"simmer" poems
Fold me
into
your blanket
like sheets
your soothing flesh
cooling my heat
sheathing my rod
into your mesh
we mesh
our flesh meets
gates pressed
firmly against me
like raw meats
we simmer from the heat
our hearts beating
like a drum beat
we're set
Apr 1, 2017
Apr 1, 2017 at 8:52 PM UTC
I lay under the sheets,
Undressed and yearning,
Famished and waiting,
For a taste of ambrosia.
Knock knock knock!
Come now and come in,
Embrace your desire,
And ravish my senses.
Don’t tease me,
I am at my peak,
Mortally enraptured,
By my physical form.
Come lay beside me,
Put your hands on me,
Take me whole,
I surrender in flesh.
Caress my *******
Moisten my urges down,
Hold me tight,
And feel me now.
Hold me down now,
Watch me sizzle,
With fierce intensity,
Burn my passion out.
I need your body,
When mine takes over,
Come in and take it all,
Out ; when I simmer down.
Come again when I desire,
Hear my carnal call,
I want you in me,
A taste of ecstasy.
I lay here now,
Bare on the bed,
Ceased by desire,
Free me now.
Restless feet bother,
Kiss them and in between,
Soften the bridges,
So you may pass.
Forward and backward,
All leads to ecstasy,
Touch me whole,
Touch me now .
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 10:20 PM UTC
I want to take your attention
and send in a direction
that takes you away
and changes you mindset
for the rest of the day
the thoughts alone
leaving you in disarray
getting you hot
your ***** simmer
the longer the thoughts saute
looking at the clock
as the seconds slowly tick away
imagining my fingers
as they slowly strip away
the folds of your clothes
right down to your lingerie
slowly I impose, as I take the long way
watching you implode, got me thinking you want to play
fingers linger up your thighs as they park valet
triggers trigger your insides, and your body will obey
these thoughts I portray, in a portrait way
got your body speaking languages, how ever they may convey
I read every single word elaborately; until you are my favorite essay
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 3:00 PM UTC
Snip
Cut
Bang
Simmer
I want a transit, a travel against my skin, that keeps going until I command it to stop.
My mouth begged for light, to feel warmth on my face
Heat oven to 450
You laughed and tossed me, a rag, away from the mahogany scent of your chest to the cold, hard floor that I am stuck to.
I miss you
I try to imagine you so that I can delude myself into continuing, but my mind strangely has already forgotten you.
I cannot remember your eyes, or even your favorite color anymore.
Some wish for that type of amnesia, but I am solemn.
I wanted a piece of you to carry with me always.
Cook for fifteen minutes or until dark
I hear my other side in my head; She is the evil within me.
I am brunbrunette, she is red.
I wear flats--her long legs are attracted to heels.
She smiles and with a curvy, smooth voice, much like a fiery dame from 1920:
"He has a piece of you though; you gave him your whole heart, and he only took a bite! That's alright, you don't need him or anything like him! You are a woman.... "
I drown her out with recipes,
4 cups of music and 1 cup chardonnay
(okay maybe MORE than one)--
therapy that I have made many appointments for.
Adding bits and pieces of me that I share, and some I don't
One thing I know, if a new one comes along, he is going to have to be patient,
I learned my lesson from burning out on the first batch
Take out--let cool
Don't eat all at once--savor.
Enjoy a slice at a time.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 11:35 PM UTC
¿ ¿ ¿
¿ ¿ ¿
¿ ¿ ¿
¿. ¿ ¿. ¿
¿ ¿ ¿
a cup of poetic tea
now becomes ready
when emotions simmer
on a flame dimmer @
with subtle swirls @
twirls and whirls @
added with words @
the aroma spreads @
strained out the waste @
the perfect taste
and here it's ready
the poetry ...the tea!
