wanted.
Graff1980 Dec 2018
I spent years
with poor circulation
nerve ends strangled
in abject agony,
following your insanity
while blaming myself
for the way
you obeyed your rage,
but I might be getting
a little bit better.
I might be
a little less bitter.

I spent years on fire
like a burning house
seeing every optimistic
inch of me
defeated and incinerated
by your incessant nagging,
and jack slapping.
Till, I nearly choked
trying to breathe easy.
When it took
two swallows
to catch my
anxious breath,
one gulp
then halfway down
another gulp
so, I didn't drown
in my own saliva.

Now my freedom
is a bitter sweet
symphony
and though others insist,
I do not need
you to be
in my life,
do not need
the present
or even the slightest hint
of past strife
to be happy
and complete.
River Reed Mar 12
tHE bEAST lIES dORMANT.

You stumble upon a cave.
Cool breath purges from its mouth;
Waves producing shivers—
Shadowed by curiosity?
Cremating all doubts.

And for one last time,
Reason dictates how you behave.

“Come in, oh ripe blood.”
tHE bEAST’S vOICE tRICKLES oUT.

Amalgamated teeth—hung above,
Saliva drip-drops unto the ones below.
Under your feet,
A tongue of damp-dark snow.
Although... last light lies within,
Hence who’s to claim it isn’t so?
Eyes strain—a distant glow.

tHE bEAST lICKS iTS lIPS.

Slight stumble—
If only you could sense these ***** tricks!
Again steady…

aS tHE bEAST iS tOO.

Desperately you reach for the light,
Blinded by its cathartic might,
You grab tight.
Oh!—how the cave grows darker than night,
Depreciating sight.

tHE bEAST’S hUNGER iS sOOTHED.

Relentlessly you paw for a way out,
But the beast’s mouth has long since shut;
Infinite rut—you scream and shout.
Christy Lei Oct 2018
the big white capsule
prescribed for
travellers’
wanderlust
dissolves
swiftly
inside
the sky:
we have all
become the clouds.

//

strangers shared a wet kiss
by the frozen blue
margarita
sea.
hot
saliva
simmering slow.

//

as the ferry pulls
away,
the city’s landscape
fades
as if our civilization
is a mirage —
a lucid dream
shimmering
blue & surreal.
jiminy littly Mar 13
when the mind becomes numb

a skull can be dissected to show its cavities

cavities are the orbit of the eyes

an old Indian saying?


I noticed you really just want to annihilate me

not comfort you.

There is a blood meal in me
ready to explode  

a tombed implosion

an imprisoned ****.


But it's too late for that

time is personal

and lately, voices

I fear the indecipherable is now decipherable

I see in Moriah, Jonah, Tyler incredible nations
Cree, why didn't you listen to me?

can you ******* saliva?
get over it!

you know

the skull was dissected to show the cavities of the orbit of the suns.
zebra Mar 2018
dangerous woman
she looked good in black electrical tape
with a knife in her hand
ready to yield to a switch blade bite
a red comet
scarring the pale blue sky

trussed like a raveled snake
tight around her belly throat ankles and thighs
her lips sealed shapeless
with a black
X
shut down hard
and needing it bad

a black light
Lilith

the *** ***** look
aches to be used
ravished
and amused
head back
*** high, enflamed
maid for love
a moist yoni clam
pushing up from the earth
in pink ******* smeared puce
red rubber sheet
for the mess she wants to be
dressed in salad oil
extra ******
hot pressed
a squandered torso flexed
buttered *****
like a gaping toothless mouth
her pain pleasures dinner
with searing crystal eyes
her mouth fire black
and rabid pink tongue
pink flickering hot
i brawl under her feet
like a mob of bloodthirsty *****
chattering slaves
masters of the taboo
face down in her heat
her musk is in my lungs
i'm
lost in her every twitch and writhe
a ******* bucking *****

can you touch her mystery?

there are many women like her
more then we can imagine
behind stone faces
of shame
in every culture
and innocence

what they do is secret
so dark like clanking skulls between open thighs
dancing goth belly rolls
in a crypt of jerking slick *****
and greased swollen *****

have you met her?

she holds her cards close
but dies in desire
that you may ******* her
insertions
insertions
insertions
the glory of gory sumptuousness
every hole
a wound of butter and fire

can you feel her at a glance
the whites of her eyes like a flashing ghost
handcuffs razors and a black nine tails
the aesthetic of voluptuous cruelties
barbarous ***** upleaping
a tarnished moon
of broken skin weeping red
and begging mouth for tender kisses too
the hard geometry of red teeth
and milk saliva out of curved lips
through flesh
that brings
tears like rain to swooning visions
that yield relief
like heavy cloud monsoons
plummeting

a dark storm of craven urges
poised dregs and stretched legs
from the black corridors of her soul
a plate of ****** *******
and bruised thighs

service with a smile

squeals and welts
whelping gorgeous
ascending from ****
like temple incense
melting the gates of heaven
with
screaming lady sauce laughing
giving God
the **** of the beast

she wouldn't have it any other way
can you touch her mystery?
For Liz Vicious Dark and those like her
Michael Briefs Nov 2017
Wrestling with the rifts within,
Fraught with an inner turmoil,
I stagger down to the sea,
Seeking to uncoil.
Standing out on the pier,
Alone with the song of the shore
And the sea around me,
The bitter questions dissipate,
The draining weight lifts free.

