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Poetry by MAN Mar 2014
A Beauty you are out and within
I have an insatiable desire to write poetry on your skin
Your body my canvas feel my gentle brush
Writing ******* with my ****** touch
Cinnamon lips I love your tone
Soft and silky to the bone
Finding words..be my guide
As we connect I come inside
Filling each other..there's no strain
Steady my thoughts I must maintain
Watching my penmanship using a steady stroke
I start hallucinating from my mental smoke
Sends me into a frenzied flow
I'll find my pace..go on a roll
My words soak in as you taste
My emotions invade your inner space
Down from your toes..Up to your eyes
Writing Haikus between your thighs
Poetry on your body every inch
You start writhing from my Scorpion pinch
Sinfully venomous my words forever sink
Into your skin my poetic tattoo ink
As you lay naked I visually feast
Every line of your body a masterpiece..
M.A.N 3-7-14 One of my favorites I really enjoyed writing this poem..^_*  ♏
Sinfully yours


By Williamsji

In the creation of God’s own stunning paradise
   Adam, the first male sat devoid of any jeopardize
Fostering the grace and loveliness of **** Eve
looking at her natural, fiery body with a wicked eye
A snake, crawled from other side of the forbidden tree
Both, Adam and Eye, were uncovered and free
The eternal backyard stood with red ripened apples
While his lips longed hard towards her *******
The first ever sin, they dealt with quietly sitting
          Eating, embracing and together biting
God, announced his annoyance to human on earth
Watch, you will never last, but you will give birth
In pain to sinful sons and daughters in million
And then, God disappeared to his pavilion
Later, forever sinfully, they lived for mankind
             Singing the gospel of the devil so unkind


Williamsji
www.williamsji.com
Santiago Nov 2015
[Talking: K-Rino]
Polytheism: The worship of many Gods. Monotheism: The worship of only one. The title of this composition is called, Three Gods.
Yeah

[Hook:]
I know three Gods, and none of the same
Three things that can all fall up under the name
Some worship many idols, others thunder and rain
Of the three Gods I speak of, which one do you claim?
Listen, polytheism is your enemy
Each God is an entity that prevents people from elevating mentally
And I ain't talking about the Trinity
The three Gods entered me sinfully, manifested death is what sent to me

[Verse 1:]
Moneys the first God I'll speak on, some think that it's wealth
We even place more value on money than life itself
Some might even take a life just to get in hand
Moneys replaceable, but no one can recycle a man
The accumulation of paper leaves the hatred and greed
Immoral seeds they planted in hearts other entities breed
Like materialism, those who feel like cloths and a car make a person
Take that away, and might expose who they are
It's the motivation of war making calamities start
Gratification of it's misuse tears families apart
Can it buy you love and happiness? That's just a facade
Those things only come from building a connection with God
True indeed the love money is the root of all evil
It makes a man ******* women, and sell dope to his people
Now the question gained new revenue is inevitable
It makes you fall for every single trick the devil will pull

[Hook:]
I know three Gods, and none of the same
Three things that can all fall up under the name
Some worship many idols, others thunder and rain
Of the three Gods I speak of, which one do you claim?
Listen, polytheism is your enemy
Each God is an entity that prevents people from elevating mentally
And I ain't talking about the Trinity
The three Gods entered me sinfully, manifested death is what sent to me

[Verse 2:]
Drugs are the second God I'll speak on, which one do you use?
It's a multitude in the world now so many to choose?
You got people on speed boasts some agree that they need coke
Some worshiping marijuana baptized in the **** smoke
You can get you a upper, or score you a downer
And now a days more people getting higher from over the counter
If dope ain't a God, prove it. Will discover who's right
It's everywhere, plus it calls you in the middle of night
And in the Dope Bible in the third chapter, The Book of *******
Explains he who hit'ith one shall have no strength to refrain
And shall remain chasing a high whether sunny or rain
And still much lusts making sure that the habits maintain
Seeking three rocks, instead of trying to detox
You gotta be blocks trying to get 10 dollars for a pair of in-store Reeboks
Praying to the drug God from seven to seven
You must believe if you get high enough you'll end up in heaven

[Hook:]
I know three Gods, and none of the same
Three things that can all fall up under the name
Some worship many idols, others thunder and rain
Of the three Gods I speak of, which one do you claim?
Listen, polytheism is your enemy
Each God is an entity that prevents people from elevating mentally
And I ain't talking about the Trinity
The three Gods entered me sinfully, manifested death is what sent to me

[Verse 3:]
Now the last God I'll speak on is the one called ***
It's natural which makes it's analysis even more complex
It shouldn't be abused by anyone, but the devious duo
This third God is even used to get the previous two
Let me uncover this, cause' lust sits above the list
It's real dangerous in cases where no love exist
Multidimensional, 16 bars can't cover the ground
The truth is, it's twice as hazardous when love is around
*** is powerful, intended only for husband and wife
Used for unrighteous purposes, but made to reproduce life
We all come from it, some die from it, some live for it,
And when it's real good ain't nothing some people won't do give for it
Without mastery over it, it controls you and pleases
Used as a genocidal tool, by way of deadly diseases
It's the reason we all exist, intentionally or accidentally
If you lack spiritual strength, the physical impacts the mental

[Hook:]
I know three Gods, and none of the same
Three things that can all fall up under the name
Some worship many idols, others thunder and rain
Of the three Gods I speak of, which one do you claim?
Listen, polytheism is your enemy
Each God is an entity that prevents people from elevating mentally
And I ain't talking about the Trinity
The three Gods entered me sinfully, manifested death is what sent to me

[Man Talking:]
There's only one God, the creator of the heavens and the Earth. And you and I were created in his image and after his likeness. You can't bow down to money, you can't bow down to drugs, you can't bow down to ***. You were born to be like your father, a God. Stand up and be a God black man, and woman. Stand up and take charge of your world.
The world is yours.
Robin Carretti Jun 2018
She, "City' cafe cat
But we would do
anything
for a cup of coffee right?
Where not the punctual
calendar girls day or night
The territories

(My Heaven's) steep spoon swirls
How it became the show
Guys and Dolls
Coffee of diaries souls
How a fortune of words
can burn a cup
One sip out of you just ****
At least my flavor trip
I did a lot of long walking
Sipping below his sea level
Hialeah slim blend
The firelight is
glowing
 Beloved by brown warm eyes firefly
This one is the long
sip to meet him bewitched

The Spanish fly
always on his cup trim
More Sambuca  Italian coffee
but why is this so long_
mouth stretching
Another long wait
To get the creamy shining
Knight
My light long
way home
Queen bee cream and
sugar delight, not honey
cleverly cupped
international trip money

The charming Knight
Over the coffee feeling
  camelback
She brews her
fulfillment
he massages her skin
On the fortune road
coffee beans "Parliament"
One long sip enjoyment
Brown leaf so Autummy
That long trip something
is falling
Good body flavor his calling
She neighed into
his love fire dim text
The desire long
extension
all wired

I just want — to — hold you — Egyptian

King with her cherries bing
I never heard of that coffee?
Got like jewels shall bling

One big fortune her vocal chord sing
we work harder to be more
golden winning goes to _
__

The winner holding beans
Eyes of fortune Emmy fascination
(Sweet Carolina) honey so much more
blossom into her coffee such luster
bean amazingly guilty hey buster
Feeling so fortunate
how he reads into her expression

The Lord is my shepherd is coming
but hesitancy in her response
Then the next kiss would be with
her coffee embrace could he afford her
Also, her Sophia seduction like
styled camped
Safari how coffee became
the love cure for illnesses
how it healed hearts and asthma

(Her Vows) desireable boiled bows
Buganda Kingdom
I love you in the morning shore

What an obsession fortune beds
of Coffee, fingertips trailed to him
because he couldn't let her go
completely loving coffee and she

He cupped her in his
broad shoulders so he
Let’s be creative and
think of fortune names

Fortune:

Richest self-made millionaires
the rim of my coffee cup

I see a fortune flowing one long
trip faces glowing

Howard Schultz Forbes fortunes from scratch
I guess he saw his beans clearly no eye to patch
So the name like "Starbucks"
Knocking on heavily cup the
woodpecker chucks trip of coffee perks
That billionaire
secrets
is Facebook
Mark Zuckerberg
entrepreneur what a face
nothing more just faces
Will I get an idea the way they do?

