Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Annabel Swift Jul 2015
Your lips bleed
like the scarlet syrup of a
dark passion fondue;
two curly lines of red
peeking from behind
your hallowed veil,
and you,
you lay them upon
my neck,
my very body you hail
as your own.
This then, is like
a red petal falling on
alabaster
or a rose stained in blood
as I pull you closer to me
and together,
we drown in a pool of
crimson wine
you anoint
my lips with.
The taste of you
is like the tip of a sword
dipped in sparkling liquorice;
and our ******* becomes
the hypnotism
my tongue
slickly wrap around,
or perhaps,
the ****** of this
eyeless world.
We’re just like
diamonds sleeping on their
velvet cushions,
or illuminating puppets
showing the way.
Love, may you claim me,
till death do us part.
mike dm Jun 2014
We unfriend so easily --
mice clicking

Memories --
Just a bunch of ******* memes --
Nicely, slickly
spysgrandson May 2013
Picasso at McDonald’s  

super size my eyes--let the glare
of Pablo’s dead desires
burn my retinas, and  
indelibly engrave the golden arches
behind my drooping lids
they will be my rainbows,
with pots of dreams
to order at each end  
and fast food prophesies
slickly sliding down yelling yellow loops
through the endless blue sky    
inside your hallowed halls
the chopped souls of Guernica  
are invisible to our eyes
their stillborn screams don’t reach our ears
but their torment will be assuaged
by a Big Mac and large fries  
they will no longer hear
the shrill whistle
of the German’s falling shells  
the laughter of the children at play  
or the other sinking sounds
that get us through the day
Sisilia Feb 2016
You are his personal entertainment
His guilty pleasure.
Nothing is hidden from him.
Everyone fears him  not because of the stories that are told about him but
because he's knows your secrets,
He SEES them.
All your 'secrets'
All the ***** sins that are unforgivably unforgivable
those ***** little deeds that you've committed,
he knows all of them.
He watches from the darkness, he is always close.
Have you ever wondered about your shadow?
How it moves slickly by you?
Is it really 'your' shadow?
Come a little closer, i'll let you in on a tiny secret........
Its Him.
The darker the shadow the more secrets he has against you.
The more power he has over you.
He taunts you to do more evil so you wouldn't forget who holds the reins on your life.
Every one has two sides the good and the bad
its only a matter of which side you play with the most
its only a matter of who always aims to sit on top of the nice list
or who plays with the evil in the dark more..
*him* could be anything or anyone you imagine him to be..
My *him* happens to be a man i have forgiven but have never forgotten..
svdgrl Sep 2015
Today I am slickly coated
with the sheen of a long walk,
only holding hands with purpose;
the goal to find it.
The destination that holds promise
according to the latest yelp reviews-
promise worth remembering
while bearing the heat of the summer subways,
the morose and lonely feeling
of watching a couple cling to each other
as the trains swing our bodies around.
When the stench of the city streets-
the receptacles for those
who can't wait any longer,
invade our noses like they were home.
The promise that morphs into ringing
in my head when my stomach grumbles
next to the carts on the sidewalks
with the burning flesh they call halal meat,
smells warm and familiar
sharing shish kabob kisses and chicken knishes,
but I've left those days behind me.
Now I'm scouring the streets of Brooklyn,
for that new chic creperie sans animals,
things with faces, or friends if you will,
screaming "Find me!"
whilst dodging the heady scents of Popeye's,
and bacon egg and cheeses,
meat markets, fish markets, bright moving ads,
of women ******* clad eating burgers.
Would you like lox or sturgeon with that bagel?
and when I do get to the little mom-and-pop
of a hole-in-the-wall cafe,
I think of the carnivorous brothers and sisters
that have had the meatballs to join me.
The countless nights I've had to explain
where I get my protein from,
that yes, I can eat pizza.
And no, it's not a travesty
that I want to give up cheese.
Because the real travesty is in the this country's handling
of living things, and by animals- I mean all of us.
And carnivorous brothers and sisters,
when you're feeling threatened and defensive- and you've got
guilt and entitlement coursing through your
friend-fed veins and thus you claim,
We're shoving our vegan, vegetarian, pescetarian
efforts down your throats.
Think again and know that we're only doing the best
we can to help what we believe in.
That we eat and live
with purpose and promise in mind.
Real women can eat vegetables too.
You can take vegetarians to barbecues.
Trust me, we're good at co-existing,
Are you?
Janet Li Nov 2016
self love and affirmations
are so cringeworthy to me --
that's mean, i know.
the perfect depiction of
schaudenfraude.
but it's so needed.