Waves crash and currents move
Like gravity made plain;
A watery force droning as voices
Sustained.
The sound of this presence pulls me
Into a trance of fate.  
My reverie foments, my mind drifts
And my thoughts fly
Like sea spray.

Inside, I am dancing, daring, flirting with
Danger and teasing the tides!
Soon, I feel like I am floating above
The deluge,
Yet my courage abides.

I am in that place
In the midst of a constantly flowing
Flux,
But I am steady,
Held within its reach.
I am not lashed by the elements
Nor tattered by the winds…
I feel immersed in this dynamic
Field of hydro-power
And showering sonic sheets.  

This place has become a part of me,
For my heart has joined with it
And the two become one:
Pulse and flow,
Flesh and wet,
Water and blood
Merged.
It’s the rise and fall of
Centrifugal churning
(beneath the waves and within this body),
It’s the ***** of a quickening surge!

In this bracing instant, we hum
In sympathetic harmony,
Confluent,
Entwined.
At this moment, at once, I am
Vulnerable and victorious,
Pallid and empowered,
Passing and present;
All of these combined.

With the lurking land mass of my life behind
And this mysterious, epic depth before,
My soul hangs suspended
Between,
Alone
And separate from those on the ships and
Those who tread
Beyond the shore.  

Behind, in the earth, I have been fashioned
For a life like the teeming masses
I see every day.
With so many years gone by, under
The wandering sun and the
Waning moon,
I have journeyed in vain.  
With the taste of dust in my mouth,
My feet are blistered by
The fractured terrain.

I am yoked with the weight of
Bruised memories, still unresolved
Conflicts in my mind.
That earth realm leaves me weary,
In black and sullen confusion, blind.

Yet something is calling me back
To forth,
Out from and above those wasted years,
Like so many fingers
Clutched around my neck!
I sense my flight and my future are found before me.
I feel girded for the trek.

There is an overwhelming need
For a desperate DEPARTURETURN!  
To evolve…

Then, within my soul and with
The salt of my saliva,
I gasp at a realization...Yes!
This is a chance to chart my course!
To start my life anew!
To face the epic depth of
This fearful moment!

To descend and rise….to baptize.  

Suddenly,
There seems to be mercury in my
Blood stream for it swells until
My eyes swim!
There is a cataclysm in my psyche
As the crashing ricochets
within!

My soul, my fears, my hopes and my heart
Are fluxing and flying wildly, like sea spray!

There is a feeling of being drawn out,
Like a force of gravity
On a current of inevitability.
At this moment, at last, I am one.
cyanide kisses
subtle, deluded
swaying softly
against the tender
skin
of a sweaty cheek

subdued candle flame
four hips gyrate to
keep
the quiet sting of
counterfeit moonlight

the raging constitution
of knowing your eyes
But pressing hard to
kiss his cough-drop
Tongue
and all this sudden asphyxiation

not looking up to conceal
all the things I see
in the quiet ammunitions
of the letters of your name
fading away
ink bleeding with
his sour hot saliva
in your hallmark ricochet

the one you kept in the shirt pocket
you kept close
to your heart rate

I am afraid.
What to do with such unspeakable emotion?
I will hide beneath the surface
of the fine lines of his face
and forget about the almost
had
the tide against
the rage
in a ship of my own making
an anemone bouquet
the last reminder
of the time and the day
you made me feel
able.
Vera Sep 2018
I. Apply foundation in a tone more perfect than the one you're born with,
doubt that there's anything beautiful in the term "natural"
blot your lips with the cherries you deprive yourself of
and wonder, "What good is difference when it's not appreciated?"

stop reading this.

II. Forget how you were born;
every freckle,
every beauty mark,
every uneven line etched into your face are nothing to be celebrated.
Deprecate yourself, you are unwound and beg this world to shape you in its eyes.

skip this line.

Society speaks subjectively of happiness, but fill your head with lies
that we're all pretty if we can keep up our disguise.
The weight of this world upon your shoulders,
alludes to being big as too much to handle.
Curl into everyone's palm as if you're so fragile,
they have to pinch the skin on your bones with the thumb and index finger.

stop.

III. Draw on the perfectly plump pout, filled with nothing but
expectations of everyone else.
Your beauty is not a privilege for anyone,
but judgment that has defined your worth.

skip.
Emprises that market upon your insecurities,
admire that solemn face in the mirror
as the reflection discourages you
at the acknowledgement of any impurities

Start.

How To Be Beautiful Lifelong


Admire the history that lives within the heartlines of your palms,
how strong you've grown, once cradled in your mother's arms.
Disregard where it is you've come from, but how much further you've journeyed forward.
I. Apply the sincerity in your best friend's voice when
                        she calls the time you've spent together, beautiful.
Do not doubt the splendor that comes from wisdom.