Let’s open the (Gate Bill)
micro-soft computer,
French roast bold what was
really told
Hungary England how he
survived the **** Budapest
now he trying to save
other refuges with 500 million

Like her tiny cup of Turkish
heavy sediment Istanbul
Oceans storms her Grecian coffee
Also, her mind was dazzled but rambled
by the intruder
Leaving her all different coffee flavors
Like a fortune of familiar words
One knowing about coffee?
The “Spicy Taco” I felt I was in a
spiritual environment
of the Mecca in the holy city
Stephen when he went to her place
he would try so hard to protect her

Seeing the fortune coming inside the
amber water fountain
She knew his (Grecian Island)
flavors so well
with cardamon meet lovely (Cinnamon)
The coffee so sinfully the game
backgammon and chess

How love came in many Cafes parades
of the New Orlean Carnival
the Turkish armies "Parisian ****"
women and Men
Robes Pierre French revolution
What an evolution world cafes
Long ago far away 1600 Pope Clement
V111 pleasure full cup of Turkish coffee
very popular business thinkers

One golden ticket most expensive coffee
(Starbucks) the trip of a lifetime
(Cafe Nero)
Please bow to (Grace Kelly) coffee
Princess of Morocco how people
are looking more exotic back
in fortunes bed and ***
One long lie what to be said
Doing the Egyptian coffee dance
Exotic love Islands and France
How she Sophia waited for him in
bed nakedly the "Egyptian silky"
love sheets pour the crystal eyes
milky
((Fifty flavor))
shades of coffee her
eyes opened he
saved her with her
special blend
The depth of loving his hands
melted inside of her coffee
He was her love intruder
sending
her all his coffee flavors
For an instant, their eyes
met like the grains
of heat, she was drowning
in his honey brown depths.
One long Coffee trip my way of telling this coffee-lite all over the website story I hope you have time for my fresh many flavors to enhance your love life even if your single may e in a whole bean better or married to a fortune King you know how to get you coffee he serves you hot and boiling mad but at the end of the coffee *** your siling money glad
THE PROLOGUE.

Our Hoste saw well that the brighte sun
Th' arc of his artificial day had run
The fourthe part, and half an houre more;
And, though he were not deep expert in lore,
He wist it was the eight-and-twenty day
Of April, that is messenger to May;
And saw well that the shadow of every tree
Was in its length of the same quantity
That was the body ***** that caused it;
And therefore by the shadow he took his wit,                 *knowledge
That Phoebus, which that shone so clear and bright,
Degrees was five-and-forty clomb on height;
And for that day, as in that latitude,
It was ten of the clock, he gan conclude;
And suddenly he plight
his horse about.                     pulled

"Lordings," quoth he, "I warn you all this rout
,               company
The fourthe partie of this day is gone.
Now for the love of God and of Saint John
Lose no time, as farforth as ye may.
Lordings, the time wasteth night and day,
And steals from us, what privily sleeping,
And what through negligence in our waking,
As doth the stream, that turneth never again,
Descending from the mountain to the plain.
Well might Senec, and many a philosopher,
Bewaile time more than gold in coffer.
For loss of chattels may recover'd be,
But loss of time shendeth
us, quoth he.                       destroys

It will not come again, withoute dread,

No more than will Malkin's maidenhead,
When she hath lost it in her wantonness.
Let us not moulde thus in idleness.
"Sir Man of Law," quoth he, "so have ye bliss,
Tell us a tale anon, as forword* is.                        the bargain
Ye be submitted through your free assent
To stand in this case at my judgement.
Acquit you now, and *holde your behest
;             keep your promise
Then have ye done your devoir* at the least."                      duty
"Hoste," quoth he, "de par dieux jeo asente;
To breake forword is not mine intent.
Behest is debt, and I would hold it fain,
All my behest; I can no better sayn.
For such law as a man gives another wight,
He should himselfe usen it by right.
Thus will our text: but natheless certain
I can right now no thrifty
tale sayn,                           worthy
But Chaucer (though he *can but lewedly
         knows but imperfectly
On metres and on rhyming craftily)
Hath said them, in such English as he can,
Of olde time, as knoweth many a man.
And if he have not said them, leve* brother,                       dear
In one book, he hath said them in another
For he hath told of lovers up and down,
More than Ovide made of mentioun
In his Epistolae, that be full old.
Why should I telle them, since they he told?
In youth he made of Ceyx and Alcyon,
And since then he hath spoke of every one
These noble wives, and these lovers eke.
Whoso that will his large volume seek
Called the Saintes' Legend of Cupid:
There may he see the large woundes wide
Of Lucrece, and of Babylon Thisbe;
The sword of Dido for the false Enee;
The tree of Phillis for her Demophon;
The plaint of Diane, and of Hermion,
Of Ariadne, and Hypsipile;
The barren isle standing in the sea;
The drown'd Leander for his fair Hero;
The teares of Helene, and eke the woe
Of Briseis, and Laodamia;
The cruelty of thee, Queen Medea,
Thy little children hanging by the halse
,                         neck
For thy Jason, that was of love so false.
Hypermnestra, Penelop', Alcest',
Your wifehood he commendeth with the best.
But certainly no worde writeth he
Of *thilke wick'
example of Canace,                       that wicked
That loved her own brother sinfully;
(Of all such cursed stories I say, Fy),
Or else of Tyrius Apollonius,
How that the cursed king Antiochus
Bereft his daughter of her maidenhead;
That is so horrible a tale to read,
When he her threw upon the pavement.
And therefore he, of full avisement,         deliberately, advisedly
Would never write in none of his sermons
Of such unkind* abominations;                                 unnatural
Nor I will none rehearse, if that I may.
But of my tale how shall I do this day?
Me were loth to be liken'd doubteless
To Muses, that men call Pierides
(Metamorphoseos  wot what I mean),
But natheless I recke not a bean,
Though I come after him with hawebake
;                        lout
I speak in prose, and let him rhymes make."
And with that word, he with a sober cheer
Began his tale, and said as ye shall hear.

Notes to the Prologue to The Man of Law's Tale

1. Plight: pulled; the word is an obsolete past tense from
"pluck."

2. No more than will Malkin's maidenhead: a proverbial saying;
which, however, had obtained fresh point from the Reeve's
Tale, to which the host doubtless refers.

3. De par dieux jeo asente: "by God, I agree".  It is
characteristic that the somewhat pompous Sergeant of Law
should couch his assent in the semi-barbarous French, then
familiar in law procedure.

4. Ceyx and Alcyon: Chaucer treats of these in the introduction
to the poem called "The Book of the Duchess."  It relates to the
death of Blanche, wife of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, the
poet's patron, and afterwards his connexion by marriage.

5. The Saintes Legend of Cupid: Now called "The Legend of
Good Women". The names of eight ladies mentioned here are
not in the "Legend" as it has come down to us; while those of
two ladies in the "legend" -- Cleopatra and Philomela -- are her
omitted.