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 9:03 PM UTC
I'd like to introduce myself to you
One letter, one syllable, one word at a time
I would like to take things slow with you
Play get to know with you
Like I've never been allowed to do before
I want to capture those butterflies
And release them into skies of us
Me and that one
My Mr. Right that has paid your attention in full
That can simmer in the quite between our glances
He would never waste our time on second chances
Because we are what time well spent is
I would like to introduce myself to you
Spell me out with big doe eyes
That only you can read into
That only you would take the years to understand
And looking back
You see me for who I am
Unadorned by outside exteriors
I never feel vulnerable with you
You cloak me in the reassurance that you are here
Here in each moment that I need you
I would like to introduce myself to you
Planting memories that we can sip on in our bad days
Locked in gazes that I don't care to escape
I can't wait to meet you, or reintroduce
I would like to introduce myself to you
Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 6:07 PM UTC
Narrowed visions of the limitless heights of hope
Dreams deferred not dashed or shattered like glass
Head held high to the sky
Feet always grounded never caught off guard
Hopeless
Dark clouds Dark Thoughts
Altered by substances poisoning the community
These hands Those hearts hardened by this cold existence
His hands Her thighs Their minds killing the hopes of the future
Savage
The stench of failure and poverty reeks throughout the streets
Hunger pains and dope fiends screams vibrate the streets like a sick beat
Cries of the children young and old scatter the air with grief and unbearable pain
A young man dead A young woman ***** harsh realities simmer in this mixing bowl of misery
Numb
Hopes Dreams fears ignored by the outside looking in
The mindset of a hustler taught to struggle and fight the hard way
A better life shown in the gleam of a child eye
Reality worsens with the smell of death
Ghetto Dreams
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
Because the thirst wouldn’t simmer; it ruptured cities into boils,
turned cultures into armies, an armageddon of cheeky stubborn Irish Catholics and thick veined Germans couldn’t imagine a world without their stout hearty headed pint.
Because white dry protestant angels thought crime existed in a vacuum, in a filthy saw-dusted saloon, the hub spawn of evil.
Because twice as many of those saloons were ******* by unlicensed blind pigs, not through free swinging doors on the streets, but in the domestic sphere; in the dark crept crevices of household sanctuaries.
Because bootlegging capitalist princes turned the industry into a stenchy liability with their home brewed distilled poisons. Alky cookers wrapped the commodity fetish and dubbed it moonshine.
Moonshine – spirits for the poor and blind.
Because this social reform was a moral reform lost in the oblivion of politics, lost in the timeliness of progressive spring-cleaning referenda’s.
Because the ragged, toothless class had to be scold, striped clean of their traditional barings,
because wisdom is everything and they’re spirits ran vilely wild.
Sep 26, 2010
Sep 26, 2010 at 6:57 AM UTC
.*England... no wolves... oh well... the next best "spirit animal"..? Bacardi! no wait... Whyte & Mackawy?! no... **** what could it be... and believe me, Maine **** cats share a disposition of curiosity with this feral creature... this Robin Hood... what animal is it? hmm...*
it was supposed to your generic,
bog-standard Saturday afternoon,
i was given the pleasure of
cooking dinner...
Xacuti chicken curry with
star anise & nutmeg
from the Goa region
of India and
a curry from Sri Lanka...
absolutely beauties...
evidently...
all that heating of the spices
on a pan and then blending
them in a coffee mill...
seriously spread like a forest fire...
not too long... well,
by the time i finished
all the prep for the second curry,
and was already letting it
simmer...
to my honest disbelief...
and this was mid afternoon,
about half six -
bright as ******* daylight...
who's this?
hello?
you like the smell i see?
god...
what a pristine healthy example
of the feral -
and the most beautiful eyes...
had to take a picture...
so i asked again?
does it really smell that good that
it has given you the kind
of cheek and audacity to risk
climbing out from your
safety prior to nightfall?
**** i heard before that
i am a good cook...
but you, dear fox -
have paid the biggest compliment,
ever.
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 6:01 PM UTC
Lay rest your flashing glaze of wishes
Down received for a moment
Breathy bow lifts to hold
and waver across few measures
Sienna and topaz
Sienna and topaz
Singe and simmer
Shine and glimmer against
All the thoughts born and dead
What makes you eager to rise
If it is not sensing gone away stories
or nursing the aches that lunge through anywhere else but here
While you replay and delay all creation
the blossoming goes unseen
She, the maiden is reigning
Une palais à remplir
Une palais à remplir
where she is her own queen
Her oceans made of no time channel open mouths
flooding its spill
She waded into The archer
Downed in his own vessel he mistook himself the pilot of
He, marooned in the surrender of damp and fertile places
where in Death he is still recovering
Soldiering and sullen
Soldiering and sullen
He is choking, and can not stop to see or savor the blossoms rising from his own till
Jan 5, 2022
Jan 5, 2022 at 9:03 PM UTC
so what do we do when all is left are figurines
gifted in the unholiest of manners
and the crusties in my eye when i awake
are no longer their
since sleep is a distant memory
and all the tides of highs and lows
simmer to a stagnant plateau
because days no longer carry weight
surmounting to popcorn on a string
--one just like the last--
suddenly a day
--popcorn with extra butter and just a pinch of salt--
comes and shakes the bland you into something recognizable
a sparkly-eyed realist with an unusually magnetic personality
drawn from absolutely nothing
but the reality that life goes on
and we just have to be aware of peoples polarity
s.q.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
The streets are clear, we're hydrophobic
Hoods propped by hats and socks pulled high;
The rain brings peace to the agoraphobic
Puddles form moats and clouds fill the sky.