II. Every wrinkle you've earned,
as time gives back to you from lessons learned.
Blot your lips during the release of laughter
as saliva mists through the air,
your joy so vigorous
the ghosts residing in the graves
regret no more.


You are as you should be,
a composite of everything that gives you life
and grants you purpose.
Begging for this world to love you,
there is no fault in this desire.

They speak of happiness as if
it's only a potential-oriented concept,
Do not let your heart surround the gossip
or it's golden armor become bronzed.

III. Draw on the canvas of existence
in the brightest of hues, in the purest of love.
Filled with nothing, but expecations for yourself
say farewell to the darkness
open the curtains to light.

Your beauty is magnificent
as your name will be transcendent.
In each day we decide to be ourselves,
the poise presents itself.


—V.H.
You. Are. Beautiful.
zebra Aug 2018
God came to me one night
and said i'm reading your ****** up poems
don't you think your kinda sugar coating this stuff, gag head?
if your gonna write filth
you need to get a little more ***-centric

i like it raw
with hella lottsa kink
lottsa squealing
more squirting
blood tears mucous saliva
gag why don't ya
and remember ******* are used relatively infrequently
so don't get all hygienic on me
what did you think they are for the rest of the time
besides what's a little **** between friends
and what the **** do you think i sent the devil for
the little *****

PS
if you really wanna be reborn
slide up in that goddess ******
and you'll be surprised
how much better you'll feel

im God for god's sake
i already thought of every
despicable
voluptuous
deliciously disgusting
twisted
tortuous
tormented
sick thing
you could possibly wanna do
so get the **** on with it
adult

thou shalt not ****
leave the fun stuff for me

is it trending?
cupid Nov 2018
sometimes it feels like there’s a shadow of myself cutting off my air
he as both his hands gripped around my throat
tighter and tighter his grip becomes each day
with every thought of this dark overhang of myself
he grows stronger
with all my fury and pain and meaningless sadness
he sinks more into being all i am
the more violence i think of the more i want to choke
choke myself
choke the life out of everything i can touch
with shattered glass and blood
i want to pierce their airways
and asphyxiate them
i want to drown and choke in my own hellscape of thoughts
neon white water and warm violet saliva
i want to escape
i need to panic
i need his hands around my head and heart
choking from the inside out
it kept me in check
shut up
scream it out
choked up on your own words
spit it out
what’s wrong
no what were you just thinking
stop coughing
i don’t know anymore
it’s almost like i can’t breathe
i feel disgusting, lovesick, naive, pained, angry, sick, ******, unrequited
what's wrong with me
him
he did this
I feel hollow
Definitely feel hollow
Swallow me whole
Your stomach won't be full
It'd feel empty
Soul's just an appetizer
For you fools
Shirts drenched by your drools
Swimming pools filled with
Saliva
No need for fire
Or thermometer
Just stick your fork in my friend
I'm fully cooked
zebra Jan 12
they danced in a dream
like a bending shadow
face down
a begging ***
hungry back door paradise

ankles strapped on a foot worn floor
paint faced like Ubangi night
with pin needle eyes

in bed
blood red neon's
cutting curtains
like kissing claws
so their bodies wouldn't forget
dark pleasures lightening
and biting tantra tantrums
swallowing mad ***** blossoms of **** candy
breathing the others inhalations
foot sniffing ballet arch
in fastened Japanese yellow paper slippers

gazing rectums prayer
solar eyed insurrection

finger by finger
clutching wrists like the grave
for bloods salty cove
an injured landscape
a dire chaise desert
like bogs hold bones
a rave for a *****
covered in yellow ocher rubber sheets
soft on the feet
x rated amputee costume
made of blood lanterns and spit

look mommy no arms
a bellied tattoo
of hennaed homunculi  
burning needled skull

black eyed beauty hissing
while cord throated
rip tie
another notch please
a dizzy *******
down silver fluted gullet
in a steamed up bath house
party of blotted sockets

*** kitten
kissed dead girls thighs
tremulous and stretched
a shimmering serum
like wide tubular channels
as pontoon edges slit
through midnight howls for velvet skinned girl
who thrills retrograde
her head a veiled Jehovah
saliva wagging tongue ****
a stuttering ****** dance
a hula hot momma in rubble
slapping hot lipped kisses
over starved darkness
along telegraph avenue
melting eyes like butter
a globed pudding spill
******* drool drops of gold
and black river gladiators
slaughter lies
with every long ******
between cascading squeals

paraphilias mausoleum
like tumbling mice
a scapegoat pulp fiction
chiseled in cement
******* rips
drip drip drip

babbling
**** spasms like a hot glue gun
soiling cherry clover
Percocet
*******
Xanax
OxyNEO

And god knows what else.
You keep telling me “I’m not high I swear! I’m just tired”
But your lips are tinged blue, you have saliva in the creases of your mouth, your body is frail and sickly looking, your skin so white it’s almost transparent. Your eyes are swollen, glossy, and gaunt, your cheeks are sunken, your hair is tangled and unwashed.

“I’m not high I swear!”