6. Not the Muses, who had their surname from the place near
Mount Olympus where the Thracians first worshipped them; but
the nine daughters of Pierus, king of Macedonia, whom he
called the nine Muses, and who, being conquered in a contest
with the genuine sisterhood, were changed into birds.

7. Metamorphoseos:  Ovid's.

8. Hawebake: hawbuck, country lout; the common proverbial
phrase, "to put a rogue above a gentleman," may throw light on
the reading here, which is difficult.

THE TALE.

O scatheful harm, condition of poverty,
With thirst, with cold, with hunger so confounded;
To aske help thee shameth in thine hearte;
If thou none ask, so sore art thou y-wounded,
That very need unwrappeth all thy wound hid.
Maugre thine head thou must for indigence
Or steal, or beg, or borrow thy dispence
.                      expense

Thou blamest Christ, and sayst full bitterly,
He misdeparteth
riches temporal;                          allots amiss
Thy neighebour thou witest
sinfully,                           blamest
And sayst, thou hast too little, and he hath all:
"Parfay (sayst thou) sometime he reckon shall,
When that his tail shall *brennen in the glede
,      burn in the fire
For he not help'd the needful in their need."

Hearken what is the sentence of the wise:
Better to die than to have indigence.
Thy selve neighebour will thee despise,                    that same
If thou be poor, farewell thy reverence.
Yet of the wise man take this sentence,
Alle the days of poore men be wick',                      wicked, evil
Beware therefore ere thou come to that *****.                    point

If thou be poor, thy brother hateth thee,
And all thy friendes flee from thee, alas!
O riche merchants, full of wealth be ye,
O noble, prudent folk, as in this case,
Your bagges be not fill'd with ambes ace,                   two aces
But with six-cinque, that runneth for your chance;       six-five
At Christenmass well merry may ye dance.

Ye seeke land and sea for your winnings,
As wise folk ye knowen all th' estate
Of regnes;  ye be fathers of tidings,                         *kingdoms
And tales, both of peace and of debate
:                contention, war
I were right now of tales desolate
,                     barren, empty.
But that a merchant, gone in many a year,
Me taught a tale, which ye shall after hear.

In Syria whilom dwelt a company
Of chapmen rich, and thereto sad
and true,            grave, steadfast
Clothes of gold, and satins rich of hue.
That widewhere
sent their spicery,                    to distant parts
Their chaffare
was so thriftly* and so new,      wares advantageous
That every wight had dainty* to chaffare
              pleasure deal
With them, and eke to selle them their ware.

Now fell it, that the masters of that sort
Have *shapen them
to Rome for to wend,           determined, prepared
Were it for chapmanhood* or for disport,                        trading
None other message would they thither send,
But come themselves to Rome, this is the end:
And in such place as thought them a vantage
For their intent, they took their herbergage.
                  lodging

Sojourned have these merchants in that town
A certain time as fell to their pleasance:
And so befell, that th' excellent renown
Of th' emperore's daughter, Dame Constance,
Reported was, with every circumstance,
Unto these Syrian merchants in such wise,
From day to day, as I shall you devise
                          relate

This was the common voice of every man
"Our emperor of Rome, God him see
,                 look on with favour
A daughter hath, that since the the world began,
To reckon as well her goodness and beauty,
Was never such another as is she:
I pray to God in honour her sustene
,                           sustain
And would she were of all Europe the queen.

"In her is highe beauty without pride,
And youth withoute greenhood
or folly:        childishness, immaturity
To all her workes virtue is her guide;
Humbless hath slain in her all tyranny:
She is the mirror of all courtesy,
Her heart a very chamber of holiness,
Her hand minister of freedom for almess
."                   almsgiving

And all this voice was sooth, as God is true;
But now to purpose
let us turn again.                     our tale
These merchants have done freight their shippes new,
And when they have this blissful maiden seen,
Home to Syria then they went full fain,
And did their needes
, as they have done yore,     *business *formerly
And liv'd in weal; I can you say no more.                   *prosperity

Now fell it, that these merchants stood in grace
                favour
Of him that was the Soudan
of Syrie:                            Sultan
For when they came from any strange place
He would of his benigne courtesy
Make them good cheer, and busily espy
                          inquire
Tidings of sundry regnes
, for to lear
                 realms learn
The wonders that they mighte see or hear.

Amonges other thinges, specially
These merchants have him told of Dame Constance
So great nobless, in earnest so royally,
That this Soudan hath caught so great pleasance
               pleasure
To have her figure in his remembrance,
That all his lust
, and all his busy cure
,            pleasure *care
Was for to love her while his life may dure.

Paraventure in thilke* large book,                                 that
Which that men call the heaven, y-written was
With starres, when that he his birthe took,
That he for love should have his death, alas!
For in the starres, clearer than is glass,
Is written, God wot, whoso could it read,
The death of every man withoute dread.
                           doubt

In starres many a winter therebeforn
Was writ the death of Hector, Achilles,
Of Pompey, Julius, ere they were born;
The strife of Thebes; and of Hercules,
Of Samson, Turnus, and of Socrates
The death; but mennes wittes be so dull,
That no wight can well read it at the full.

This Soudan for his privy council sent,
And, *shortly of this matter for to pace
,          to pass briefly by
He hath to them declared his intent,
And told them certain, but* he might have grace             &
Joel M Frye Apr 2011
aimless caresses possess
a puissance, carelessly
purposeful, impossibly
sensual, seducing with
mercilessly sharpened
incessant desires,
releasing passionate
hisses of suspended
breaths, sweetness
of whispers, softness
of kisses slipping their
passage past *******,
solar plexus,
slowly, slowly
submerging
to sunder her
senseless with
soul-shaking
consummating
surcease.
Parag Aug 2015
Please don’t ****** me please..

Its leading me slowly to..
endless insatiable
blinding me sweetly
***** fall
sinfully stunned
--for my fall is your fall

Please don’t ****** me..Please don't ****** me..
my  first...
Inked Quill Jul 2018
My cravings
Drenched
Seeking deeper taste
Of you
Insatiable desire
At the centre
Of my heart
To write poetry
On your chiseled body
Your moans
Send me on frenzied flow
Sinfully voracious
Visually I feast
Your naked hide
Every curve of your body
Purest form of masterpiece
Rickie Louis Dec 2016
Here I lie wide awake,
thoughts pouring through my mind.
How sweet the touch your body,
when craving after mine.

Playful eyes and dancing toes,
wrestling to shed our clothes.
You bite my neck and I taste yours,
we slowly kiss, our tongues explore.


I toss and turn, try to ignore,
these visions now vibrate my core,
the chance I'd take if you were near,
to breathe you in as though you're here.

Lips running down your heartfelt chest,
caressing them along your breast,
excitfull moans begin to flow,
the further down I go below.


With grace I trace, my love expands,
this sanctioned sin, no reprimands.
You feel me now, passions run deep,
quietly your sounds they speak,
and as they do,
I follow through,
through the depths of reaching you.


As inner thighs,
quiver and quake,
salty sweet your taste I take,
your fingers running through my hair,
you pace my face,
and steady,
there!
You groan in ecstasy,
your love receives the best of me.
I slowly give my all to you,
with rhythm we begin to move,
clasping our hands, you sway your hips,
you raise them up, as we eclipse.


It echos through these deep elations,
driving in intense sensations.

Entangled we begin to dance,
form beads of tropical romance.
You rain on me, and I on you,
our bodies moist like sultry dew.


Tell me now, where have I gone,
this feels like some celestial bond.
I'm but alone, in my own bed,
yet here you are inside my head.