sometimes this space feels too small
with no more balcony
you blow smoke directly in my face
stain our ceiling fan black
give me a contact high
while i try to multitask on five
things at once,
unsuccessfully,
ever more unsuccessfully.

i've lost all focus.

i just want a clean bed,
soft sheets,
a sink free from ***** dishes
and every manner of walking and
flying insect
-- this constant infestation.

i just want clean air,
to breathe,
bikes that don't break and
don't get stolen.
shoes that protect my feet
from the grime that slickly coats
the sidewalks of LA black.
shoes that are also pretty.

i don't have any of this.
money, money, money
i'm always crying over you.
i'm sick of your ****,
but i'm forever bound to you.
and you treat me cruelly
taunt me with everything i can't have.

"joke's on you my friend,
you better guess again,
cause everybody's gotta pay their way"

"death is easy, life is hard"
Alan McClure Mar 2015
Oh my
how they flap and slither
shades of shades of
ghastly crassness

Haven't harnessed
their atoms' fickle spins
spilling, instead,
through the strong and wise and deserving
befouling their blood

Gulping and gaping their own small slice of evil
while we will guard ours
in cages of guilt and fantasy

Spill then
spill slickly,
sick, stupid spectres
You strengthen my bars
beyond imagining
PK Wakefield Aug 2010
4
discussing with friends they,re eclectic noggins bobble suddenly
slowly quick the wagging of tongues juxtaposed to startled teeth
in rhythmic ques they pour daft prophecies in hideous giggling
we talk and amble amiably on every topic odoring and tepid shifting
slickly

it's easy and the sun frails and we joust winking verbs and nouns and and
or we entertain electric chaos screens bulging distended growls of death
or cinema or. outside it's raining, beautificly a synonym for damp patterring
of a 1,ousand tiny feet and plopping uncertainly violent puddles staggering
and the iron weight bears heavy on the hills dimpling the hips of earth
or we are static for a few and hours we make goodbyes and promises
of recurrence we,ll never keeps the night our tired bodies as we make
to the cold metal leather bucket seats and outside it's muttering rainfully beauty...
JW Carter Oct 2012
I did my dance, I gave to you
The satin ribbon from my shoe
And now through my shoe it won’t lace
Nothing to hold me into place

For weeks I pondered on this choice
with fears too subtle to be voiced
Wondering if I’d given away
the thing that made me not to stray

You used this bow I’d kept for me
To tie me down, discipline me
Created puppet strings you’d lift
You made me dance with you, …

In the aftermath that night
I’d come to know every mom’s fright
And come the dawn you were, I see
Compelled to advertise your deeds
You tied the string around my head
To show off what you’d done in bed
You claimed it made me strong and pretty
Shame your claim wasn’t quite witty
Enough to fool me, they saw through me
No one lets girls who’ve been had truly
Free from perpetually being red
You won’t believe what they had said.

My satin bow became a noose
You’d wrapped it tight, I couldn’t loose
(en) it so slickly
I felt sickly
Every time I had you with me
I wish you’d just leave me alone
I threw you out, and changed my phone
(number) and left you
Called for rescue
Joined the show as I was meant to
Acknowledged everybody’s doubts
Was granted one chance, or be out.

And so I went hoping no change
Would affect my place on the old stage
They looked at me and said it’s fine
That I could still belong in line
Missing my shoes since they'd no bows
To cross themselves in neat-pulled rows

I took a step, onto the tile
The other dancers in a file
But I stood there in my bare feet
And I instead was shown a seat.
Brent Kincaid May 2015
So far you are good at pollution
And other pocket lining resolutions.
You look at graft as a noble institution
While you work to undo the constitution.