But I don’t believe you. How many times have you said that to me only to confess later that you were, that you found a pill and didn’t have the self control not to take it.

“I’m not high I swear”

Yet you randomly smack your head, blurt out random words and nonsense, forget entire conversations, fall asleep mid sentence.

You said you were clean. But the very next day I get a call telling me that you’ve been arrested for a DUI, you had Xanax and Oxyneos in your toxicology report.

I’m afraid to answer my phone when it rings, I always fear it will be the call that tells me you’ve overdosed.

You said “I don’t need to go to rehab, I can quit myself”
But if that were true, you’d be clean by now. It’s been over a year since you told me you were addicted to pills.
At first it was just a perc or two, and now you are a full blown opioid abuser.

You’ve become the thing you hated most. An addict that can’t admit that they have a problem.

“Im not high I swear”

I can’t count how many times you’ve said that, how many times you lied to my face. So many times I never want to hear those words come out of your mouth again.
But I know I will, and I know I’ll go home and cry after and pray to god you wake up tomorrow.

I just want my best friend back, the kind and honest loving girl you use to be.
I’m tired of the you you’ve become.
The girl that lies, that steals, that is wasting away.

If only you never took that first pill.
Addiction steals everything.
Anton Feb 12
orangy iodine skyline
patrols every snow print,
engine motorbike
in a pulsating stomach
is caught by night police.


spruce cults
bend sticky knees
to O Monarch of squirrels, gowks
and serum winds.
O huggo Cyborg,
a luggage of digital blocks in microchips seas,
fire blades and pitchforks
grew straight from handlands,
sanctify a manmade bone with magma,
shield a scarful skin with toneless bedrock.


IT shifted a nuclear pickaxe
out of its deep uranium orbits,
as moths by night lamps
vehicles circle by radio waves
I-T smokes factories and then vomits.

swerved and hung in the cyber net.
benzol streams ran from sharpened teeth
and saliva oceans attach wallow palettes
to underwatering lands - Atlantis.


find my parents under ruins
Crown Shyness Mar 12
Good you mentioned the cheesy moon,
I wanna do some quark with you.

No furter due to
words shocking.

You lay your hands into my bowl
and become part of me,
as you are the one swirling these eggs,
raining sugar onto my milk,
a dewdrop powder,
a kissing shower
up your ankles
to these cinnamon fingertips
stirring my lips,
preparing them to fall softly, sooo softly,
as if we'd be snow,
through yours again.

Creamy, steamy dough,
formed into this foundation,
hosting fluffy strokes
along the mattress
for your divine smile
tasting me.

Wrapping lips around
this delicious sound
coming out of your mouth,
greeting me when the big baking's over,
just for now.

Melting on your tongue
can't be wrong,
your saliva never was,
taking me in, dissolving,
running down your chin,
as the topping was
generous.

There are no places I would resist
feeling you on my tongue.

And so you swallow my dough,
you swallow my magically whipped cream,
down, where the sweetness gleams.
Just about cheese cake of course. ;D
KT Sep 2018
I’ll never forget the skyline that night
The way the pinks and purples bled across the horizon
Or the shadowy crisscrosses of the Girard Point bridge in the distance
5 lanes and Your Song on repeat
The emptiness I felt was like nothing I’d ever experienced before
With the black lace still damp against my body and the smell of saliva still potent on my hand
I told myself that with my contacts in I could pretend to be watching someone else from above
I could make believe that it was a different girl with her back arched as a boy she barely knew made a home inside her
All I thought of the whole time was you
With his mouth all over me I imagined your tongue on my *******
I cried silent tears for 63 miles that night
And then scrubbed my skin raw
Called your best friend and accepted her judgement as my penance
****** in all the hurt when she told me what I already knew-that you would never look at me in the same way again
I hope you never have to wrap your arms around yourself so you don’t fall apart
I hope you’re never so lonely that you give away the thing that means the most to you for an hour of closeness
My darling, just because someone’s been inside of you doesn’t mean they’ll make sure you got home okay
Just because you’ve had someone else in your mouth doesn’t mean you’ll want the man you really desire any less
*** is not a band-aid
I learned that lesson the hard way that night in an unfamiliar dorm room off of I-95
Pinks and purples that matched the fingerprints on my arms playing against the buildings in the distance
A million lives in that skyline
I wondered if anyone else had ever felt this lonely before
Alexander Mar 12
I walked in ready to take you and the moment you looked me in the eyes you new it.
I walked to you grabbed your neck and stood you up. I kissed you biting your lip as my grip tighten.
I undressed you as my hands traced every inch of your body.
Tracking over every detail.
Soon ***** I pushed you down on your belly and I lifted your hips your *** sticking up for me i grabbed it as I spread you for me see that beautiful bush and all, I bit down on your *** and my teeth follow down your thighs .Your already wet? I haven't had a taste yet. As I sink my tongue down and into you getting a full taste of you. Licking my way to your **** as i continue to lick and ****. I flip you on your back and continued until you *** for me.
But I can't stop I've had a taste and now I want more my lips and tongue twist a new language across your **** made just for you and your body.
I continue as your moan grows lowder encouraging me to do more licking and ******* as you continue to *** again and again for me dripping down my chin as I lick it off your body. Licking your **** and ***** following around to your cute ***.
After you've *** for me a few times I stood above you kissing you as your hands reach out for my belt. I can feel my hands already found how wet you are.
My fingers twist a tale as the find there way inside you I can feel you *** again as I rub for the right spot feeling you dripping as your hands already done away with belt button and zipper. Grabbing my **** as you *** again. I sit up as you begin to take me into your mouth. I feel your beautiful lips and tongue my body freezing up Asif forcing me to let you continue.
Soon I'm throbbing and dripping with your saliva.
I kiss you as I grab you lifting you into my lap as you grind down on me. Feeling me push deep ,your hips turn n twist.
We continue more n more until you feel me swelling inside you I grab your hips and push you down hard as you feel me now throbbing inside you, you *** for me again as I pull you up and throw you down on your back. Grabbing my **** as your *** still dripping down my shaft n ***** helps lubricate my final ****** as I *** on your chest belly n ****.
Dave Legalisa Oct 2018
when i tasted your kiss, i sort of felt an air of jealousy coming from a sugar that slept inside a bin my mother gave to me some years ago. it was sweet and unveiling as if your soul just clung to mine and they talked and had their own romantic contact through the abyss of our love. it was eternal too, when your lips met mine like a ship anchored on an untouched shore, i knew i was no longer pure and i felt our saliva waving and mixing with all those forces you plied on. i felt our tongue too, dancing waltz, only the music that stood were songs of our mouths that moaned.