Joining rapid beating hearts,
pulsating through our tender parts.
Increasingly your warm breath's felt,
together we begin to melt...


I must expel this lustrous notion,
to sinfully vow my devotion.
How can it be, to have not met,
yet yarn for you, without regret.
Perhaps one day I'll feel once more,
reality vibrate my core.

<3
Do you ever feel like dying?
Not sinfully, I swear.
No suicide involved in this,
but life you cannot bear.
Do you ever feel like letting go?
Traveling to God.
Just leaving everything behind,
though nothing's even wrong.
My mom calls me an old soul,
I see through different eyes.
Sometimes I just feel tired,
and think that I must die.
For how will I get through every trivial day?
When I've been here before,
and everything's the same.
Don't get me wrong,
I have so many moments that I love.
I have a best friend,
could I watch her from above?
It's not that I'm sad,
that I'm depressed or anything.
Sometimes I just want to go home.
I want to get my wings.
Sometimes I have a feeling,
that maybe I'll die young.
But don't be sad if I'm gone when my life has just begun.
It's not like this is my first time,
I've been here before.
I'll stay here for a little while,
but prepare for me to soar.

Lasting and delicious;
A sweet kiss of yours;
Stinking and glossy;
A sweat drop of yours;
humid and sluggish
A love desire of yours;
Light and sparkle;
A burning flame of yours;
Pleasure and passion;
A seductive sin of yours.
*
BY
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
williamsji@yahoo.com
www.williamsji.com
www.williamsmaveli­.com
www.williamsgeorge.com
From MICROTHEMES, a collection of short poems, written by WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
Robin Carretti Jun 2018
The cozier side of loving
Taking the ride inside
a picture pours
The rosier* pompadour
Mirage sale outside
The heart got heavy his
spoonful guided to lighten you

Picked you his cream eyes
Your brush he strokes
He 's hooked but your
unhooked the writing
on the wall
He's having a ball
Whats in his gesture
He's his  own stir
Standing like the still-life
Afterlife do we get our pleasure?

Venus mix of measuring
love pursuing
Needing more
room until?
We sign a love will

Watchtower not much
time
Why do they say time
will tell
The sacramental
"Venus"
Canvas genius

Secretive confidential
Can you ever be more
Specific love is terrific
Modern times
conventional
You just know
the love
The only way
From the bottom or
Your top lips
Venus had you on fire
"
How just knowing
first, love your head
above the canvas
Venus appears
It moves you

But occasionally
it turns off gas heat
He's thinking of
you opening his door
Venus of Gods

Spiritually doctrines
of habits
His cozy tidbits of
stories
Your rising in digits

The big study of the cafe
Painters of biology
So genuinely gifted
On the mountaintop,
he draws his body in
His canvas  of Venus
You're sinfully sweet
body wins

The win or the sin
hard time beats me within

The mystical interpretation
Those erroneous heats I see
Above the sea sweets for me
How he lands me
And than forbidden
Hands me God for what
I didn't really see

Not set to be turned
  like a time machine
can reset my buttons

Venus, you got me
To better love me in my
prime a matter of time
His favorite
You're his pride and joy
This wasn't a ploy
Your long friendship
_
*
No time for my memories
What outwins my failures
Just laughing it off comedies
He healed you inside at your best
The worst distance painting to rest

Like a triple heart by-pass
of doubles, life was a gas
A sense of who
you are
The religion is a
whole lotta (Zeppelin) love
The shaking (Elvis) painting  
Like a Viva Las Vegas
How the money jingled
like Venus

How you formed me
words listed scorned
To paint each other
The quaint picture
To be reborn again

You get the
picture right? the gain
All commitments
Venus invitations
It transforms into
a world
of forgiveness
Like the enigma
love engine locomotive

Taking your shoes off
Get cozy not to
be crossed off
Here's Johnny
the crossword puzzles

He looked at you
like a  blind man
For the first time
in your life
He was sharper in his
love than any man or wife
He said you are
my person


Venus of love talking,
humming, flaming
importantly, how
I see you reacting
you look
reading along
love
_book
But laughing is
the best
medicine

Venus, All mine to love you
and me maybe a baby
That's the name she's Venus
Getting Cozy romantically love silly or way too serious can get you delirious I feel the comfort zone is like a mac and cheese please don't burn it we live in a world that's always turning and more affection to be loving transform you're yourself into something like Venus. I am waiting to see your creative side a love is not to ever hide
Grishma Rialch Jul 2010
Waiting for him,
Was like a,
Mindless abyss.
I thought,
This time I should give it a shot.
Add plus venture,
Into a realm full with pleasures of flesh.
Rather waiting to lie  in sepulcher.

Thence came the wooers,
On horses, chariots, planes and cars,
Courted me to the foreign lands of brand new emotions.
Greasy, exotic, curious  and even obscure ,
To satiate my hunger,
They poured,
And I sinfully devoured.

Ooooh!
A whip here.
Ouuch!
A tickle there.
Aahhhhh!!
The sheer unfolding of their classy work.

Every night lusciously they came,
Wrapped me in an awe of satire, skepticism and imagination,
Not to say of the bruises they gave,
Tears I shed of Anger,Pain ,Love and Hate.

Still I  followed them blindly and agape,
Because a new world in me was taking shape.
Of Shakespeare, Freud, Tolstoy, Eliot, Byron, Wordsworth and my then fav,
the great Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
A medley  of fantasy, fact-fiction, comedy, realism and romance.
Oh!
What not I chanced upon.
All emphasizing emotion, imagination, scientific and natural thought.


There was no stopping of these gnawing hunger pangs,
None lasted more than a one night stand.
The foolish me, unaware, cascaded in the fatal encounters,
Not knowing the pangs are of soul to reach the supreme ******.

Thence came a Seer
The Prophet,
The Wanderer,
The Forerunner,
It was as if he can rip me with his thoughts,
And see my soul through that tear…..

I distinctly remember that divine night,
The moment I held him in my desirous hands,
I was no more in dual fight.
Things started falling into place,
Was no more in that abysmal space.
Still I would say,
It’s a current phase.
This soon would also evade.
New Lover ,
For every new night…

To cut a long story short,
Just so,
Because of your low attention span,
The lover, the poet , the wooer
Was the great
Khalil Gibran.
copyright 2010 by Grishma Rialch
Jenay Breden Oct 2013
The cretens slipping through the trees
Nooses wound tight for the hangmans head
The angels weep n **** their guns
Fire charring the vocal strings of the innocent
Comparing battle scars to shooting stars
Its all in desperate wishing
Desire for their fallen deeds
Dragging steel shovels at their heels
Claiming bragging rights for dead dreams
Slow destruction of the spider webs
A delicately demolished reality
Those trapped at hells gates are singing sinfully.
Josh Koepp Mar 2013
I have fallen prey to the sirens song
Not just anyone, everyone
EVERY single chanted lyric slowly licking  my neck
And whispering in my ear in a sultry language
little lies, little spears
but lately my willpower has been lingering longer
in places where i cannot reach it
and i tend to wake to find a warm outline
laying next to me, singing sweetly
And ****
that warmth is beautiful
hot like a fire that i wished burned all over my body last night
but didn't

Though her voice touched me in ways i won't tell my children

A maidens song is a teasing whisper of what could be
with every word her spirit reaches out
brings you to your knees
and breathes through you sinfully
ghostly hair falling on your shoulders
as you fall upon her
your heart beat beating to the beat of the work of art
flowing from her tongue and her lips
the slower it is the more your mind trips and goes black
from the lack of oxygen
and the pure passion

and the faster she sings
you grow closer and closer to clutching your chest to calm your racing heart

then its over, and she gazes upon you
satisfied, seeing your beating essence through your chest
and the rest of your body
wanting
while your mind wonders at the beauty of their soul
taunting
singing only for you in a crowded room
and it is pure beauty
Ecstasy layered with an animal instinct
the air still hot with her words
and as she leaves your being blooms

i am glad i do not sail ships
because i would crash every vessel
into the cold stone that lies beneath a beautiful voice
a seductive lullaby puts this waking man to sleep
and awakens something far more awe-inspired
by the sharp eyes that look my way
releasing my unholy desires
because a maidens song is sung sinfully
but even heaven understands the sins that bring me
to my knees.
- K T P - Dec 2012
Sinful bliss on an endless kiss
Ideal kiss on a sinful bliss
Now kiss me sinfully

Feel my sinful bliss
Unwind my sinful heart’s kiss
Lull me to my true heart’s bliss
As a dare from a friend.  I had 15 minutes to write a poem with the word "Sinful".  Hope you enjoy the outcome!  

