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Tommy Randell Apr 2017
come blow my brains out
with your body of a gun
frazzle my eyes
with your smile of a sun

crush my bones
to splinters and shards
teach me mercy
is only for *******

let your kisses be fire
your breath a disease
bring your apocalypse
down on me please

sext me the text
the call to arms
skin me alive
with the blades in your palms

I don't want it cosy
all hearts and flowers
rain down on me
like a meteor shower

and the knife of your tongue
and the knife of your tongue
pressed to my flesh
like the touch of the sun

let it brand me as yours
burn me deep so it shows
I'm the brunt of your love
as everyone knows

through the 50 shades
of your tendencies
I am the prey
and you are the need

a willing accomplice
to mutual destruction
where passion results
in total eruption

it is not perverted
to want love this way
you know it and I know it
it's 50 clichés

in public poetry
on private sheets
it's what happens to normal
when preverts meet!
A satire, of course, on the whole 50 Shades phenomenon - I was going to call it 50 Shades of Clichés but choices are choices.

'Preverts' ? ... yes, that's right. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ud9zBKJJQe4  Hahahaaa
Traumeria Apr 2016
Colored emotions
Give life to blank outlined souls
Tint or hue or shade.
Haiku
Shofi Ahmed Oct 2018
Bloomed upon a star!
The setting sun sliding far
into the twilight pool
captured the picture!

Eye on the bumblebee!
That was first to bask in the sun
thinking that it dove to the length
into the shades of the midday rose.
There it's silhouette gets caught
is half-lit on the bank
of the milky way brook.

Shades of blue put
in the mix an inky shadow.
Oh, what’s in an unseen hue?
The sprawling black night puts
a veil on the day on every eyeball.  
Guess what it’s anyone's guess!
Even the leading light of the day
the sun shuffles an acre of the night
blindfolded down the full moon!
Nobody Feb 2018
I’m wearing these shades, to hide my face.
Since you’re all staring so hard;
watching me just in case,
maybe I’ll slip up,
or reveal a hidden mistake.
Hanging onto my every word
“What does that mean?”
“How can we be sure?”
I'm not your t.v show,
don’t put me on your pedestal.
I’m not your savior,
I can’t heal your soul.
I never asked for this,
so go turn your head;
Quit looking at my mess,
or waiting for what I say next.
And go save yourself,
because I can’t help.
JS Carie Nov 2018
Home and contentment are synonymous
The desire to reach,
while innate or evident
quiet or curious
keeps a continuum over discrepant cultures, the world over
An opulence of love and warmth
Having one ingredient can make fertile the other
One without the match, make an ordinary or secondary batch
Making one rich with joy, their other can be broke and remote
seeking satisfaction

Home is not a location
or bricks of residence
But a written word in deep established sentiment
An atmosphere cloaked in the unfalter
The taking of arms to conclude their hold
developed in elements of the affectionate
No disaster, constructed or natural
could alter

As I am now,
locked in the shadow of shades lost
surrendering independent power in a momentary yield,
On hands and knees, bloodshot and in need of a shield...
In need of my one...
the imperative relevance of feeling her
That selfish influential significance that creates safe harbor at journeys end
Generated by the glow of resolve
in the home of her arms contentment
Shofi Ahmed Oct 2018
Painting shades of blue
the tinted clouds
over the rainbow
jumped away.

Now it's a diving black swan
somewhere down the all
clear lapis lazuli blue sky.

Only one is left behind
wish I was with my butterfly!
Jack Aug 2018
Sad like blue,
But many shades of cool.
All I see is red,
Fire inside my head.
Luminescent like white,
Yet boring but bold.
Divergent in black,
Enthralling in the darkness.
I challenge the contrast.
lets take a chance and find harmony in our equations
shades of perspiration or passionate vacations
in lands of milk and honey we remain fixated on our screens
as these television dreams exaggerate our neediness
your pleasure had abated so instead you masticated the equator
can equestrian women really be blamed for these strange situations
its simple really if you let yourself adapt to the fluctuations
you can read a good book to change your outlook
or once in a blue moon you could attempt to exercise
your mind through meditation
once in awhile you could even stand up to change the station
if our capacity for feeling is unlimited really
with a bandwidth of infinity
than i wonder if its even necessary
that we keep pretending that our needs are so **** shallow
Cné Oct 2017
The surf provides lullabies
as ocean echoes roll.
Too soon, the sunlight glitters
as the dawn turns gray to gold.

I wake and I rub my eyes
beside the sandy beach
My love beside me, languid lips
within an easy reach.