when i tasted your kiss, honey just became insipid that bees were even disappointed and jealous of how lucky i was to have tasted your sweeter lips. your saliva was sticky and thick and, well, probably the sweetest thing i have ever tasted. it swam through my veins. it traveled my body until it left a stain on my heart.

when i tasted your kiss, i should have known in that very moment that it would be the first and the last one. i should have tasted the salt on your tongue, how it was mixed perfectly with the sweetness of your mouth. i should have tasted your goodbyes so my eyes would know when to start streaming the tears, so i should have cherished every ****** your lips made, so i should have let you ******* tears while it flowed down to our mouths.

you became part of me. it's clear that no matter how hard i try to convince you were just somebody who happened to come and go, there are areas now in my body that still long for you, your touch and your kiss.

and my heart, i hear her complains how the stain you left bothers her every night.
is it okay to post a prose here?
Arcassin B Feb 14
By Arcassin Burnham

Weeping to nirvana in a broken place,
Feeling every inch of a warm embrace,
My mind is lost into what is you.
Troubling my soul in frame of ****,
How could this be with a sense of trust?
I'm too in love with all you.
tugging and pushing makes the body high,
I know we could be one with the most high,
Your love is like a drug that makes me fly.
Evolved in a place that's so unseen ,
Bloods will mix and create cream,
I'm just as invested as much as you...

Abstract love , so many colors,
Abstract love , so many colors,
God we need you to save us tonight.

/

Keep on treating me right,
Keep on making me smile,
If you do this for me,
I might give you child,
Is it too good to be true?
Over barring for you?
In the night , tasting your saliva ain't real enough for you?
Give me all of your time,
Give your hugs and **** rubs,
Having bath time with you love, got the suds in the tub,
No pressuring you love,
Yet you gotta trust me,
Beautiful like a flying angel or a watering dove,

Love me like you say you do,
And this will work out in your favor.
Girl I would go miles for you,
Taking your hand in this life.
Love me like you say you do,
And this will work out in your favor.
Girl I would go miles for you,
Taking your hand in this life.
©abpoetry2019