P.S.  how many times did I use the word "Sinful" in this poem?
Shasta Lee Jan 2011
Dear God;
Can you see the flaw in me?
Harnessed in my immortality?
This velvet heart and its scarred reality;
the evidence of my morality.
This damaged skin,
caves my soul within.
Oh, God!
Please save me from my living sin!
Daisy King Dec 2015
If you are searching for some sort of formula to carry on fighting, or for a sequence of numbers or symbols to decode bravery, there is no purpose to look any further. It’s not that you are close to it, or getting there, or that the concept itself of a bravery code is the first step towards deciphering the code, but you’ll never get the chance. There is no code. When you are trying to pull your parts together and make them work in concordance even though you have been unhinged an inch too far from the here and now, the currents of reality. For example, where is one of your hands? One is banging on the tabletop for attention while the other presses down on your trachea to crush it closed. You need to calm down one hand so you can use it to loosen the other from your own throat. There are no pretty ways- or any ways- to suture the open wounds that have been left on you. It feels filthy and confusing to speak, and it hurts because you know only yesterday your talk was free.

It is disturbing to smile and to hold your face without anything to express. All you want to do is release that scream that begs for freedom, just as speech. But you can’t go on like this, all torn apart- this is a body fighting itself, a war against its own shadow; it’s a mind murdering the body from inside. Think about that, if you can just about bear it, and then you’ll catch onto why there’s not a instruction manual waiting for you after your experience to lay out in bullet points the right way to feel. How to’s on coping with grief, guilt, disgust, dissociation, nightmares, the memory becoming part of your autobiography. There’s no manual or guide because there is no way to make peace with that.

No one ever taught you that bravery can be something other than clawed in eyes, sharpened nails, feral smiles. It doesn’t appear as the torn up hands of a wrecked clock or the veins filled with venom under poisoned skin. You can decide what your bravery looks like. Maybe it looks like smashed plates, slashed tires, the silver gleam along the edge of a bread knife that flashes as you make yourself a sandwich. Maybe it’s letting the shadows give you some comfort when the windows are jammmed and refuse to open. It’s framing pictures of yourself and your mother because you have a need for nostalgia almost as much. It’s changing the colour of your hair, it’s gin and tonic before noon or else only juice you drink from cartons. It’s taking out the ******* bins whilst knowing they contain one or several things you ought to not throw away, but taking the words of Kerouac- Accept loss forever. It looks, perhaps, like trying to fix a clock but allowing for times ahead to weave in and out of an arbitrary linear path. No matter how many times you look at those hands on that face, you’ll never be able to turn back time or bypass a single moment on fast forward. It’s brave to try and invent a potential cure and to persist, but someday you’ll be thankful you couldn’t fix yourself by going back over time or denying the disappearing time.

It could be going to confession every Tuesday and Thursday, or visiting a shooting range, whether or not you end up firing a gun. It could be learning to bake your favourite cake, then baking dozens of small cakes and eating them alone. It could be a simple mouth to pillow scream. It could be the development of an entirely original and organic dream. It didn’t come from nowhere, nor from what you are trying to be brave for. A terrible event can be catastrophic and cataclysmic. The evidence in that is surely in all catastrophes and the associated ways in which the world shifts around it, accomodates is corners, and is changed even just by the wake left behind.

Most likely it is writing and it’s burning. It’s howling, visualising your head split in two against a wall. It’s bleeding to remember why you stopped drawing your own blood. It’s acting sinfully to forget. It’s undergoing an exorcism of your own by drawing a map of your body and marking out all the hiding places taken as territory by the spectres that haunt you. You’ll need your bravery to claim those spaces back, to conjure a monster frightening enough to scare the spectres themselves out.

If you try on lots of looks for bravery, be aware you’ll be black-night and blues and plum-colour bruised. Healing looks a lot like brutality, but it is the best home you’ve ever had. It is the first that you have built with your own hands and you owe no one for it.

Remember: Whatever has been done. Whatever you have done to survive.
Remember: the war is almost over.
Remember: you have always been home.
Alin Oct 2014
I bought a real nutcracker today.
A fine shiny black truly cool looking one!
Each crack  compliments to a dandy vintage lad's  imaginary home TV shopper Ad.
Saying‘It's guaranteed! Hundred percent of mechanosensory reception!’

I try to convince myself between time stretching
‘Yes or No’s and ‘Just use stones’
‘Come on you've deserved it!’
‘Why bother?’

You have been craving for each
Tried and tested any,
same as so many
even from a hard peach.

So why not!? Keep it! – as if a testimony, from tough to juicy mimicking fruity blending **** seduced by crunchy   mouth twisting *****.

Digested from special yearly events to monthly justifications then weekly to daily and surprisingly after dinner, before breakfast, as brunch or even a whole meal sometimes.

You gnaw like a small rodent layer by layer cute but so tight although he says that’s alright.

Dashing trunks as if a woodpecker,
Stealing home reserved only-for-the-pet’s crumbs and
Finally receiving next day’s well deserved belly cramps.

Come on you almost broke your teeth during your worldwide exploring different types of shell husking trip.

Feel blessed now one time for goddess’ sake that she winks and tweaks my lips while it creaks, festively announces your recent find that nuts you shall eat raw only - neither baked nor from a sinfully roasted ready packed plastic bag.
Sad, mooning morning
Lost beasts and time
Disgust for machine lust overwhelming
It's not that I don't love you
That you don't love me enough
To sinfully and wantonly **** me
After all it's my birthday
Cause I'm old and you've lost interest
in being the man I loved
That's why our children tricked you
into writing and sending your confession

Stand up and take a bow
we learned your lessons well
who to trust, how to trust, and when
Turned us kids into your spies,
your lies, your alibis
to get us to create the software to do it
So you could **** your mystic **** genie
please know our kindness as hatred
All access passes to dumb *******
This memeallscene is a gallery crawl,
a gallow's walk of perps,
who should have known better

Just a thanks for clogging
the artists' ether with kiddy ****
much love for Kate Torn
we used your magick
to put us back together
Your address is on the ticket,
the reddress that you bought her.
Tap lightly, tap lively not,
the tuoche of Jack Frost is upon you.

All the best and much kindness.
Perfection is a trick of the mind.

This poem will change and tighten
the ties that bind us together
From the women and men of Bandahache.
for the women who sign away the right
to tell their stories
I hear you Anita Hill
But we've been stalked and stifled long enough
Yes, that's what prayer can do
DRAFT 2
Anne Bell Nov 2012
I cried because I just wanted to share it with you,
The way that you share things with me.
I never complain to you because you're my sweet.
But while I was sharing my happiness with you,
you were whining.
The exact same way that you whined when I was honest.
I was honest in saying I did not want to sleep with you anymore,
but I guess that doesn't matter.

