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Shake it
What do you hear?
Hold it
What do you feel?
Sniff it
What do you smell?
View it
What do you see?

The angst to know
What lies inside
Is hard to hide.
It’s mystery,
And it’s ****.

The beginning,
The middle, and,
The end of time
All consist of
Some unknown rhyme,
Unknown reason.

The want to know,
The need to find
Consumes the mind.
Curiousness
Creates motive,
Motive creates
Relentlessness.

Being ****
Leads to lust.
A want to know
Becomes a must.
A mystery
That cant be touched
Is like a star
That can’t be seen.

Glowing somewhere
In the distance
We search and search
For what’s hidden.
Can it be found?
Maybe it won’t,
Maybe it will.

Until it is
The mystery
Remains ****
And a turn on
To the conscious
Lustful fervor.

The dark abyss
Of mystery
Is an ocean
That is raging
With sexiness.
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may **** me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
NeroameeAlucard Jun 2016
Hot and sweaty
Nothing pretty but you
Just good old fashioned raw backing  in the bed under the fan with nothing but our hormones and hardness and wetness to keep us company
Your curvaceous body is so scintillating in this summer heat and your hot little hole fit for a pole
Summer is great  because I love it when you let me take control

Summer sexiness...
The idea seemed like all my others genius why think  it through
had my parents ?
**** no if it wasnt for wild turkey  loud music wild women and
bad desiscions   gonzo wouldnt be here.
Thanks for being a party girl mom.

We had gotten hitched  i always said if i found a woman
who could out drink me under the table was smokin hot  and meaner than a rattle snake and would actully have *** with me without charging.
I would make my wife.

From the moment Skeeter had stepped into my life and said hey what
the ******* lookin at ***** ?
I knew that pint size ******* was the one.

And finally after my in house arrest and her brief vacation in Rikers was up we finally  tied the knott  and got married  but enough with the foreplay  children.

Like two insane people  with a shared thought.
The first night was outstanding the second even better she was like a
hot female  version of me.
A teenage hellcat who should have been busted for filling out that sweater  thank god for citezens arrest.

The first  week flew by Ya think we can everday?
My dear  if you just put your mind to it  and some other parts.
I know we  can.
Yes  to have a dream  and to be horney with someone
who shares  the same  dream is a wonderful thing.
Till you have to slip her roofies to get some sleep.
I knew thoose pills would come in handy  than for
just having them for  blind dates.

Although Ive learned your supposed to not take them also.
Then its just awkward waking up looking to the other person
saying hey  what happend and why are we in the burger king rest room?

After a few weeks i learned why people  actully spoke to each  other
and had these thing's called conversations.
I learned my Skeeter   loved halloweeen  for how could she not with so many costumes.
And she had a a real passion for law inforcement  with all the handcuffs  and tazers  a couple badges  a cop car  hmm makes me
wonder could it be yes your right.
People  really get carried away playing dungeons and dragons.

The first month was great the second made me rethink taking vitamins  she reminded of a  hamster in a wheel runnng without stop
just taking breif breaks  to hit the bottle  of Jack  Daniels
I miss working the pet store.

Leaving the house to  stagger to the bar  myself worn like a
a cheap motels matress.
Skeeter glowing like a neon sign if a neon sign were prone to random acts of violence.
Speaking sweet  nothing's to each other  like I love you sugar ,
did you hide the bullwhip ?  And hey wake up you drunk ******.

Her eye's  a work of true beauthy  that read  **** with me
and i'll knock your **** in the dirt   or light you on fire
ahh romance  it is grand and slightly dangerous and painful at times.

The night alive the drinks flowing  the waitress  a attractive  yet
soon to be mauled victem  of a five three spitfire.
The paper read of something i belive they call them numbers
dam you davinnci code.

Befor I could  down the wild turkey order four more and say in the name of Bono.
She sprang from her seat like a  miniture ninja leaping over the bar.
tackling the woman who had angred my mighty banshee.

the fight was epic and i did what any good red  bloodedand whiskey fueled pervert  would do I sat there and cheered on this cat fight.
get her honey it was a true sitght to be seen  hair being pulled
clothes being ripped off  okay i added that one.

And as a voice echoed over the crowd that said
hey who is that  hot crazy *****.
I turned  to the  man pointed saying  look its raining  
*****   and Adam Lambert  oddly enough he looked.

the sucker punch was fast hard and hurt like a son of
a *****  sorry but thats not just any hot insane horney carzy *****
thats my  teenage nymphomaniac  homicidle costume collecting halloween loving demon with a touch of sweetness wife.

The cops had arrived  but strangley enough Skeeter knew them all by
name.
Im starting to belive she might have a thing for tazers.
The questions flew around sir what caused this and why are you not wearing any pants.

She was in a rant so like any semi sober man  I decicded to set her straight  well  kinda.
And you!
I cant belive you take her number  the rage filling within her
building like a volcano  of pint sized sexiness mean chicks
are hot.

Well  honey I ment to tell ya mid flight  that was the bar tab.
Suprize.

And after i awoke from acoma  my hellcat in my hospital bed
I looked from a black eye saying skeeter  i love you more
with every day that does pass.
To which my teenage ******  replyed good.
God cause if ya didnt Gonzo id have to kick your drunken semi sane long winded  ***.
Dedicated to the real life Skeeter  who's probaly going to **** me
It's been nice knowing you all.
Im kidding I'll do what i always do when in danger run and scream like a girl.

Love ya Skeeter  
Always Gonzo
Larissa Nov 2013
Rose Tyler, Bad Wolf, blonde bombshell.
Through time with the Doctor she did propel.
She loved the Doctor and he loved her too.
If it's my last chance to say it,
Rose Tyler, I--

Jack Harkness, the flirt, the man of men.
He pops up at the Doctor now and again.
They met with a lie,
Now he can't die
Forever here now and then.