Splash, droplets hit the window,
chauffeured by the gale outside.
Squint your eyes and flash back
boats tilt starboard, with the tide.
The captain shouts to the decks, paranoid
'Clear the decks and brace for impact'
Without turbulence we are disenfranchised
Boredom becomes us when we're boring.
Shake it off and stare at the dot to dot
the residual carving of water as it slides
Another droplet falls beside it, parallel
it aligns, growling thunder overhead.
Without stirring we are robotic workforces
Without awaking we are left inside
The constructs created for us, by corporate-
conglomerate elitist-psychopaths.
Two drops of water on the window
simmer red with burning anger.
Crash lightening sears the sky
Rage becomes you, girders melt.
The starry night undercurrent, flings
us backwards, never up, as democracies
which seek to serve sink into a sea of
stocks and shares, the wall street journal
sits atop the captains lobby, economies
were meant to tumble as the working classes
fumble for bread, men in suits gaggle
and toast to the millions they left for dead.
Resistance is futile, when eighty-five
of the richest suit owners sit on currency
that was meant for the three point five
billion who aren’t driven by gluttony.
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC
I pride,
In many things.
Little and big.
Existing and imaginary.
Useful and unnecessary.
Almost ubiquitously.
I take pride in my mind, most of all.
In the many wonders it brings me.
It lets me wave
at the voyagers that zip by
as I swim,
weightless and cold
in the eternal stardust of would bes.
It lets me simmer
in the memory of a younger day.
Of all the loves loved
and the ones lost
I pride the ones that never gave way.
Like old paintings
stowed away deeply
fragments,
moving,
ageing effortlessly.
I take pride in the fact that I have one true friend
and not many.
I don't know why I take pride in it though
I would understand culling a herd, if I had any.
I take pride in a soul that has learnt to love so deeply.
Deeper than the rivers of the world
and tumultuous as the sea
I take pride in my dog, sitting
when I command it.
I take pride in the fact that,
At least he understands it.
I take pride in the words that I think
and regret the ones I don't.
I take pride in understanding the existence of truth
and its relentless need to run and hide away.
I take pride in my people
and in their endless rebellion against sanity.
I take pride in their manic displays of affection
despite their distaste for the same affectations.
I take pride in their synchronized entropy,
beautiful,
much like the death of a galaxy.
I take pride in the songs I hear,
the sonnets of love and despair.
of first discoveries,
and fevered dreams.
Of Kings and conquerors
and knights against the regime.
Of their legends that soar and rise and
go beyond where the grave lies.
I take pride in the mirror.
Though broken and shattered beyond repair
it bestows me with honesty
about the one that I care.
I take pride in all these aberrations,
in these tiny little manipulations.
These effervescent little marionettes
forever dancing within constellations.
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 11:30 PM UTC
Karma, Karma
hateful heart in trouble,
***** deeds of action
will now simmer and bubble….
That surge in the stillness of air
vibrates leaves on every tree,
the truth laying below deceptive layers
where you think you’re safe to be.
That tingly feeling on your skin
the spark of fire within your eyes,
a surge of deception fills the air
as light flickers in the sky.
An eye for an eye
paybacks can run deep.
Do you think yours are any different?
Karma really does SEEP!
Be careful where that energy roams
Karma pays back in triple,
for that ***** deed done and lie told
can devastate, destroy and *******
~
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 12:51 PM UTC
Pizza is my life
I started out as dough with doughy eyes
Mother picks me up
Mother molds me
After no time at all I'm sent down the line
Toppings...
Things other people want but I get
By the end the toppings are as important as the dough
Sometimes I wonder if there was any dough to begin with
Because the foundation is changed so much by the fires of the oven
The chaos makes me steam, bubble, and boil
Once I simmer down I'm recognizable as what I should be but not what I once was
Now that I'm developed it's time to be delivered into the world
And find my own home
But what will I find when I get there?