I cried because you don't talk.
You don't talk unless it is about guns, trucks or ***.
I  wish you could speak to me with sweet gentleness
Of things that mean everything but mean nothing.
I want you to be smart.
I want you to be thoughtful.
I want you to be a romantic.
I want you to sing me a sinfully sweet lullaby.

I cry,
because I want to be blissfully happy.
Floor Feb 2019
She plays violin on her wrists
Sinfully beautiful symphonies appear on her skin
Like paper sheets her blood will flow
With eyes determined on the price
She watches the last bit of her soul seep out of her wounds
A lonely sound escapes her lips
The last lonely sound she'll ever make
Now she's in a different place
And replaced the violin for clouds
C Mahood Dec 2018
Listen kids I’ve got something to say,
Before he met Mrs clause, Santa was gay.

I suppose that makes him. Bisexual
He was also an intellectual.

He studied at the college of legends and myth
That’s where he met his love, Mr. Smith.

They met while studying invincibility
In the library, a place of true tranquility.

Before he had grown the big white beard,
He had acne and pox marks that people found weird

Not Mr Smith, he thought he was quite handsome
He said the moment they met his heart was held ransom.

They met every lunchtime and ate in the park
They discussed a love of Christmas and knew there was a spark.

Santa had wanted this since the moment he was born.
Someone to love, someone with the horn.

Two. To be precise on either side of his head.
It lead to lots of excitement and surprises in bed.

When both of them had graduated, diplomas in hand,
Santa went into the family business, Krampus joined a band

Like his father before him Santa was a toy maker
Whereas Krampus had become a notorious law breaker

When Santa was out testing toys in the rain,
Krampus was getting drunk and snorting *******.

But despite the distance they always made time
To meet at least once a month for cheese and wine.

One time. However, 5 years after they met,
They snuggled up together, enjoying every second they could get.

Krampus hugged him so tight, if only he’d known,
That Santa had to break some awful news of his own.

You see, to take over from his dad there were rules to follow,
This news was almost the hardest thing Krampus had to swallow.

The rules were quite clear, Krampus had to get the boot,
Santa had to marry a Mrs cause before he dawned the red suit.

Krampus couldn’t believe it, can’t the estate move with the times?
Were these really the rules or was Santa sick of his crimes?

Santa swore blindly that these were the things he had to do.
But he swore to Krampus “I’ll always really love you! “

Despite this heartfelt confession Krampus was pretty ******
He tried to push himself to his feet, but drunkenly he missed.

He slipped head first towards Santa who stood in his place.
His horns were sharp and pointed, stabbing Santa in the face.
“oh ****!”  he screamed “are you OK?” but Santa screamed in pain.
Both his eyes were bleeding red, fearing he would. Never see again.

Krampus rang his buddy from the ER that he knew,
Panicking he cried down the phone not knowing what to do.

He explained the situation not knowing what to say,
He had to rush Santa there quite fast, he had to use the sleigh.

There were no magic reindeer to pull the sleigh that night
So Krampus used a pack of wolves, and held on quick and tight.

They made it to the hospital hoping, No one saw them fly
Krampus tried to stay real strong, he didn’t want to cry.

But when Santa went to surgery to see what could be done.
Krampus balled his eyes out, he just wanted to run.

He stated all night in the waiting room with all his fingers crossed
He swore he would make it to to him, no matter what the cost.

Finally the tooth fairy gave him A happy nod.
Santa would Be fine for now. Krampus thanked his God.

He didn’t really believe in God, there isn’t one, he knew,
But in that situation it just felt the right thing to do.

When he went into visit and to say his apologies,
He found the door was locked, and Santa’s father held the keys.

“be gone you **** Demon, I think you’ve done enough!
Mrs clause has gone to Santa’s flat to empty all your stuff! “

Krampus tried to speak but Santa senior cut him off.
“you are not to see my son again, you honey smelly goth!

He has a big bright future, a loving faithful life ahead,
And I swear, over my dead body will you be back inside his bed!

Now get the hell out of here, don’t show your face again,
Go crawl back to the tree stump hole, that sinfully minging den! “

Krampus really had messed up, and took all the comments thick,
Santa had said his dad was old fashioned, but not that he was a total ****!

In anger Krampus left and swore to never love again.
He felt embarrassed and ashamed, that he was into men.

For years he lived a quiet life but never found his calling
Until one Christmas eve he saw a flying sleigh that started falling.

He ran as fast as his houves could to catch the falling fatty
His clothes were old and smelly, ripped and frayed and all round tatty.

Luckily he managed just in time to save the man from dying
But he was not prepared to see his long lost love, and started crying.

Both of them just stood and hugged, thier love was truly magic
They both hated the fact that the outcome would always be quite tragic.

“you saved my life, my Mr. Smith, I knew you were not bad.
Maybe now I can put in a word and big you up to dad? “
So that’s what he did, he called him up, then put the story in writing.
Santa senior said “the only time you should see Krampus is when you two are fighting!

Don’t you see son, you are good, and he is bad to the bone,
The devil wants him to destroy Christmas and sit on an evil throne.”

Kramus was destroyed again, depressed and quite distraught,
But Santa cheered him up again with a wonderful devious thought.

“ if I am the good Christmas spirit and you and the spirit of bad,
I’m supposed to make the children happy... Then you should make them sad!

That way every Christmas eve when you try to steal their things
I will he forced to fight you, from the obligation it brings!”

So from that day on they both played their parts,
They kept up the charade till they were both old farts.

Even to this day people speak about the war
Between the good St. Nick and the Krampus *****.

Every now and then children swear that they hear,
The fighting raging louder as Christmas eve draws near.

But trust me when I tell you That when the winter air is biting.
The grunts and moans you think you hear, is surely not them fighting.

Like Romeo and Juliet their love is tragically mental.
But not as bad as the morning after their Christmas motel rental.

Because both of them will play the role but grin from ear to ear,
When they think of the night of passion they have, in December every year.


Christopher Mahood
@thepanicrooms
A little bit of fun for the Winter solstice festival! "Yule" hopefully enjoy this silly story rhyme!
Payton Hayes Mar 2021
Resurrected, I arose
for mornings thick with lust
and love and caffeine and naked kisses
And again, when night came
I did too, and fell sweetly, sinfully  
prey to the small death
ushered in with a grand symphony
of your name
This poem was written in 2020.
Kelly EC Jul 2013
My dear friend received a letter from you.
A note written by a deceived elder,
Whose words were motivated by goodness,
Sent out of your pastoral duty.
But, you must be oblivious to the hate in your ink.
A warning,
An invitation,
To excommunication.

Excommunication.
The threat found on your paper,
Missing from the Bible,
And your Book of Mormon,
And your Doctrine and Covenants.
Appropriate for legalistic religion,
But the polar opposite of Christ.

Fornication.
She left her father and mother
And is united to him.     1
Before each other,
They knew no one else,
Promised to each other
Forever.
Reminiscent of Abraham and Sarah,     2
Isaac and Rebekah.     3
God doesn’t see certificates,
But committed love.
Can you?

Alcohol.
Noah made use of his vineyard,     4
And Jesus made wine from water.     5
Encouraged for ailments,     6
A blessing bringing joy,
Can become sinfully abused.
God can tell the difference.
Can you?