https://arcassin.blogspot.com/p/hi-love-thanks-for-*******-me-over-ii.html
Johnny Noiπ Sep 2018
The sleep of the waves of the stubble to the temple,
watch, & that the smoke of the teeth of the evening
                     holds his forces,                                 & turned in the course
of the voice of the kiss of a teenage vain course of nature trusts,
                     not in Museum of the south,       became aware of the lights
of the corner to the football of the tongue is the pen of the football drink shall be to the madness of the men turn the face of the wind,
go ahead & **** Einstein,                   in the Holy he commit any iniquity,
I will chasten to bring down ladies's socks are for a fool:
but to cut & was caught by a scanty the hidden things
of the eve of the desert;                        the town was captured by the star
of the leather better known to the people
said to the shed upright in their way in the dark,
hidden from the love of goddesses of the shafts w/ furious,
Daniel, holy, a stake may be united to the line of the second Sunday
in *****,  & we had been in the one lamb in the morning, standing
at the turning to the [       ] as he sleep of the waves
of the stubble to the temple,                                                        wa­tch,
& that the smoke of the teeth, a bat they place
had been diverted the course of the sound of a kiss the teenage
vain course of nature          & not made lean Museum
of the south became aware of the lights of the corner
of the football the tongue is the pen of a football drink
a mad face of the wind to **** Einstein,          the Sacred wrong,
I will bring the ladies stockings for a fool to cut
& plucked out of the wilderness
of the hidden things of thin was awake,
the hide of the town of captivated by its star
known more simply call
shed by people says to lay shafts w/ furious goddesses
walked the dark undetected first love, Daniel St.
successful line sweaty coupling Sunday *****
over one lamb in the morning to a warm standing turned
deceased harlots first starts to move abroad for a wide
done great older held;                       Do you think people pay a special
thanks bar strewn shores crew painting a bright dreams
wear a bandage or vaginal main opponents
& my sleep fled from the waves of the stubble to the temple,
watch, & that the smoke of the teeth of the evening holds his forces,
& turned in the course of the voice of the kiss of a teenage
cause is naturally the discharge of trusts no, no:
Museum in the mid-day, the king became aware,
from the lights of the corner to the football of the tongue
is the pen of the football to drink, because it shall be,
as far as the point of madness can convert the face of the wind,
therefore, Moab, to **** Einstein, into the Holies,
having obtained eternal redemption is the 1 that he commit any iniquity,
I 1, I will punish to listen to her husband, & his wife,       stockings,
& a fool, & the dark corners of the cut is taken at eve to this world,
the famine prevailed in the city,                              which was torn w/ a star
fall outside of the skin,             & may be best known to the people,
said, pouring, upright in their way in the darkness,
from the love of self,        & by the Holy Ghost proceeding from the saliva,
but that you be perfected together in the shafts w/ furious,
Daniel, of being in the line of the Lord's angels came to *****
in the evening & the morning were the second,                       & they stood
in the corner, however,     He was like a bow wave in the temple,
I turned to watch the evening smoke teeth
In the course of a voice call
The reason is the kiss a teenager
who suffers an issue;
The nature of the fool
fear no other medium
Museum;      from one end to the lights
But of the day, the language of football
is football 1 to drink out of a pen,                                  in this
case; So the wind was so mad
Moab will be set by Einstein's eternal person
redemption for which the cause of the injury
to the sum of the 11,                         1 visit to fool the husband
& wife Dark;                                     & socks;            A double
cut hunger Let better skin
from the city trapped initially fall;
Note the words;                               He said,            in darkness
as his own;    & a love for the Holy Spirit
saliva,                                    will succeed
It's amazing how much a catalyst anyone of us can play,
and how simple it is to be fodder,
fuel for the flame.
Echoing off the corneas of an
older generation, the imprint
upon the retina of those we're
unknowingly strangling.

Their whimpers fill our oxygen tanks,
their stomach acid resurfaces the earth we burn and purge.
Their saliva cleans the barrels,
their imagination makes the bullets,
their incentive the gun powder,
their action our selfish itchy trigger
finger.

Written apologies through scripted
eulogies; we simply cared little
for your insistance we listen,
easier to brush it under the bed  
we tell you harbors no monsters.
Simplified for us, our course is set
our destination known, yet this
monster tucks you in at night.

I can't with dry eyes ask your forgiveness, for like an addict
we'll be at it again. Burning intellectual freedom, that well bleached parchment we've already scribbled your names upon.
Oh you didn't know?
Yeah we were ready for you,
we knew you were coming.
In our much praised cunning we've
already turned them all against you.

So why don't you swallow your angst,
go ahead and eat that anger. I don't care how much peace matters, go ahead drink that too.
Do it again, and again until your stomach swells and bursts.
See the best part about lack of nourishment it mimics your stomach as if you've gorged yourselves.
And you better believe that's what we're going to tell them, that's exactly what we're going to show them.

Now seriously, there's no monsters
under your bed, in your closet, or outside your window.
Please little one just sleep tight;
don't worry I'll get the light -
click - blam!
Derrek Faraday Oct 2018
I dream of a master, a conqueror who roams
Leading an army of half-empty drones
Ambitions begotten yet souls abolished
Tongues ripped apart and spiders come polished
A realm of no living, dying, only dreaming
The fruit of the mind, the only place worth breathing
Sand is our time, no clock to betray
Our perception under the universe's display

I dream and I know of a very tall castle
Set in the centre of all worlds, all cattle
I conjure my brothers and sisters, they scream
Of human emotions, long-lost and redeemed
I have laid out my tools to carry my life
To settle the dreaming, the abominable strife
The sand to blow into my children's nights
The mask to conquer ****'s realm-less frights

Though I may never walk among you again
I will be happy, remembered, well-spent
And you may live on in the real life we wonder
Where dilated truth, reaching the deep sea and under
I will be eons yet I shall be young
And you may age until kingdom come
For all the living, may I rest your soul
Into the land of dreaming, the years in our control

Shall you want a sea? Should you need the moon?
I pluck from our minds, your life is festooned
I am the passenger you never knew
I am the redeemer that dreamed of you
I will hold strong, for millennia and more
In this dreamless castle of endless doors
Disenchantment is no oddity
For I am the mind’s great commodity

So I am not broken, nor sad, nor begging
I am just tired from eons of dreaming
Sustaining a love that the void must embrace
And merely waved off by the human race
My tongue evolving, yet bitter and dry
No dream could change my saliva and lice
Eat away, for your demons, I feel
O blood, o mama, o touch of cold steel