Will it be love?
Or will I be ate up and shat out?
Or is there a difference?
May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 1:28 PM UTC
A quiet book of words, from a lonely man in his room
Her tiny voice, like pebbles rolling down a stream,
surrounded by pines
Sand between her toes, humming a song her mother used to sing,
forgot the words
Holding my head in your arms, blue little room, listening to
the wind chimes
Your bamboo forest, outside this ***** window, full of
ladybugs & grasshoppers
Green grass drying to hollow shells, snapped off by careless hands
Brushed away by gentle winds, spread among limestone & juniper
Standing barefoot on the paving stones, her toenails painted
yellow with black dandelions
A sip of iced tea, lemon, a bite of steamed rice
Trying to put a few thoughts together, letting the day simmer down
We'll sit together a while longer, listen to the crickets in the bamboo
Waiting, quietly waiting on your voice, the only thing
that keeps me dreaming anymore
May 8, 2011
May 8, 2011 at 1:00 AM UTC
On the west side of Starlite Dr.,
just inside of Kingfisher -- before the welcome sign,
stood a Wal-Mart.
Underneath dim lot lamps,
dry oil caked the cracked pavement.
Crickets hopped over cricket corpses.
Two employees took turns lighting new cigarettes
with the still-hot embers of old cigarettes.
There were six sedans, two pickups, and three semi-trucks
outside the store.
2 a.m.
Parked car.
I noticed an effulgent memorial on the fringe.
Subject unclear from a distance,
but statue certain;
gleam of bronze certain.
Followed the black chain-framed path
to a lemon brick-backed display:
Sam Walton
Hometown Kingfisher
And there you stood, Sam.
With a bobble of a bronze head,
gorilla arms, and some charcoal
canine frozen mid-pant to your side--
Beams of light shining into your carved eyes,
yellowed grass at your feet.
And I wonder,
Did you feel cruel?
Beginning as a Five and Dime,
then turning into the great killer of Five and Dimes.
Sitting at a table telling all your friends, they could watch you eat.
Too forward, too soon.
You being dead and all.
To be fair, I've got that ambition too, Sam.
The kind that leaves you lonely.
The kind that leaves you in the back booth of a diner.
The kind that makes the dunces conspire.
Yeah, there are very few differences between you and me.
Those being
I'm not a cartoon statue,
crickets aren't crawling on my face,
big-bellied tourists don't pose and snap photos at my place,
I'm mortal, and you're the other one.
Looked around.
Stood in front of you.
Stared in the direction your obsidian eyes stared.
You overlooked the traffic.
And though Target gets all the hot, middle-aged women
and fiery college kids,
you get the pleasure of watching real folks leave.
The tobacco chewers,
the moms of six,
the grease monkeys,
the third grade teachers;
the grandparents
all simmer and meld by traffic stop.
It seems fitting for you, Sam.
Watching over us,
your consumers.
Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 10:18 PM UTC
)
o ( ( (
O ) ( )
) ( o
( ( ( O
) o ) O ) o
( O ( o ( )
) o ) (
**make me a cauldron of a witch's
brew•let it bubble and boil...;
simmer and stew• allow the con-
coction to churn•feed it with raw an-
guish and spiteful spurn•whisper my wi-
shes into shady ingredients•scatter them in
to render it potent•stir it wild...with an iron
ladle with a wooden haft•raucous incanta-
tions of a long forgotten craft•...now give
me a vial of the witch's brew•let it
**** me or grant me the gifts
promised in lieu•**
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 8:22 AM UTC
Get a big **** of butter
throw it in the pan
get your Asparagus out
cut them fresh, not from a can
Simmer them gently
use a little pepper
the more seasoning
makes it taste much better
Then put it on a plate
just for you and me
and see's who's first
to run to the bathroom for a ***
I watch from across the table
is that a tear in your eye
or is it a Asparagus stick
between your thighs
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris
© 2011 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 5:06 PM UTC
There is a state of existence,
where a person is neither A nor B
he's inbetween--
he's the addition, the subtraction, the shove and retraction,
I've spent my life "+"ing and "-"ing
building empires of handshakes,
floating from bar to bar with drinking pals,
crowbarring ice off queens of black venom,
I'm the distortion in the middle, but I can't see the end--
I never promised answers,
but the soft hands, the wet eye'd, and the widows
cry out for closure,
I get edgy and the "+"ing turns to "x"ing
Instead of answers--
I take the As and Bs,
I inhale their the white-knuckle moments,
I simmer in their fading passion,
I glide through their dying beds,
Instead of clear answers--
A x B x A x B x A x B x A x B
=
(unfamiliarperfume, missingherwedding, socialnetworkwindowshopping, backroom, thestoplight, theschoolzone, dirtylaundry, rejectedphonecalls, hisgirlfriend, herboyfriend, hisboyfriend, hergirlfriend, otherwives, otherhusbands, blackout, clenchedfist, animmatureandirresponsibleflirtationwithaddiction, howlingatthemoon, gettingoffonthepast, leaveherinthenursinghome, makingthewake, mowingthegrass, droppingthebouquet, tooold, tooyoung, toolate, toosoon, toosweet, toocruel, toofat, toothin, toonosy, toodistant, toobad)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Best Laid Plans
And in the grey of early morning,
they look at the equation,
they look at the proposed solution,
and inevitably the As and the Bs
say to me,
"Now, simplify it."