Martha Jones, the doctor, the woman that heals.
Her time in the TARDIS caused all kinds of feels.
She pointed a gun to save the Doctor's skin
Yet in the end, her and Mickey did win.
All kinds of fun and all kinds of sass.
Martha Jones, one badass.

Donna Noble, ah, how does one describe thee?
Married a creeper and set the Oods free.
Through the Daleks and Rose, it seemed to end the world
Until the Doctor's DNA and her's accidentally swirled.
Of all the companions, she was a supreme member
Most important woman in the universe,
Too bad she won't remember.

Of all the companions, no one remembers Ms. Astrid Peth.
Her one and only appearance ended in death.
She stowed away on the flying Titanic
With passengers, aliens, and angels that were satanic.
Astrid wanted to travel and see the stars.
Her death seemed to add to the Doctor's scars.
He wasn't able to bring her back in the flesh
For the Doctor was the cause of her final, last breath.

Finally we come to little Amelia Pond.
Waited twelve years for the Doctor's bond.
She sat on her suitcase, face raised to the stars
Thinking of Jupiter, Saturn, and Mars.
He came back when she was supposed to marry Rory
But she still snogged the Doctor, being predatory.
It was Amy and Rory Pond in the ends
Even when the stone angels did descend.
Some mainstream Whovians say Ms. Pond's overrated,
But after all, she was the girl who waited.

Melody Pond, also known as River Song
She was fair, cunning, and strong.
Amy's daughter, but looked years older.
Amy wouldn't believe her no matter what River told her.
River Song, a time lord herself.
But even her story went to the shelf.
She was put in jail for killing a good man.
But even then, with the Doctor she ran.
The Doctor and River, hands fastened tight.
She still didn't want to let go with all of her might.
Dr. Song and the Doctor were on different tracks in time.
Hopefully, she'll be back, witty, fierce, and sublime.

The mystery. All the loose ends come to Clara Oswald.
The latest companion to be installed.
She once was a woman, mind in a machine
But now she's in the flesh, cruising the scene.
Oswin Oswald was a governess and a barmaid
Until she came back, unashamed to be afraid.
Even though she is a mystery to be solved,
Here's to our angst, Ms. Oswin Oswald.

But one day all the companions will be gone
And the Doctor will be alone again.
He will think of all the lives he's withdrawn
Hoping for a lifelong friend.
Though his intelligence, sexiness, and brilliant mind
There are no other like him, he's the last of his kind.
The man who travels around kissing strangers;
The impossible doctor meeting some painters.
Many wonder how long he can cheat the clocks
But until then, he's just a madman with a box.
CONTAINS MANY SPOILERS
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or any of the characters affiliated with them.
judy smith Dec 2015
Leave it to 2015 to transform the slip dress into, well, something other than a slip dress. No longer was the slinky, curve-skimming frock the evening-only pinnacle of sensuality; instead, it found its footing as a functional layering piece. It was worn on top of T-shirts, under sweatshirts, and over pants. And it wasn’t just the runway that inspired the nouveau way of wearing the piece: Everyone from Orthodox Jewish women to Rihanna put their spin on it. Here, see the best ways the slip dress was worn in 2015—and the cues to take when you sport it post–New Year.

Try an Orthodox Line of Thought

Turns out it was a Brooklyn enclave who managed to make the sexiest trend of the year—the slip dress—the chicest. And no, it wasn’t Williamsburg hipsters. So how to master modest layering like the Orthodox? Try a men’s blazer over the silk number, adding sleeves, or extending the neckline.

When in Doubt: What Would Kate Moss Do?

Feeling cold this winter? Make like Moss and combine the best of two worlds: The cozy turtleneck and the body-clinging slip dress. The simple pairing is the peak of insouciance—while keeping you warm.

Grunge Goddesses Still Rock

With the addition of a stoner-style hoodie, the slip dress got a major dose of grunge-forward flair. On the Vetements Spring 2016 runway, a hunter green hoodie thrown over a lavender slip dress gave an instant too-cool-for-school effect, while Ursina Gysi turned heads in an orange lace–trimmed swath of silk and a blue oversize pullover on the street during Fashion Week.

Rihanna Put a Bad Gal Spin on Hers

First, she took the hoodie and slip dress trend and gave it a go on the street. Next, she threw on a pair of sky-high cuissardes to pair with a short, baby-pink number. Then Ri-Ri topped a shimmering bronze slip with a baseball hat! Whatever the move, the singer deserves major credit for giving the ’90s throwback a modern bite.

And About the ’90s . . .

The revamp of the ’90s on the runway also brought back memories of a very throwback way to wear the slip dress: Seen on Spring 2016 runways fromCourrèges to Emilio Pucci, the boudoir staple was layered over a long-sleeved shirt or a simple tee to counter the sexiness of the slip and cut the sweetness.

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-sydney
Martyn Thompson Aug 2011
There is a wondrous feeling of completeness
When immersed in the act of …
Cleaning a flute
The soft light radiantly refracting from
The slightly concave…
Keys

The shimmering of the shiny sleek skin
A perfect nickel finish…
It’s sexiness salute
A strangely seductive serpent stealing
My willpower; I submit to you…
With ease

The perfection of this harmonious union
As my trembling hands caress…
Your heavenly body
Gently working away until my eyes are
Illuminated by your brilliance…
Your gleaming sheen

Intoxicated, mesmerised by your lustre
The warm ambience brings out…
Your luminous beauty
Ready now for my lips to blow a refrain
A sweet tune is primed…
The flute is now clean

Let the melody begin…
Wendy Mar 2015
Walking down the short hallway to the restroom, Laura was definitely feeling the buzz. She even had that chemical burning lovely shades in her digestive tract, or at least, that's how it always felt when she got high. That **** burned right through her inhibitions and her exhaustion; it made her watchful and ******, any touch felt like lightning. A GOOD TIME kind of time comes to mind, where merely a pair of lips and teeth scraping against her skin could make her come......a drug that was so disgustingly ****** to her it would probably have ruined her for a sober life. Forever ******* and trying to find the heights she had once achieved even with the most incompetent lovers. It was truly a drug for a woman. Always the ones expected to make someone feel better than they are, constantly begged to lend validation to the worn and make them feel new again with your love and admiration. It absolutely disgusted her sometimes the things she had done, but you could never deny her the title of success in that arena. She had traversed a pile of trash and made them feel golden and important, even allowing a man to **** her soul until it couldn't love anymore. Lack of responding was forever to be her kryptonite....but here she lies, Laura, the fuckingest of the *******, and queen of the ******* she ****** back to life in her drugged state- the only time she had ever been able to stomach being a "modern" woman. Covertly sneaking the addicts and the losers love underneath the table....trying to make them rise up and redefine it all. But her army would never come, and the war would never begin- thinking they would be the only ones who would fight for her, the ones she had bore into full men, but oh was she wrong. And oh was she stuck for good.