I whisper, sweet good mornings
as your dreams I brush away.
You stretch and yawn, responding to
requests to "come and play".

Lingered memories caress,
of last night's rising moon
with silver waves and ripples,
beyond the dark lagoon.

In shades of colors that mix and smudge
you take your time, no rush
My ******* tingle, at the thought
upon my skin, spreads flush.

In reverie, flutters reminisce,
your wanton body on mine.
Whispered moans in my ear, you ******,
"I'm yours", I hear on rewind.
When last night's... turns into this morning's
ryn Apr 2015
This is me...*          
Seeking refuge          
under a tree,          
As the wind released          
it's pensive sigh.          
Leaves sapped dry          
were then set free.          
Shades of yellow          
took to the air in an          
attempt to fly.          

This is me...
Peering through
jaundiced eyes.
Laying still
in a torrent of
ochre.
As leaves fall
from lowered skies,
Drenching
and
submerging
me in a sea of
scattered amber.

This is me...          
Captivated by this          
spectacular phenom.         
Flavescent dance          
governed by          
wind and gravity.         
This is the dream...          
Too long held for ransom          
By the relentless          
grasp of reality.         

This is me...
Awaiting such time to
arise and run.
In my heap,
my safe haven,
my fortress of yellow.
Till the inevitable set of
the *orange
sun
Only then...
myself to the moon
I would again
show.
patty m Jul 2018
Beyond the reef
                     in crackling amber
the sun rises above the earth,
                     kissing river beds strewn with lovers

Passed mouth to mouth they whisper innuendo
the possibility of  living *******.
Bobbing bodies mimic boats on waves
and soon delirium penetrates a new country.

Heat and fire flare in bandied breeze
                          igniting insatiable shadow;
Pure and venial, the air incarnate
excites the ocean and ****** sing.

The quivering above ground
slithers silkily spilling watercolor rhapsody,
                         in a gush of white a fertile tsunami
reeks reckless abandon.   Once by moonlight,
they rubbed sleep from eyes, hugging hurt
as they clamored high in ghostly pallor.
Some leading the dance, hungered for knowledge,
others played shadowy roles.
Yet wafting still, comes the foreign fragrance,
fragments of spirituality,  a longing to touch,
as abundance rolls in shorelines green.
                         Offered mercies, fragile as wings,
shades of truth cascading like water, breathless
in sensual splash;
                       how tremulous
                       the image of truth,
                       the threshold of tomorrow.
Jewel Jan 9
How did I come to know you this way
I couldnt fathom what I was in for
I hope you're happy now you're mine like never before
You crashed into my world so I'm gonna crash into yours
It seemed like only yesterday I was just a little girl
Remember how use to dream and I still do
Dreams were where I first met you
I thought you would disappear as I grew
But that remains one sad goodbye I never had to use
Such is destiny such is to follow
Look at us we must've been shot by Cupid's arrow

Some nights my imagination runs  beyond wild
Sometimes l cant help letting go of my mind
I kiss the pen as I fantasize
Ready to make your mouth open in delight
I'm gonna keep you on your feet
When I'm happy I'm gonna have you dancing to my beat
When I'm angry I'll pierce you with misery so hard you'll bleed
When I'm hurt a river is all your eyes will see
When I'm in love I'll whisper words soft and sweet
When I feel passion you'll have to fan off the heat
I promise you a taste of everything coursing through me
I'm starving to create like thee almighty
Don't ponder or waste precious tears of sweat
Trust me I'll paint it so you won't forget
The many shades of this poet
I welcome feedback guys!
A crown of oak leaves
Lopsided, adores her
Earnestness in her eyes
Sparkly, binds me
Torch of her wand
Weeds my conscience
I linger, knuckle
As she evaporates
With a fierce chuckle..
There is something magnetic about her..
Shades of red

In shades of red
The poppies bloom.
Acre upon acre
Hundred upon hundred,
Thousand upon thousand,
Million upon million,
Their defiant petals
Rouse in our souls
Remembrance.

We cannot imagine
The mud, the blood,
The lice, the pain,
The loyalty, the pride,
The courage, the fear,
Every shade of human feeling,
Together in ****,
Brotherhood.
For King and Country.

Falling in a moment,
Or suffering for ever,
John, William, Thomas,
Oliver, Michael, David,
James, Edward, Max -
Fathers, sons, husbands
A generation cut down
Never to return.