Death, my sister, why must you succeed?
For all our life, you only plant your seed
So many plagues that I must heal
Countless nomad tears concealed
Our time will come, whence the world will sleep
And no single being will move or sweep
We will fall into eternal slumber
Later awoken by a cascading number

So maybe, I see, that we will carry on
Manifested as gods, manifesting the dawn
And as I see the races die
I can't help but see all of you as flies

I dream of a master, and it is me
I walk down an aisle of obscurity
You will dream until it exceeds your breath
And kneel to the teeth of almighty Seth
Then you shall fly briskly to oblivion
With images falling from your pavilion
Your last breath is put through me

And now, see all you can see
Be happy

The endless reaches for you, my long-dead dreamer
I will send you off into that goodnight
And you will be safe
cryingforhelp Feb 16
You kissed me so tenderly
You held my face
Your lips so soft
Your saliva leaving a trace

On my lips that trembled
As a result of emotion
My heart beat fast
My hands began to sweat

When I opened my eyes
Yours were not closed
You kissed me so tenderly
In such a pose
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2018
a pretty ****** job being an elephant....
i remember walking home,
being asked by two Polaks
to open my mouth, subsequently
being spat on, while closing my mouth...
am i nationalistic...
i'm hybird... i find the monochromatic
culture a... nausea...
ugh...
                   head over heels
when it comes to anticipating the next
N.A.S.A. project.
the country of my birth...
and they give me nothing
but contempt to supposit
the faking of loving....
what equates to merely
strangers.

what broke the camels' back?
being naive as a child to open
my mouth...
              getting a saliva
exchange...
England was no better...
    both nations deserve to be
laughed at.

or as a child might infatuate:
******* both!

i don't like to be spat on...
as i don't like to be deemed
illegal...
                  now take your ****-,
and *******...
to wherever you picked him
from!
and stay there!
          ******... you wanna fight?!
i wanna fight!
i'm ******* itching for a fight!
i don't care if i lose...
i'm itching!
Only the candle was the witness..
It happened in the dark , with no sound .

Communicating through saliva
Feeling your heavy breath arouse me as
You summoned my heart , constantly
Lacing my body with your hands...

Disvirgined my conscious with your
Whispers  and dimmed my creativity
deeply into commotion of love .
Untouched lands within me you discovered ,
Lands never been explored by
lovers who were lazy to travel but
In me , you built a home .

•Refilwe Mametja
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2018
.****... who came first... ol' Jim or ol' Jack? well i know that Jim began his marquees de bourbon 1795... but Jacky boy? personally i can't tell the difference between two... it's not like i'm drinking whiskey... the differences are so much more subtle... and every time i ***** open a bottle... brothel perfumery... that's what bourbon feels like.

the day began with me having a cigarette,
and admiring rain drops hanging off
the washing line...
    oh... like that flock of birds...
that sit on a roof in rows...
it might have been the European starlings,
but, my guess is just as yours...
so let's say... a row of ~starlings...

now for the sentence...
no... wait...
a side-note addition postscriptum
of working from
a sample of a cultural exhange
program from Cold War II


synthetic a priori is
actually synthetic a- priori,
there's no knowledge involved...
only chance, a curiosity,
a haphazard...
   a genius invention,
a "mistake"...
   take champagne
or L.S.D., these are examples
of a case of synthetic a- priori,
i.e. they they take a concept
of synthesis, and apply it to:
with a prior to, said example...
a discovery!

now trying to write that sentence
using 7 variant dialects...
mind you...
i think i figured out the circumflex
over the omicron
in the Kashubian word for boy:
knôp...
             see... the linguistic explanation
is a tongue tied /uo/
doesn't work for me...
i found a better depiction...
      of ô:
i.e. kno'op - the apostrophe better
explains the circumflex hanging over
the omicron...
   it's... such an outdated linguistic
system...
to explain a diacritical mark in a word
with merely more letters,
i.e. ô = /uo/
   i prefer the new method i conjured...
use the whole world
so? the ô in the word knôp = kno'op...
or at least... look here,
there's a U in there, oddly enough,
using the apostrophe you can
create a U shape with this x-ray:

                kno   op
                       U
                                     but saying:
knuop?
                  well, my taste is different...
oh... and... today i watched a scary video...
people were giving out their D.N.A.
details out for free..
saliva swabs...
                     that bothers me...
so... you think these ancestry companies...
will not pass the data
to crime prevention agencies?
   you don't think they're creating
a database... not that you might commit
a crime... but if you were to...
isn't this... minority report?

anyway... looking at these dialects...
oh... look...
     an overring... which is typical
for Scandinavian languages...
  notably in the chemical constant
of the å (ångström)...
     well... that **** wasn't invented
by the Masovians...
  it had to come with the Vikings,
passing down the Vistula to found
Kiev...

(you know you're writing something
difficult to read...
when even you experience... tedium)...
you just know it...

now, the sentence...
utilizing (in no particular order):
Kurpian, Kashubian, Silesian,
Gaelic, Pict Gaelic, Cymru and Cornish...
oh ****... revising the Book of Revelation's
seven headed beast...
i.e. revising... I, V, X, L, C, D, M...

now for some more brothel
perfume... to think of a decent sentence...