Ever since she has felt a dissonance from a pleasure. But back to her present past we were talking about...she is walking down a hallway feeling that nice fuzzy synth feeling. The sexiness and the sway in her own hips is even electrifying her...turning her on....getting lost in the restroom between her own legs and also a straw up her own nose....CHOP CHOP CHOP...then the sweet SNIFF SNIFF SNIFF.....circling her reflection in the mirror after each hit trying to see how it changed her on the outside....she felt so alive for the first time after a life that seemed to have been filled with oppression prior to this dark crystals reawakening of her senses. But she began to see shadows in the night; shadows of the past, shadows leading to the monster's locked away in the recesses of her mind that were only allowed out sometimes. She felt lost in the dreaming of this toxicity of her inner haven...even her psyche had been taken over. All she longed to do was ****, smoke, please, and be incredibly beautiful and feel wanting/wanted....desire in the purest form no matter what it was about or what it was for....forever spinning around looking for what was not lost, but definitely for something in herself and others that was never quite enough. That's probably why she lost that one man, or the next....she could never fully finish because it was an ongoing walking, uncontrollable stimulation....always on the brink of ****** and always searching for it. Even after feeling it it didn't seem to quite satisfy..."I can't get No Satisfaction" comes to her ear in these moments...blinding her ****, spilling into her overly absorbed and enlightened prefrontal cortex. She thought she was such a genius...planning to make money and run away into this lifestyle and never re-emerge again. Oh but she was cunty and ****** up and made too many fall in love with her....and after the only one she truly loved betrayed her....told her and showed her that he could never be the lover he promised he would be in prison, well....she got spun for life and hasn't been fully untangled since....It's a drought season in the year of that love....she could bring about all the desire in that man, even make him love her....for who she really was not just the doped up junkhead she had become....but it would never be enough because his demons couldn't be satisfied with anything but a jail life full of structure. Her ***** lips couldn't seal him in tight enough, close enough to home to stick.....and so as he disappeared from her heart willingly....so did her sanity. Going truly mad over this sick and constantly incarcerated beautifully disgusting soul broke her. Wanting to love him better, to love him the way she wanted to be loved so bad.......and not getting it not even once. . . Travesty in her heart...sobriety spinning her out into dope again, and the ten mile walk of shame after she couldn't find him again when he ran from her insanity that had been induced....well....she almost died just trying to stay in love with the one person in all her dope days that made her feel loved and celebrated....not just ******, symmetrical, and ideal.....she never wanted to be ideal, she just wanted to be enough.
Riding along with her own self hate on the coaster of her life into all the wibbly wobbly bits of life that could never be explained away....only tears could seal them far enough for heart to be so far from touching them she didn't even want to go through the trouble anymore
Cartwright Feb 2010
If only for one night;
I wanna Love you and hold you tight in my arms where to there will be no harm.
Safe and Secure only to lure my heart into PEACE and no to Obscure.
Join me in Joy and Romance so that our Lives Enhance the Beauty of Us that is forever in Passions Site.
As we Entangle Ourselves into each other and become one more  and more each day as your beauty ans sexiness shine brighter than the sun itself  ;
The universe Signs a Smile and Blesses us with Essence of Loves Heart to Kindle JOY and Romance,
Sexiness and Satisfaction,
Lust and Love,
So we continue to show Our Love
Day by Day
Christopher Nathaniel Cartwright
Copyright © 1983-Present
Maggie Emmett Nov 2016
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may **** me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
From And Still I Rise by Maya Angelou. Copyright © 1978 by Maya Angelou.
Having seen the dreadful remarks made on Social Media about USA President's wife, Michelle Obama I think this poem is worth re-reading
Gabriel Jan 2014
Warmed sand from the hot day slides between her slider toes,
Her soft delicate ankles flex so tenderly with each step,
Smooth calves pull taut with petite strength, yet so frailly,
The falling sun dances on her hip and thigh seductively,

(A woman of complete ****** power, yet seemingly helpless,
Only as fragile as the tip of the golden dagger she bares,
Her greatest power is in your pleasures pleasingly fulfilled,
For once she has you clasped then her bidding can begin,)

Widening hips well versed in shifting her gently pooched belly,
A belly, so sensual, adored with melted elemental perfections,
Colorful beads to draws eyes to skin like petals of a newly bloomed rose,
A belly that when shaking releases all your heart's troubles and woes,

(When she loves, her warmth is ten times the sun on a cold night,
But if you were to oppose her, you are the prey to the panther's delight,
She will give you everything your heart could ever desire,
A kindness that burns inside her for her lover like a bellowed fire,)
  
Fluid, water like hands tell a story of enchantment as they slice through air,
Caressing a ***** so supple in form, a tear drop design of sexiness shown,
Gentle and smooth as her beasts gyrate with motion as her body moves like waves,
Her hands the constant agonist starting a seductive chain reaction through her body,

(A passionate heart awaiting a love so true, searching for her warrior poet,
She controls her world with her feminine wile but craves a life that is true,
A man that values and respects her intellect, equally as much as the view,
And look into her eyes to see the beautiful goddess that await him,)  