In shades of red
The poppies bloom.
Remembered still.
In memory of my grandfather, killed at Ypres.
Luca C Oct 2018
I can write you all lines about all the sadnesses, about how it feels,
when the girl you love mocks you,
or how it feels when your father doesnt accept you for who you are, and criticises everything you do,
or how it feels when you are alone and no one understands that it is the kind of alone that makes itself known, the kind that shows itself on your wrists.
Or how it feels when you fall in love with a girl and she tells you she does not return it, when she tells you she never will.
Or how it feels when you try so hard to do the right things and make everyone happy, and it backfires.
Or how it feels when you walk alone, at night through the rain that should be snow, on the edge of a steep hill where at the botton lays a bay or a lake, and you want to jump, even though your best friend has begged you not to go there, not to go there because she knows what you think.
I can even tell you how it feels, the kind of sadness that comes from happiness. That it will one day slip through your fingers so you turn your back on it now, so it will hurt you less. I can write you lines, but im not saying you will understand them.
Lazhar Bouazzi Jul 2018
Writing is
the frozen music
of an ellipsis -
a silent song
of a lonesome poet
who sings in the dark
between howling winds
crossing swords
in the white shades
of unseen things -

a winter on the pole
on whose  obverse side
there's Rio,
and mirth,
and dancing,
and the sun's critique
of hegemony.

© LazharBouazzi
Am I having one of those days,
where I want to leave everything
and everyone?
Where I want to go into a daze,
and watch my dreams all come?

No, it's not 'Just one of those days'
It's not even a phase.
I'm extremely unsatisfied and bored,
and my life feels more like a chore.

So i cry, and sigh,
and get out my frustration.
While claiming I'm okay, I lie,
because no one has time
for that curruption.

So i try to let these three years go by, as quickly as I can:
while I'm still being controlled
and watched,
as independent as I am?

I long for those three years to fly,
so my life can be ran, by only I.
I'll have my own lovely home,
with a cosy fire,
and everything made of stone.

There won't be much company in need, apart from all of my books, candles and reckless sprees.
My house will be filled with glowing golden lights,
and expensive furnishings,
of all shades of white.

I'll be looking out of my balcony,
with my blankets wrapped around me,
as I listen to the rain pour and slide,
with a pen and paper at my side.

With my dog at my feet,
my eyes on the sky,
and my music playing lightly,
I'll always be on a high.

I know that's what my future holds,
as I won't settle for anything less,
I won't have lived until I live that image,
and until then I'll try my best.
This is truly where I hope to be, and these are only a pinch of ideas, out of a whole jar full of them.
Eberhardt May 2016
Moths are swatted
butterflies kissed
Pollution in fog
but beauty in mist
Shades of skin
the lighter adored
Loveliest lauded
the average ignored
Wilting flowers
tossed and snubbed
Only the beautiful
are cherished and
loved
ryn Nov 2014
The gentle reaches of the late afternoon sun
I'd bathe in this light abundant reverie
Swaying breeze... Caressing the web we've spun
In the warmth of this amber coloured spree...

Shades of gold, stretch beyond observable measure
My vision could only take me so far
Shining through between the green and azure
As if the window of heaven left slightly ajar.

Swathed in the glow... Laying on a bed of green
Eyes closed... Under the blue that spanned forever
Feast for my senses thus honed keen
Relishing the lingering touches of her radiating amber.

She's finally dipping, taking all of her light...
She'll sink behind the horizon, descending gracefully
I'd still remember all through my night
That amber...
                   *Amber is the colour of her energy.
Inspired by 311's Amber
Shofi Ahmed Apr 2017
At times I heard the songs of the giants
who opted to sing for a glass of wine!

Like Omar Khayyam would sing to the grove of vine,
while singing their lullabies they wouldn’t mind,
defying the bloomer stars in the moonlights
gladly treading on the black alleys of the night.
Didn't they budge, didn't they bend to pick up  
a potion of the sea, billowing in the dark?
But they opted out, just for a glass of wine!

To paint a glimpse of that gorgeous Saqi
till now they shun, lending the sun a paintbrush,
‘cause "if only it was colourful enough,” yet the sun
paints the enduring shades of the blue yonder.
But they turned around—just for a glass of wine!

The moon hanging low over the ocean took a pause.
The earth weighed down so deep is brimful!
Every sunrise paints new, loves to shine on once more
That delved-deep earth vintage taste, cooled in age-old,  
now close by the hands breathe in, full of warm south.
Yet they opted out—just for a glass of wine!

Even the time is speechless, ask me not but why.
Still keeps an ear bent on the wall of the leaning sky.  
Nor those who pop out with an inside scoop are ever drunk.
Nor they leak out, it’s a sea off the sea or Abe-Hayath.
It ain’t that small, it is the deathless spring of elixir!
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