I get edgy
I get edgy
I get edgy.
May 12, 2012
May 12, 2012 at 3:19 AM UTC
Sliminess of the mermaid, makes me come alive, strange?
don't blame me for this, that you would think an aberration,
I've long forgotten the human logic, from the moment I realized,
fate has joined me with her, the mermaid, a longing unfulfilled for long,
This sensual yearning sans prospect of consummation, baffles others
but not me, life has many dark alleyways that go nowhere.
Aren't we illusions ourselves? Viewing sun's intense ways and moon's
hesitant tranquilizing gaze, through water's blue buffer is narcotic.
From under water only a cool simmer , different experiences,
fish fin caresses, guilty pleasures of carousals with masked shark beauties,
underwater world has no pains, ever heard about
stilling pain by swimming long distant nights?
Or is it because, I don't see my own teardrops shed underwater?
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 8:37 AM UTC
I lay down
your creamy expanse
unto the marble surface,
as if milk made love with
the stars in the galaxies.
I write you out
as pleasant simmer
of pulverized charcoal
and bloated glycerine.
I splatter and spread
fine dusts of Carica
in temperate motion
to touch the sleek edges
of the vanilla branches
on your person.
I hold and dip
my feathery digit
amongst rose water
to grasp the flowers
that frames your face,
like light morganites
that hail from the west.
I cast you off
as the blue sea engulfs
the life from the waters
where life swims with
stable beginnings
and whirlwinds of stories.
I finish you
by letting molten pearls
lither your dark onyx orbs,
surrounded by your lakes of gelatinous almond,
like shooting comets
finding rest on land,
as lightning's faint and close
but never quite touch.
I made you
with intrinsic detail and rawness
to give you the life
that you may never have.
Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 8:52 AM UTC
Serenity my impractical refrain
What oceans I have seen could not contain you
Still from long ago
You sleep with sediment in caves of night
Aiding my excuse not to come rescue
While only you could rescue me
And iron out my body crumpled
To let us sleep with tidy sheets
Relived of grime and filth that has compiled upon my years
Believing I can live with out
A single decent peace of mind
Oppression now has swam up stream
And lurks between resembled shadows
Of the memories adhering only to your name
Oh serenity my impractical refrain
Through fault, from which I’ve been delivered
A bitter place I’ve built around my self
Know that amends are only spoken towards your name
Depleted, torn and strewn I simmer
Swept a ‘withered, for oppression now lies within
Arise a faint acknowledge towards me
If ever you wish to return
And I will tend my bed so rightly
For our sound sleep, together, healing burns
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 5:48 PM UTC
Beautiful colors
Vibrant light
Dark shadows
Pain in the night
Long lines
Smooth as glass
Shards await
A looming crash
Lights beckon
Future promise
Sudden pain
Bleeding bliss
Secret words
Sight unseen
Another's intent
You must glean
Time slows
Breaking it's gait
Simmer alone
Enduring your fate
Beautiful spell
Shivering joy
Maturity lost
Happy boy
Words burst
Forcing their way out
Focused attention
There is no doubt
Emotional courage
Consumed with fear
Faith in you
But you're not here
Passion builds
Only to peak
Inevitable pauses
Not for the weak
Feelings ebb
Self-preservation
Love never dies
Winter's hibernation
Reality lives
In this different world
In our dark minds
We are hurled
In a new way
Love is defined
Held back
Our actions confined
Their face
You cannot see
Their words
All they can be
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 9:03 PM UTC