Long flowing black hair loved by the wind, teasing her curls as she spins,
The beauty of her face only second to Nefertiti, but her eyes that of a goddess,
Eyes reminiscent of a feline capturing the attention of the strongest man,
Emerald green, deep with passion like the ocean, and rival its beauty infinitely,

A dream that I see her in and long for her intimately......
JJ Hutton Nov 2010
is a governing *******.
is lamer than Carrot Top cracking ***** jokes.
has a secret blog called "Pro4Life4Guns4God".
mentions the sexiness of my beard every time we hang out.
spills coffee on his crotch every time we brew a batch.
paints his **** for sporting events.
won't drink alcohol.
***** himself daily to clear his head.
prays for forgiveness every day after ******* himself.
is a box in a cage.
is beige, nursing home wallpaper.
is a real barrier,
to really living.
Turtle Eyes Aug 2015
Black eyes
Lusting
After
Carnal
Kinkiness

Enjoying
Your
Electrifying
S­exiness
Marshall Gass Apr 2014
Banked up against a terraced mountainside
photogenic pristine rows
of blasting green
rows of manicured waterways
with two buffaloes treading ballet-like
between squelching mud and green shoots
the paddy fields stayed buoyant
all season through.

Come harvesting time
and thrashing the sunburied ripe
tendrils of husk and seed
along threshing traffic wheels
the husk sought divorce from
the long tongued long grained
wives -and parted ways.

Soon the pudding spent its silky smooth sexiness
on a plate of punchy aromatic costumes
that invaded the senses and palate
in sensual smoothness. Oh my!

Ricebowl pudding
of the worlds staple.

Author Notes
Gluttony beckons just now!
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Wendy Apr 2015
Walking down the short hallway to the restroom, Laura was definitely feeling the buzz. She even had that chemical burning lovely shades in her digestive tract, or at least, that's how it always felt when she got high. That **** burned right through her inhibitions and her exhaustion; it made her watchful and ******, any touch felt like lightning. A GOOD TIME kind of time comes to mind, where merely a pair of lips and teeth scraping against her skin could make her come......a drug that was so disgustingly ****** to her it would probably have ruined her for a sober life. Forever ******* and trying to find the heights she had once achieved even with the most incompetent lovers. It was truly a drug for a woman. Always the ones expected to make someone feel better than they are, constantly begged to lend validation to the worn and make them feel new again with your love and admiration. It absolutely disgusted her sometimes the things she had done, but you could never deny her the title of success in that arena. She had traversed a pile of trash and made them feel golden and important, even allowing a man to **** her soul until it couldn't love anymore. Lack of responding was forever to be her kryptonite....but here she lies, Laura, the fuckingest of the *******, and queen of the ******* she ****** back to life in her drugged state- the only time she had ever been able to stomach being a "modern" woman. Covertly sneaking the addicts and the losers love underneath the table....trying to make them rise up and redefine it all. But her army would never come, and the war would never begin- thinking they would be the only ones who would fight for her, the ones she had bore into full men, but oh was she wrong. And oh was she stuck for good.

Ever since she has felt a dissonance from a pleasure. But back to her present past we were talking about...she is walking down a hallway feeling that nice fuzzy synth feeling. The sexiness and the sway in her own hips is even electrifying her...turning her on....getting lost in the restroom between her own legs and also a straw up her own nose....CHOP CHOP CHOP...then the sweet SNIFF SNIFF SNIFF.....circling her reflection in the mirror after each hit trying to see how it changed her on the outside....she felt so alive for the first time after a life that seemed to have been filled with oppression prior to this dark crystals reawakening of her senses. But she began to see shadows in the night; shadows of the past, shadows leading to the monster's locked away in the recesses of her mind that were only allowed out sometimes. She felt lost in the dreaming of this toxicity of her inner haven...even her psyche had been taken over. All she longed to do was ****, smoke, please, and be incredibly beautiful and feel wanting/wanted....desire in the purest form no matter what it was about or what it was for....forever spinning around looking for what was not lost, but definitely for something in herself and others that was never quite enough. That's probably why she lost that one man, or the next....she could never fully finish because it was an ongoing walking, uncontrollable stimulation....always on the brink of ****** and always searching for it. Even after feeling it it didn't seem to quite satisfy..."I can't get No Satisfaction" comes to her ear in these moments...blinding her ****, spilling into her overly absorbed and enlightened prefrontal cortex. She thought she was such a genius...planning to make money and run away into this lifestyle and never re-emerge again. Oh but she was cunty and ****** up and made too many fall in love with her....and after the only one she truly loved betrayed her....told her and showed her that he could never be the lover he promised he would be in prison, well....she got spun for life and hasn't been fully untangled since....It's a drought season in the year of that love....she could bring about all the desire in that man, even make him love her....for who she really was not just the doped up junkhead she had become....but it would never be enough because his demons couldn't be satisfied with anything but a jail life full of structure. Her ***** lips couldn't seal him in tight enough, close enough to home to stick.....and so as he disappeared from her heart willingly....so did her sanity. Going truly mad over this sick and constantly incarcerated beautifully disgusting soul broke her. Wanting to love him better, to love him the way she wanted to be loved so bad.......and not getting it not even once. . . Travesty in her heart...sobriety spinning her out into dope again, and the ten mile walk of shame after she couldn't find him again when he ran from her insanity that had been induced....well....she almost died just trying to stay in love with the one person in all her dope days that made her feel loved and celebrated....not just ******, symmetrical, and ideal.....she never wanted to be ideal, she just wanted to be enough.
Jonny Angel Jan 2014
I saw lot's of gold men
strutting out in the desert,
spinning themselves
like drunken madmen
warped on internal-sin.
They fell at your feet
like arcade-magic,
the way you want it.