No matter, it is our geese that are cooked
As long as you have pricey vacations booked
Don’t miss any vote-buyer’s finger crooked
As long as the very richest fish are hooked

You quickly learn to so slickly lie
While looking people in the eye
We’d be better if you said goodbye
But you don’t so we just sit and cry.

And as you ruin all of our credit
You take our Social Security and bet it
And it’s our fault because we let it
And then when you steal it, we forget it

But your fingerprints on the knife in the back
Proves to everyone you are all off of the track
Everybody is busy giving you nothing but slack
Like all of us are some kind of lobbyist hack

It is we who have to watchdog your legislation
We have to stop this lethal voter hesitation
The moment the crooks come up for elimination
We must vote them out or there is no restoration

This free ticket to rob us can’t last forever.
Someday the people will all band together
And you will find out quickly whether
America is wise enough to pull that lever.
Shawna Renea Apr 2013
Your touch, a thousand amp wattage
pulsates me into partial paralysis
Our kiss makes me feel like a
slickly, sweet tongued succubus
winged with wicked truth
brings my devilish inclinations deep
down in my core and cuts to the closest
undulations of my undisputed desire

©ShawnaRenea
Mike Hauser Feb 2016
is it true that the way she moves
is a tribute to the 60's groove

flower power out of pure delight
body paint underneath black light

on most days you will find
she's with Jefferson on an Airplane flight

following a rabbit down a hole
saying Grace as she Slickly goes

she's mellow in a yellow sense
hippie in her happenstance

psychedelic in a Asbury breeze
parking it where'er she please

yes i think that it's all true
that she's a tribute to the 60's groove
GaryFairy Nov 2013
I hope you try my brand new trick
tricking the mind with words so slick
slickly lining up lines that click
clicking together like a tock to a tick
ticking like a clock with a kick
kicking you with rhymes so quick

quickly flowing rhymes in time
timing is set by the design
designed by my own mind
mindless poetry is easy to find
finding a new way to connect a line
lining up words until they shine
I suggest this form for new rhymers. It's way easier than it looks. If you try to write a quantum loop, or want my rules, just let me know.
PK Wakefield Sep 2010
it was slowly hideous and more. the vapid skull was fragile
mucous glistening ostensibly of nasal passage and a flagrant
gesture mounting swiftly every coming brief second and
fornicating methodically minute transmissions of air of repugnant
lungs.
the heaving damsel broached or slippery tousled follicles limp
in arrogance foaled softly on her scalp. i maybe was and she
new. the sport of delicious fresh cluttered blood plump and
detestable in beneath the sallow rubber husk rubbing slickly
on the small walls particularly.
a
the. a(shade of yes(dribbles when the smacking rinds of lips
bubble sudden noise in. and a. a and. she smothers the babe
of silence in putrid vocal aberration fetid slop of words. temporarily
she is. speaking quickly and inviting me to the back little room
to weigh and measure large and pale the vestige of my i. take me sit
me in another waiting. another room of waiting. waiting. waiting

waitingwaitingwai"hello I'm Dr.Hanson"
Alan McClure Nov 2016
Will you be the German
who is tutting through the shutters
as the trains roll by?
Will you be the Christian
busy ticking off the reasons
you can shut your eyes?
***** the left, ***** the right
this is everybody's fight
and we're battling the evil in our hearts
It's a long road to hell
but we know the journey well
and a hatred of the strange is where it starts.

Will you be enchanted
by the pretty little whispers
of the self-made man
Strutting on the scaffold
of the skeletons he shackled
as he made his plans?
Well his dazzling election
is a clever misdirection,
builds a figurehead to follow or defeat
Still whenever evil comes
braying trumpets, banging drums
it's the likes of you and me that keep the beat.

See our little kingdoms
slickly built to keep the guilt and trouble
out of range
Mastering the darkness
simply saturates the masses
with a fear of change.
We cajole, we corral,
who's against us, who's our pal,
Who's the sacrifice to calm the raging seas
Tides will rise, tides will fall
breakers burst against the wall -
It's our terror that will bring us to our knees.