Tattoos.
If she cannot mark her body with ink,     7
You cannot cut hair at the sides of your head,
Or the edges of your beard.     8
Were the vegetables in your garden,
Or the fruit from the market,
Forbidden for three years,
Before you ate them?     9
All these ancient commandments,
Are found in the same chapter.
Jesus looks passed them.     10
Can you?

Gossiping.
You have heard of rules broken,
Number those proven.
Your ear leaned toward gossips,     11
As you rejected the woman slandered.
God sees the people behind their sin.     12
Can you?

Hypocrisy.
Woe unto hypocrites,     13
Charlatans,
Frauds.
You deny communion to her,
But did you do the same for your daughter?
Was she rejected when she birthed your grandbaby,
A *******?
Or was your daughter, like my friend,
Repentant,     14
Tired of being told who God is,
In the throes of figuring God out?
When you partake of communion,
Are you worthy?     15
Jesus allowed Judas to partake of His holy sacrament,     16
And invites us all.     17
Can you?

She loves Jesus,
To whom she prays,
Her boyfriend,
Who sleeps by her side,
Her friends,
Who she shares an occasional drink with.
The tattoo on her foot,
Reads “Love”
In calligraphy as beautiful
As the love in her soul.
Jesus sees this.
I hope you see it, too.

Love your God with all your heart,
Soul,
Strength,
Mind.     18
Love your neighbor as yourself.     19
We both are praying for her,
But I’m also praying for you,
To know the God of love,     20
Who is jealous for her,     21
And for you.
He wants you to love Him,
And He wants to love on you,
But your worship of religion is getting in the way.
Stop your adultery,     22
And run back,
Prodigal Son,     23
To your true love,
Christ.
There’s room at His table for a sinner like you, me, her, and all.
And our Jesus,
He,
Alone,
Writes the invitations.
You are not to review,
Stamp,
And mail them.
But only to accept and share the One He sent to you.

*

1 Genesis 2:24; Genesis 2:30 (Inspired Version)
2 Genesis 11:29; Genesis 11:18 (Inspired Version)
3 Genesis 24
4 Genesis 9:20; Genesis 9:27 (Inspired Version)
5 John 2
6 2 Samuel 16:2, Proverbs 31:6, Mark 15:23, Luke 10:34, 1 Timothy 5:23
7 Leviticus 19:28
8 Leviticus 19:27
9 Leviticus 19:23-24
10 Romans 3:23-26
11 Proverbs 11:13, 20:19, 26:20-22
12 Isaiah 43:25-26
13 Matthew 23:13
14 1 John 1:9
15 1 Corinthians 11:27
16 Matthew 26:24-26
17 1 Corinthians 11:28
18 Luke 10:27
19 Matthew 22:39
20 1 John 4:8
21 Exodus 20:5
22 James 4:4
23 Luke 15:11-32
You'd make a really nice submissive.
Oh, I can only imagine. You being blind folded & *******. Thoroughly depending on your senses to guide you.
To calm you.
As a feeling of adventure and potential danger lurks inside of you. You feel sinfully tempted. You feel bad.
You want to taste blood.
But you'd be willing to give into it. No?
Let yourself be dominated.
For the night. For the other. For oneself. For the moment. For the sin.
Think.
Not knowing where he would touch you.
What part of you will be blessed first?
Where would he settle and take refuge?
And until so you would eagerly wait for his gentle, soft and devilish touch upon your skin to devour you.
You would wait. Wouldn't you?
Addison Young Oct 2014
do you move through colors and shapes, and do you pass through entities unknown.
red, the color of blushing cheeks after flattery my body cannot control.
purple, the color of bruises painted sinfully upon skin, galaxies of broken vessels.
blue, the color of your eyes shaded by tie-dyed greens and yellows welcoming into the arms of your embrace.
black, the color of dark night skies spent silent among a lit herb.
pink, the color of full lips crowding visions of lust and love.
yellow, the color of sunbeams bursting through tree branches coming across your freckled cheeks.
rays of spectrum, shared glances and hope.
laughter and hushed voices through melodies of favorite bands.
overlooked conversations, and dimly lit rooms with stolen kisses and clothes shaven.
scents, as intoxicating as the peppermint melting my brain into pools of mush, due to the musk of your t-shirt hanging around my fragile bones.
whispers of good nights and murmurs of good mornings.
can this only be the beginning of such things?
Sam Miller Sep 2012
When you see her
walking down the street,
swaying those wide luscious hips,
you just know.

This girl
with her long cherry curls
and her icy blue eyes,
she’s the beauty and the beast all in one
sinfully delicious package.

This girl makes your heart
crash into your ribcage like a wrecking ball,
stopping you in your tracks
and stealing your breath away
like the succubus she knows she is.

This girl with full pink lips,
skin smooth as white marble,
and a stare that could paralyze and excite
all at the same time.

This girl promises beauty
but baby you’re gonna get
a lot more than you bargained for
if you try to cross this demoness.

This girl is your gorgeous nightmare,
horror wrapped up in a **** package
with a shiny red bow and stiletto heels.

With those curves in your hands,
thinking is out of the question.
There’s only passion, blind lust,
because if you let her go then
you seriously ****** up.

She’s everything you could ever want,
Begging and demanding
As she writhes underneath you and on top of you.
You never stood a chance.

This girl is a living breathing Greek goddess,
all *** and power and unimaginable beauty.
I cannot being to truly describe her,
Because as much as I hate to admit it,

She doesn’t exist.

She is mine,
my creation, my Eve.
Existing only in my fiction,
She is still very real to me.
She lives inside of me,
Breathing and speaking and loving and hating
And I just want to hold her close and keep her with me forever.
Kate Little Jul 2011
Sliding from the silky, satin sheets
Slowly she saunters to the terrace
And scans the sparkling, star-sprinkled sky
  
As slender arms loosely clasp her svelte, ******* swathed silhouette
So too her thoughts encircle her sweetheart
  
She smiles as she recalls their tryst...
  
          His strong embrace holding her safe and secure
          Lips that tease with nearness
          At last bestowing passion-soaked kisses
          Whilst hands slide up to her soft, supple breast
          And trace circles around her sensitive, cerise *******

  
She is lost now
Caught in the exquisite snare of sinfully-sweet reminiscences
Of two lovers seeking to please
And thirsting to be satisfied...
  
          Slow, tantalizing caresses gracefully ****** their souls
          Hearts, minds and bodies of two lovers now aroused
          Suspended over the precipice
          Oh, yes, such blissful anticipation
          And then … surrender
          Surrender to sweet, sweet ecstasy!

  
As she stands now on the circumference of sensual abyss
She sways slightly
A soft breeze strokes her sun-kissed skin
It whispers to her spirit and begins to sing a song
A song so enticing
So stirring
That small goosebumps rise and glisten
  