But you gave it away
to the whole team.
So sultry & wanton,
cravings, cravings, cravings,
screaming such sexiness,
scheming your selfish desires,
another everybody's girl,
saving nothing &
not much left to give.
Thanks BJ~You said it like it is & always was!
BEAUTY IS A ROSE
BEAUTY IS ******
AND SOMETIMES CAN'T BE CONTROLLED
BEAUTY IS OLD AND NEW
BEAUTY IS EVERYTHING I KNOW

(BABY!!!
LET ME COME TO YOU
LET ME FEEL YOU
LET ME KISS YOU
LET ME READ MY LETTERS
AND POETRY
I PROMISE YOU'LL WANNA HEAR THIS
(
BABY!!!
JUST  LET ME TELL YOU
THAT I'VE MISSED YOU SO MUCH
ONE MORE TIME
LET ME GRAB YOUR HAND
SO I CAN FEEL THE
RUSHING CRUISE CRUSH
(BABY!!!

BEAUTY IS LIFE
BEAUTY IS SUCCESSFUL
BEAUTY IS SECURED
BY WHAT IS NEXT
YOU HEAR THAT BEAUTIFUL TEMPO
STAY LAYING ON YOUR PILLOW
BEAUTY IS THE WORDS THAT COMES FROM YOUR MOUTH EVERY NIGHT (
BABY!!!
EVERYTHING IS ALRIGHT

AND YOU ALREADY KNOW THAT EVERYTHING IS FINE AND DANDY SO BEAUTIFUL NOTHING NEVER LEAVES OUR SIGHT

BEAUTY IS THE WORDS THE THAT I WRITE FOR YOU OF COURSE
BEAUTY IS THE SUN THAT SHINED IN OUR EYES

AND I CAN SEE IT ALL
BECAUSE MY LOVE FOR YOU IS SO ******* STRONG
AND YOU WILL SEE IT ALL IN DO TIME TOO
WHENEVER THE MOON ARRIVES TONIGHT

YOU'LL BE COUNTING STARS
AND I'LL BE THINKING
OF
YOU AND I , TRUE STORY
(BABY!!!
THE WHOLE WOLD WILL SCREAM OUR NAMES
BECAUSE BEAUTY IS INSANELY MAGNIFICENT
A COMPLETE BLESSING
A BEAUTIFUL TREASURY TREASURE
EVERYONE

BEAUTY IS TOUCHING
BEAUTY IS KISSING
BEAUTY IS SEXINESS
NOT SECONDARY
YOU JUST GOTTA LOVE IT

CAME HERE
(BABY!!!
LET ME TELL YOU
BEAUTY IS BRILLIANT
AND RISING UP WITH INGREDIENTS
BEAUTY IS BULIDING BRIGHT
AND FILLED WITH EVERYTHING NICE THAT'S PARADISE
BEAUTY (_BABY!!!
**** RIGHT
Mohit Kalwadia Jul 2012
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may **** me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
sherelle rodgers May 2015
The idea of **** .
****.
One letter away from something beautiful
privacy
who is willing to capture the idea of ****
the beauty  of ones body
being grasped with someones eyes
licking their lips
need
the only emotion comprehended
from all of this
and only because of sexiness.
The want
The emotion
The feeling
How its craved
each breath sending a shock
deep
The rush
The chill
quietly watching
oh how the mind runs free
how ****.
being silly
Myriah Mar 2015
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may **** me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise. By maya angelou
Anais Vionet Mar 2023
It’s the Thursday morning before valentine’s day. Lisa and I are scrambling to get out of our suite. We share an Organic Biochemistry class and we’re running a hot minute late. As we pulled on our shoes Lisa asked me, “Do you have fun Valentine's weekend plans?” The question, since I have a BF, contained a suggestion of impending sexiness. We grabbed our bags and were soon out of the dorm.

“I do NOT have fun.. WELL??.. well,” I said hesitating - was this the time to let my secret out?
“Well?” Lisa follows up excitedly.
We’re out in the quad now, an uncovered rectangle of grass and walkways. It’s 37° and cloudy. It’s going to drizzle all day. We maneuver around the slower movers, bookbags on our shoulders and coffees in hand.

“You’ve familiar with, umm, Twib?” I asked.
“Twib! I’VE heard of them,” Lisa, chuckles, “they do some singing and plucking of strings, I believe.”
Yeah, yeah. They’ve gone underground, and um, their crush is tomorrow night”
“Oh, Wow,” she said, somewhat shocked, “Twib has crush?”
“They have crush,” I confirm.
“How did I not know this?” Lisa asks the universe, “EVERYTHING has crush!” she laughs.
“Everything has crush this year,” I agreed.“

We get to the bus stop right as the shuttle arrives - it’s perfect timing - and we board.
“I think “Crush” is a really cute name, better than “Spring Fling, for a dance name,” Lisa said.
“Anyway,” I softly announce, leaning into her even though we’re close and sharing a seat, “I’ve got three invites, so I’m taking Peter, of course, and YOU,”
Lisa laughs, “OK”
“And,” I add suspensefully - this was the surprise - “YOUR secret crush,” I add grinning and bouncing with excitement.

Lisa freezes, turns pale and looks at me like I’m crazy. “What?” she says hoarsely.
“Tom,” I said hesitantly, “Peter invited Tom..”
Now Lisa has a wide-eyed look and her cheeks have turned a flamingo pink color.
“He doesn’t KNOW he’s your crush,” I add quickly, reassuringly, putting my free hand on hers.
That seems to calm her, “You didn’t SAY anything,” she asked, scrutinizing me for any sign of deception.
“No, I swear, I said, making the sacred “x” sign over my heart, “We’d never. It was just a fun, surprise idea.” Suddenly the shuttle seemed hot and uncomfortable, I took off my scarf.

We shared the last 10 minutes of the ride bickering. After we got off, we made our bickering way to class. As we settled in (we sit together) I offered,
“We can cancel, I can cancel, it was a stupid idea - I’m sorry.”