( cicha woda, brzegi rwie
   - the silent water tears away
     at the edges -
so much for the freedom of speech,
so much said, and yet,
silence... eats away the fringes
of society, while the majority,
are fathomed, to be subdued
by a lullaby...

  a liar does not walk
on stilts - i.e. a liar is no
             long-shank -


       yr łgårz a 'dèanamh nynj
          ar hir giry
      
- a łżélc je chan eil
                   hir-aranau -

certainly not:
Eideard Fadacasan.

bheith acu:
             déanta úsáid roinnt
   Gaelach,

however much broken.
                                                         ­          )

p.s. if you're not in some way intoxicated,
or in a "schizoid" state of mind,
invoking ciphers and metaphors...
how the **** do you know you're
writing poetry?
is reading the book a revelation
something to be taken...
literally, or with a grain of cipher?
who the **** writes poetry
like its some reply to a company memo?
who makes poetic language
authoritarian,
giving out commands,
or worse still: advice?
     who makes the art of poetry
less than a hallucination of language,
of phonetic encoding that
transcends, phonetic encoding?!
poetry is bound to an inherent
incoherency, because it does not
translate into rhetoric...
it is a fascination with the elevation
of autism into the realm
of the demigod Solipssus...
it can't be coherent,
it cannot be found to not be teasing
the para-schizoid dimension
of the reality of language...
listen...
  i'm not giving you sentences,
i'm not spewing the lawyer gerbil
language of... god prevent us
using the dictionary,
and direct meaning...
we all know that lawyers
have not knowledge of the existence
of the dictionary...
they skipped that part...
and went straight for the thesaurus...
******* weasels...
poetry is the ultimate authority
of language...
if it's confusing,
it's supposed to be confusing...
how can you expect to say:
a square is a square is a square...
how can a poet be poet...
when he hasn't experienced
an auditory hallucination...
you trip on psychoactive substances...
you become a painter...
but people are afraid of what they
might "hear" compared to
something they might, "see"...
the eye is an enthralling palace...
but the ear?
     ah... the scary place...
how would i ever write poetry,
to the coherency standards of
sane people literature?!
   can anyone even comprehend
the mundane reality of
writing sane people literature?!
of course they can...
most of that literature is adopted
into movies...
or, whatever translates the x-ray
into muscles, body, flesh...
you can't be expected to write sane poetry...
you're already dealing
with the metaphysical...
   which implies:
that, which translates
the transcendence of the physical
into the meta- realm...
   of language...
  the, literally is the one poison
arrow that kills the art of poetry...
poetry is, by far,
the best translation of philosophy...
whereas the far *******,
sorry, darker aspect of poetry,
is the, "translation" of sophistry...
but that aspect of "poetry" is
a lesser form of sophistry...
esp. within the realm of populist
poetics...
it's called: latching onto the bandwagon
of what was already said,
and emphasizing a partisan
language of appeasement...
no, philosophy is not a pretentious
genre in literature...
it's just ******* difficult...
plain and simple...
   for a philosophy book,
to be translated into a poem...
5 years, and the greatest aspect of
this scenario?
   it'... inexhaustible...
who the **** expected for poetry
to be a sanity bastion for those
who do not have enough *******
in them to write fictional narrations,
and character plots of expansion?!
Matthew Roe Aug 2018
I saw a gigantic tree.
Uprooted and on its side.
The great roots forming a mane for the snarling ringed face on the stump.
But the fallen beast is taken, it’s husk a Home.
A vibrancy of weevils, ladybugs, frog hoppers, Cockchaffers that’s skittering, scattered like a smashed ant farm.


Around its base were prehistoric ferns,
Curled and scaled like sand lizards’ tales.
Reminiscing the demise of the tyrannosaur.
When dust clouds darkened the sun which warmed their claws.
The skittering skinks, slow worms and other small lizards, who need far less to survive, then feasted upon the monsters’ flesh and found a home in its bone structured palace.

As whale sinks,
Distorted into a globster of its former self,
It hits the sea bed hard in oil-Black darkness.
The hagfish burrow, starved for millennia.
Brutally tearing at the befallen banquet.
Mouths used to scraps choking on steak.
Getting their guts knitted as they squirm over each other to grasp some sashimi.
Dripping saliva as if we’re sweat in the ruckus.

Yeti crab pinch, as do isopods
But get only mucus insulting their jaws.
And they thought they helped to cut up the portions.

Soon all that is left is a skeleton.
Hanging in a museum for future generations to see.

Once again, dust gathers, from bombed out sand.
Erupting in the air as giants hit the ground.
We may soon again see darkness fall.
As the rayiys is skinned.

But no tears are shed.
We all cheer none the less.
About the current (2010s) conflict in Syria, referring to how all hint brutes will fall (tree, T-Rex, Whale) and how those who were below them (Beetle, Lizard, Hagfish) will thrive now that they are gone.

extra-
'Globster'=a carcass washed up on a beach that can't be identified, often mentioned in cryptozoology.
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