So once more she slips betwixt silky, satin sheets
2011
All Rights Reserved

Joel (Bear), your poem 'Sinfully Sibilant', partly inspired this from me!  Thank you.
helia Feb 2021
baby i'm your poison
and you're my antidote
a taste almost divine
sinfully saccharine sweet

raise me from perdition
with your heavenly lips
kiss me til there’s nothing left
but marks blossoming red

let's let go for a while
don't be shy and come closer
i promise i won't bite
but i'd love it if you did

darling just wait and see
we were made for each other
i'd love to see how well
those hands fit around my neck
taste me, try me.
nov 2, 2020
Hannah Mar 2014
There is no fantastical world in which civility between us can exist. Civility, of course, being perceived in the sense that we can coexist pleasantly, without a romance topped with jaded raspberries and peppermint liqueur.
After a generous amount of sneezing and crawling and crying in the moonlight with half embered cigarettes hanging from our dripping mouths, I saw this. A grievous vision of Hank Stamper clawing at my back end, a still-life embedded someplace dark and dank, a cradle so forgotten and filthy that only a mother woven from dirt-covered cloth could love it. We built some ridiculous, disgusting house and made love in it. Day in, day out.
In the end our urinary tract infections infected our kidneys and became fatal when paired with the dysentery. I will always remember your name paired with dysentery, my love.
I promised myself endlessly that I was laying in such a softer settlement without you. Your reckless lifestyle was grimier than mine and our paths collided and collapsed with validity, I was sure of that. I am sure of that. However, it seems my insistence that I recover from you, brings with it some kind of ****** up honor to be dealt your way. Should I write a song about you? No, I'd soon hear it in your trapeze act. Should I make a film about you? No, the lead would be sinfully attractive and further engorge your rather large head. Should I write a book about you? Should I? Have I? Can I? I doubt you would see the honor here. In fact, if you were to look for anything other than consistent misuses of punctuation in my writing, I feel sure you would find solace and comfort and silence would soon follow.
mark john junor Jan 2014
we started out in a
in a parking lot
with no shopping cart
look at us now
appeal to her desperation
for a moment in her sunshine's bravado
she dose not think beyond the moment despite my effort
i drink her in
and she is such sweet nectar
it is thinly disguised that she is no
snowbunny as she pulls herself from my bed
her deep rich tan only flavours my desires
as i pull her back in
her thick musky taste so intoxicating
flawless in her unique beauties
we lounge in the sun's dying breath
and quietly marvel at the skyscape of colours
she places casual hand on my arm
and i catch breath
isn't to be read into
but see that allure inspite
and with that desire lingering plunge slowly back
into her subtle skin
into the long sweet night of her lips
once again i float the rational
shes as smart as sinfully beautiful
but with a quickness
towers of the absurd fall under pretender's preface
she entangles me with the most sinister of **** laughs
and we spend the night deep in eachother again
by now you are very weary of hearing how much i adore her...but i believe that if i said it in a million ways in a million languages a billion times it just simply wouldn't be enough
Your lovely face
yielding my mirror;
two bluish eyes,
Waiting for my kiss
Your elegant neck,
framed within soft hair.
Your unpainted lips,
responsive to my breathe
You’re bursting *******,
sinfully for an embrace
each ****** thirsting
to my loving touch.

By Williamsji Maveli

www.williamsji.com
www.williamsgeorge.com
www.microthemes­.com
www.mavelinadu.com
Nupur Aug 2019
I know i am involved in so many sins
I know i am not worthy of forgive
You my Lord has seen me into pieces
I ll soon be turn into ashes

As a human i do mistakes
i do repeat with abundance of retakes
You have always hold my hand in trouble
I am at your feet and asking to get me out of this struggle

You my Lord always treat me like your own child
On each and every mistake, you punish me on time
You taught me a lesson upon my every fault
before you, my Lord, my life and my soul put at halt

The stars showed me the light
The hope and to make my future bright
After all the shadiness that I am been into
The heaven calls me to take a look of the sight

O lord! I may be no one for you
But I always thankful by showing my gratitude
You showed me the path and the hope pf ray
To deal with the problems which comes my way

You give me so much in my life
Love me, hate me while keeping my sins aside
The love that you bestowed upon me
Keep me spirit so high


The time when it was difficult to survive
I had no one at my beside
You took care of me whole heartedly
And show me the light that guide
Phil Riles Feb 2016
My spirit wants to do right, but the flesh is unwilling to comply. That's why it must die. Daily. Crucified. All the affections and lusts, crushed with the weight of his Spirit hear to comfort mine own until this mind disownes every thought that exalts itself against the one on the Throne. Adonai, El Shaddai, Elohim, thou most High, Prince of peace, never cease, to amaze, the Blood connected to the earth and awoke men out of graves/I refuse to be sinfully enslaved, hiding in dens and cavs like the ones his goodness tried to save...I understand you Paul, you did what you didn't want to and didn't do what you should have did, yet the Master forgives. I wanna live burden free, no hurt in me, I don't want to subconsciously hold on to the flair of dramatics, rejecting a life lived peacefully while repetitious requests prayed vainfully asking God to take the pain away yet rejecting his orders so the pain can stay. In a twisted way, some people depend on there own misery, no matter how much they complain about it. Because its either what they know best or all they know, and familiarity can be a mental, emotional and spiritual ******* that most...can't let go...well Lord im willing. I'm willing to let go of the past that you already have a long time ago. I'm willing to see myself through your eyes. I'm willing to allow you to turn this anger into joy, this easy irritability into long suffering, this pride into honor, false humility into the one we clothe in..im willing to allow all the pain the sting of rejection gave me over the years, to place shamelessly in your healing hands, im willing to give you the violin, that I've used to play the songs for every pity party thrown within, Upon personal request, while partly oblivious, to the world around me is dying in sin. Lord, continue to help me locate the man I was always suppose to be. Reveal him to me. Describe him to me. Develop me into him. He's been waiting for my embrace for too long. And I'm ready..to put away Childish things..
Shannon Jan 2015
I want each step to land my foot
tangled heather
ash and soot.
And lead to where the wicked go...
where the darling schoolgirls know
when to turn with redden hue
gasping their  intact virtue.
Yet I long my footfall down-
mossy sinfully buoyant ground.
Run to meet him by the stone
kiss him on it's granite bones.
And he'll swing me wide with wonder
pirate, he'll be, ravage. plunder.
I go where all the good girls shant.
all my christian vows recant.
Yes I will meet him by the river

and onward I keep
through the creeping myrtle, creep-
and the sinners sandbox
and painted ladies swings
(where I rest my chastity case)
that's covered in leather and ******* with lace.
Delight  
as I watch good girls gasp-
as I swing wide hips, wide.
Thier ****** ******* clasps.
And that night will give birth
to a wretched new way
I am wanton
and crafty
and
unwelcome at tables-where ladies
demure
and insist on "no more!"
and
need polite conversations
to endless relations.
I'll roar down that path
like a thundering herd,
like an air stream that carries the weariest bird.
I'm curved, I'm pillowed.
I'm chest out.
I'm willowed...
I'll have holes in my souls
all four of them dotted.
Or six of them spotted?
Like a cat's lives they'll feed
so that reaper, recedes.
It's this path, though, you see them?
The Glories
majestic.
Twined up the tree trunk
and my heart is arrested.
I'm put in the mind of those
sinewy women
and sin
comes in scent
where that glory blooms nightly
and clasp hold of
these moments
of recklessness tightly.

Sahn 1/12/2015
this one is still forming but thanks for sharing my work. check out my blog if you like my work.
For Selena & Justin

Sometimes...
When the heart
Is broken
And the spirit
Is dying
And love
Is fading
Overwhelming

Sometimes...
When the eyes
Are so blind
And the sun sets
On Paradise Lost
And Gilligan's Island
And the captain's
Forgotten  

Sometimes...
When the fragrance
Is a touch foul
And small dog
Walks away
With a big growl
Perfumed air
With wide smile

Sometimes...
When Silence
Is Golden
And harsh words
Are forgotten  
Never to be
Spoken again
Reawakened

Sometimes...
When gourmet tastes
Greasy spoonfuls
Mouth waters
Sinfully
Delightedly
Unexpectedly
Predictably

Sometimes...
When hands touch
Warmth ignites
Sparks fly
Fireworks
Starry night  
Vincent's soul  
Lost somewhat

Sometimes...  
Boy and girl
Love and hate
Song and dance
Fire and water
Coals simmering
On Summer Camp's fire
Waiting...reigniting    

Written by Richard Wlodarski

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