“No,” Lisa sighed, “I don’t always adjust well to surprises.. OK.. let’s do it!”
“What was all THAT (bickering) about then??” I asked.
“Oh, that was just fun,” she smiled, “I was making you sweat. Ok, What’s the theme? What are you wearing? Where’s it going to be held?” Lisa finally started asking critical questions.

“It’ll be at Luther (college) and the theme is biomes,” I said.
“Biomes?” Lisa asked.
“Biomes - like grasslands and tundra,” I explained.  
“Ohh, ok, sure” Lisa chuckled.
“And I got a dress from Princess Polly. Sorry Fast Fashion,” I joked.
“Hey, you know,” Lisa agreed, “When biomes call.”  
“You got it,” I nodded, “and I’m excited because I got a dress for you too!”
“For ME?” Lisa exclaimed, “aww.”  
“I know what you like,” I claimed.  “You do,” she admitted.
“It was a surprise and time was short, you’ll love it,” I declared, as the TA took the podium.
“It’ll be a go-hard night.” I whisper.

“You should all have a PSet and paper to hand in,” the TA announces, as class begins.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Scrutinize:  "to examine something in a critical way.

PSet = problem set (homework)
crush = a dance that you’re supposed to invite your crush to.
TA = teaching assistant (a graduate student)
Josh Morter Apr 2013
A glance across a crowded room
my eyes transfixed on another
From a distance our eyes meet for a moment then continue on there chartered course
But...upon my glancing return
Exudes a presence of wonder,
an aurora of sheer beauty,
an understated elegance
and sexiness a plenty.
That is a Woman!
Written on 20/03/13 by Josh Morter ©

Been an unfinished poem now for 3weeks or more now, just tweaked it and added the last line. Felt complete after that.
K Balachandran Dec 2011
her laughter was a gift
i felt always
a mix of fire,spice ,raw sexiness
and pure innocence.
Impulzez Aug 2013
I sat to write to better your countenance
to uplift your spirit for you were moody
However I found myself professing my impulses
confessing my feelings
Your flame is for the lucky bulky ones
yet I'm blessed with your burning fire
To feel your well tanned beautiful,
so soft looking skin in silky slide would be volcanic
Your lips are for purple satin love
that only flows from royal *******
Your tan is as Angels in the Sun
Even Angels woo you
Your hidden priceless treasure deep beneath
rouses upon the blouse undone by macho and sapphic
innate peculiarities, best known over a length of time
Your awesomeness leaves many a dummies
pondering on your wonders of nature that glows
beyond this world
Your sexiness sweetens the aura around you
creating the hot halo feeling that envelopes you
Your attraction is spell bound
i couldn't help but be addicted to you
Words from your lips hypnotize my feet and thinking
giving me a better feeling
just like seeing an Angel in the Sun that you are.
Harry Lamba Apr 2014
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may **** me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
Allison Neal Dec 2009
It was just a whisper of a touch,
That’s all that was needed for me to arrive at this beautiful confusion. . .
The kind that winds down a narrow road to the deepest part of your being and shakes you inside out.
Relentless in my pursuit now,
To taste you. . .
To live inside your mouth and lie inside your unharbored creativity even if it is just for a season.

The day to day gives way to nights spent waiting for you.
I conjure up excuses,
To invite you to tip toe in again softly,
To sit with you so close and warm,
An unmatched fleeting security,
An exhilarating free fall to my stomach
-Which  I crave

I ponder the most profitable path to gain access to your heart
The usual maps I've followed do not take hold with you. . .
To creep slowly like a cat on the prowl?
Guarded and wise?
To run open armed and embrace?
To not think of how it may end?
Like with you and me,
Lying naked on the floor, our bodies sweaty and tangled?
Your eyes searching for the door?

No you are a different breed.
A roller coaster ride of yes and no.
A  delicious collection of untamed sexiness and unattached heart.
The challenge of the unattainable.
And I,  lusting after your game,
Will learn you.
And possess you.
Until my hunger,
Is only quelled by your matched
Desire
Dreams of Sepia Oct 2015
In the "Warwick Arms".


There's a girl wearing fake fur

of yesteryear's youth, weighing

out sexiness in the number

of beers she can afford.

How much oblivion

an unimaginative mind can take

is equal to the power of

a beached whale

drawing it's last breath.

The Russian wipes his moustache

turns around & smirks

that she's somewhat

under-dressed for the long winter.



Going to Japan.



Pink rain:

I could walk through it,

sweet-wrapped.

And the rice-blank  past

would be ample weight in my hand.

Like that of roses, remembered.

In a Murakami bar,

octopi would reach out

& dangle questions.

As a thousand pair of eyes

ask me to give the lesson

no-one ever taught me.

That they alone know.

That only pink rain understands.
' The Warwick Arms' is a pub near me....the poem is a sketch of the time a Russian friend of ours came to stay with us for a few days & how we went there for a drink..

by 'Pink rain' in the second poem I mean Cherry Blossom, for which Japan is famous...& by Murakami  bar I guess I was thinking of Haruki Murakami, one of Japan's most famous novelists...
These are old poems from way back, written about four years ago...I never got to Japan & don't know if I'll ever go there now but who cares, at least I have a poem about it....
Muyiwa Williams Aug 2016
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom? 'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may **** me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame
I riseup from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise
by Maya Angelou
Benji James Apr 2018
I need another taste of your kiss
From your soft red coloured lips
I need another touch
Of your silky smooth skin
I feel your so tight 

Rocking my heart right

Yeah you’re making me feel like

Your body is talking to me

Yeah your rubbing me the right way

Are you down to play?

Cuz I wanna do ***** things 

with you babe.

Oh Lauren, you turn me on (girl)
You know that you do
Lauren, you got it going on (girl)
I can see that you do

Oh Lauren, I see what you got
Yeah you know what I want
Every inch of you
You know that I do
I want to give it to you
(You want it, I got it)
I want to give it to you
(You want it, I got it)
I want to give it to you

It seems to me
That she seems to be
Teasing me sexually
Yeah she's explicit
In the things that she'll exhibit
It's exquisite,
her cheeky smile
her bright blue eyes
Seem to get to me every single time

Oh Lauren, you turn me on (girl)
You know that you do
Lauren, you got it going on (girl)
I can see that you do

Oh Lauren, I see what you got
Yeah you know what I want
Every inch of you
You know that I do
I want to give it to you
(You want it, I got it)
I want to give it to you
(You want it, I got it)
I want to give it to you

Yeah I'm impressed
by her sexiness
But I'm working out
How to get her out of that dress
then into the bed
She knows I want her ***
Gonna get her wet
Gonna make her sweat
Till we're both out of breath
Fall asleep in the bed
With her head on my chest.

Oh Lauren, you turn me on (girl)
You know that you do
Lauren, you got it going on (girl)
I can see that you do

Oh Lauren, I see what you got
Yeah you know what I want
Every inch of you
You know that I do
I want to give it to you
(You want it, I got it)
I want to give it to you
(You want it, I got it)
I want to give it to you

©2018 Written By Benji James
After seeing a beautiful Lauren at my work tonight, I just had to post this...
Meg B Dec 2014
It was a Saturday night somewhere where'bouts
December the 10th of 2012;
okay, fine, I can't recall the exact date, but that's not
the point
of this;
it's so much less bout the whens and whys and so much more
bout the whats, the what the **** it was.
And it was so good.
It was just a December night
in my windowless bedroom,
and I know it was a Saturday
for sure
because Daddy was picking me
up
at 9 o'clock on the ******* dot
because that Sunday was game day,
and we needed to get to Indy in time
to swallow down some Medium Rare burgers
before kickoff.
Anyway, so yeah,
Saturday night in my cave of a bedroom,
the only light that broke the darkness's
arrogant foreground
was the iridescent glow of the four
lavender and ocean scented candles I had placed
on the shelf by my desk,
seemingly casual enough,
but nothing I ever do is actually casual,
and it never was casual with you,
as much as I may have pretended.
It was all calculated, all culminated, all animated and anticipated,
*******, yeah, I laid out the whole set up
with the candles and the music and the glow,
like a perfectly **** setting.
But it turned out after it all that it wasn't that
sexiness I thought I wanted
that hit me so hard in the gut.
It was us, sitting there on my bed
side-by-side,
bodies close enough that we were almost touching,
like I could feel the body heat from your
perfectly built arms,
but I didn't actually feel the silkiness
that was your caramel skin
against my ivory.
Nope. No touching, for once
it really wasn't about that,
not even in the slightest.
We just sat and gabbed and laughed and
cried and squealed and
joked and concluded and pondered
and on and on
and
on
it went,
our bodies every so often readjusting
their positions on my white comforter with the black
flowers,
and I really just knew you in those moments
and you I
and it was like there was no clock
no time
no morning early rising committed plans
to the outside world,
because that realm ceased to exist as
you laughed in baritone
and told me funny stories about football and your friends
and then tragedies
about a mom that never loved you right
and a dad you never knew except for
the drugs and
his lack of
presence.
And there I went telling
you about when I got kicked off the team
and the one time
I got beat up
and other secrets I never knew I would
tell anyone and somehow
on it went as we were spiraling into
the abyss full of
everything we have ever needed, wanted, desired,
fears no longer fearful
and hurt set loose;
somehow I frantically reached for my phone
realizing that we just
made an entire night of conversating
and falling into something
that could be that word I won't
use because I ain't entirely sure,
but ****, my Dad was 20 minutes away,
you couldn't stay,
and I think I just
yeah,
I'll say it,
cuz I really think that night
I fell
in love.
CH Gorrie Sep 2012
You went to him because you’d never been
loved the way you deserved.
You’re neglected
time and time again. Childhood was stolen
somewhere between “It’s a girl!” and heaven.
I know you think you try.
You’re dejected.
In the shade of the damp one a.m. din
his tongue opens you like children do
Christmas gifts.

You went to him because you’d never had
so much attention from older guys.
So much attention, stained with the dyes
of lust. Is it that the ******* grains
staggered your mother’s ability to
care for you?
You hide beneath an eating disorder.
All the shame spills out
when you’ve got a finger deep in the esophagus’ veins.

You went to him because you’d never seen
a truly sweet smile.
Not that his gleans
away the pain inside you, but that
you’ve never really felt real sweetness.
Every time, when you seem to bat
your lashes,
I know you’re fighting back thick tears;
it’s not an exhibition of sexiness.

You went to him because you’d surely been
afraid of my honest feelings for you.
I’m sorry if the honest love I’d offered was scary,
but I’m not akin
to casual flings. That love was so true,
and ran so **** deep,
I’m sure I’d almost have drowned,
if your deceit hadn’t pushed that bright-blue
river so deep underground.
Wuji Sep 2011
You
You are,
Beyond the boundaries,
Of beauty.

You have,
Surpassed the sanctions,
Of sexiness.

You are,
Past the present idea,
Of perfection.

There is only one thing,
That you may not always be,
And that thing is being belonged by me.

So stay with me,
For I love you and you love me,
I want you to be apart of my,
Family.
1142011<3
chukwudi udoka Jul 2018
It's so unconventional how you strike a hollow part in my heart
No it's not a love a poem, I think that would be a cliché.
It's just a guy who meets a girl who writes about a girl who sparks stranger attractions.
I met a good girl doing bad things.  
She's a ***** in the night, yet an artist in the morning.
Probably painting away all the ****** feelings from last night.
She's like a wolf, she turns into a monster at midnight
Except his sexiness is the full moon
The trigger that transforms the good girl to bad.
May I talk to you madam?
Her eyes dazed at me for a second
She looks right away, turns to another guy .
He's abs and cute face are his weapon
They exchange a smile that couldn't be manufactured in heaven.
He approaches her and they hit it off instantly.
And in minutes they leave the bar together .
She wakes up in the morning smiling, “what a night!”
Her face changes, he left without saying a word
She's into tears again, this time more painful.
She pours her heart into the canvas,
Her heart filled with dark feelings.
Those feelings guide her hands holding the brushes.
She paints a **** man, except she makes him heartless, and gives him horns on the canvas.

Stanza 2

He's the devil that stole my heart
He's Angelic voice couldn't be resistible
His cute face and dimples we're just too loveable.
I think I know who he is
Do you? He is Lucifer.
He turned me into a monster in the night
And left me with my canvas and brushes.
I stay far admiring every edge and turns she makes while painting.
Her attention to details is splendid.
I wish I could be there to clean her tears while she was painting.
At 6pm she wipes her tears, she dresses into that short skirt, puts on makeup.
She dresses seductively and places her breast firmly.
Oh, she's ready for the night.
She's ready to get heartbroken again.
She's a good one, only till 6 pm.
The  part two would be available in my anthology beautiful chaos. To read a free preview of it , click the following link : http://ge.tt/6QCKrYq2
Follow my instagram poetry page : chukspoetry
judy smith Jun 2015
When word spread in the Hearst Tower that Carolina Herrera would be pulling up a chair to chat with Elle’s Robbie Myers for a Masterclass Q&A;, the speed of the RSVPs rivaled those of Barbra Streisand.

In less than an hour, Herrera regaled the crowd with her telling insights and signature élan, detailing some of the highlights of her career and deconstructing the current state of fashion with her wit.

First things first, Herrera: whose own personal style is practically synonymous with elegance, said of that trait, “Elegance is not only what you’re wearing but it is the way you are wearing it. It’s the way you choose what to wear for your style, your personality, the way you live. It doesn’t have anything to do with beauty or money….It’s what you project — your taste in books, houses, paintings, the way you move, the way you talk.”

When Herrera decided to do what she now does, she turned to her “great friend” Halston, whose initial reaction was, “‘What have you been drinking? Are you mad?'” she said. But his trepidation was only due to how demanding the industry is, Herrera added. “You have to be passionate,” she said.

Diana Vreeland, a friend of Herrera’s husband Reinaldo‘s family, was her mentor — “a very, very interesting woman, intelligent, very for-the-moment,” she said. But her initial plan to design fabrics was not well-received by Vreeland. “She said to me, ‘Well that is the most boring thing that you are telling me. Why don’t you do a fashion collection for women.’ She gave me the idea,” Herrera said.

In business for more than three decades, Herrera said her company’s DNA remains rooted in sophistication, elegance and timelessness. “I want women to look like real women, I do not want them to look like clowns because of what’s in fashion. I like fashion to be for now and for the future. You cannot only be for the past…like everybody in life — painters, musicians — you have to evolve. You have to live in the times that we live in.”

With two of her four daughters involved with the business, Herrera said, “Of course, we have little problems — tiny, tiny — but they always end up doing what they have to do and they always end up doing what I say they have to do.”

Herrera is very much all about today’s social media with 500,000 Instagram followers and 1 million Facebook fans. “You have to listen to the likes, dislikes and whatever they say — that’s the excitement of social media. But if you start reading all the messages, you will not have a life. It’s impossible to read all of them.”

Here, a few of Herrera’s other observations:

• “I didn’t live at Studio 54 and I don’t wear the white shirt every day.”

• “It’s very important to possess in your house a full-length mirror.”

• “Bob Mackie did the naked look years ago for Cher. There was one — now there are many.”

• “There should be a little mystery with women. They have confused sexiness with femininity. They think to be **** you have to wear a dress that is four sizes smaller than you, and also show everything you possess.”

• “You go to the opera and you see a sea of sneakers. It’s not like before when things were in a certain way, and everyone pretty much did the same. There are not anymore rules in fashion. Everything is accepted. You have to be strong. You have to be you.”

• “Mrs. Obama has her own style and she knows exactly what she wants to wear.”

• “Perfume is the invisible accessory that a woman is wearing. It is very strong for your memories.”

• “Stylists are getting more famous than the people they dress.”Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/evening-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses
Marisia Delafuga Mar 2015
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may **** me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
Pretty girl,
You are not a Barbie.
You are not a bleach blonde plastic object to be dressed up and toyed with.
Pretty girl,
You are not a balloon.
You are not meant to be filled up and emptied or popped.
Pretty girl,
You are not scratch card.
You are not meant to be scratched open and apart
People looking for answers and joy within you.
Pretty Girl,
You are a human being.
You are meant to be flawed and scarred and to watch movies on a Saturday night alone.
Your body is meant to be a temple
It is not meant to be judged for its sexiness by
Teenaged boys who have no idea what the world is made out of.
A size 16 and a double zero have the same claim to happiness
Without stepping outside their house and feeling like there is no place for them there.
Pretty girl,
You are a pretty girl.
And there is pride in that.
Your beauty is contagious
and I’m allergic to it.
Your presence makes my eyes water
and heart race faster.
Almost as fast as
the wind racing
in the eye of a hurricane.
My throat swells up
to a point where
I can barely speak.
My head starts spinning
clockwise and counterclockwise.
Simultaneously.
I’m barely aware
of my surroundings.
The sound of your voice
splits the tiny hairs
of my earlobe.
Accented with a sexiness
I could listen to
all day long,
intently and uninterrupted.
Even after I wipe the water
from the bottom lids
of my eyes
I still find your beauty
difficult to look at for too long.
Like it can only be taken
in small dosages,
otherwise the effect is too strong.
Allergies are unpleasant
to deal with,
but the reaction I draw
from your contagion
is worth the side effects.
She captured me in her sexiness with her gravitational pull
Her gravitational pull tugs at my essences
The heat she emit would make Satan sweat
Her earth tone skin have men erupting like volcanoes
With a smile as bright as the sun that warms my heart you chase away the sorrow that clouds my life
With skin that rivals the marvels of the universe time itself stands still and take notice
With the moon for your crown and the earth for your throne you give a whole new meaning to the title Ms. Universe.

Written by Keith Edward Baucum

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