Each of us is given
just one minute and a million choices
every day
Struggle for the love
or love the struggle
of the jungle hunter gone astray
wicked wishes crack the whip
comfort loosens our grip
and a black and hungry vulture takes the air
Every road goes up or down
we can climb, or we can drown -
be the beast - or be the angel, if we dare.
PK Wakefield Oct 2012
i(by 2or3)simple fingers untighten

                 SNoW

quickly into rills of gushing and
lips slickly shine grinning violently

                                                and

a­lso by ribbon of quaking genially
oral fumbling deftly shiver)bring

lewd SPRING into chaste WINTER
between hairless trees making flowers
Yenson Jan 2019
I drove it in with hard solid passion
her whole body shuddered and I felt her thighs
parting further, yet my hot sword again heaved internally
and filled out more in that velvet tunnel, making it even tighter

she moaned, oh she moaned and wrapped folded arms
round my shoulders firmly pulling me even closer.
I paused to savour my girth throbbing in wet hot tight jelly
a million nerves ending tingling to tingles from sugar walls
a warmth like no other enveloped our bodies rising to our brains
my length was hitting a yielding ending making her scream more

lifting my hip I started firing ions and sweet sensations
as she lifted her firm solid hips to meet my thrusts
a fire dance of immortals, a duo speak of raw energy
slickly intermingling in a fire pit of molten hot candy
she moaned and groaned, simpered, howled and groaned
and our bodies grind and booped, and again and again

taken over by a compulsion to push and pull and seek deeper
she drew me in and I lengthened with every push and trust
I reached soft ends only to push further and find a little
more yield and a sweet velvet glove is polishing my sword
while hot whispers fling out endearments, or moans quietly

my tiger, wild untamed, claimed my body and growled
loudly, bearing his teeth as sweat ran down my forehead
I was in my stride, the rhythm was in motion in the ocean
my fevered brain told me, make this a long ride
give it to her like she's never had it before.
I can go on for as long as it takes, I answered back

I bent my head and my full lips found a ******
I need a drink from that full circling soft balloon
she raised her face and slipped warm tongue in my mouth
her hand behind my neck held me firmly locked in sweet kisses
her hips moved in unison with mine and slippery sounds played
I was lost in ecstasy, my sword throbbed in full beaming glory

Suddenly her hip became stronger than mine
she slammed into mine and started screaming
she moved with faster tempo and i felt a pulsating grip below
that started attacking my hard sword, squeezing, pulling
I had to change gears, I drove even deeper, she was flaying
and threshing, her thighs trapping my thighs tightly
Oh..oh...its multiple she hissed wildly, come with me
come with me...oh..come together with me

My hips rose higher, and then higher some more.
your command is my wish.... sweet lady, I whispered
I put the engine in gear five, revved the pistons
and slammed on the tottle, I was motoring in Monaco now
I heard a banshee screaming somewhere. I heard myself howling
while the sweetest fire started scorching my sword
and sipped out a torrent of high octane molten hot honey
our naked bodies clashed, medged, disengage and reconnected
in an exotic freestyle wrestle, yet below we were glued in sync
a blast, the big bang with stars and glitters and a vice like grip
it seemed to last forever and I swear I heard celestial choirs then I slowly descended from cloud nine and then the rolling slowed down.

I hope this is just a pitstop my brain hissed at me, I am ready
to go again, please note, brain added.

Please let my lovely lady at least recover a little, I chided brain.

She clung on to me, we were drenched in sweat
she was shaking, shuddering and trembling all in one
then tears fell from her eyes mingling with sweat on her face
her cheeks were flushed, she glowed red. tousled hair fanned
her face in wet strands, she looked ever so beautiful

She gazed into my eyes, stroking my wet cheeks
she was still panting as I was too
You are amazing ...she said, I do love you so much, she added..her hazel eyes sparkling,..... You are simply the best!

Resting a palm on her full soft right breast, I blew her a kiss.

You are beautiful and you make me amazing.... I replied.
I love you too, my darling.........
Sweet memories, why all should be done to isolate this animal........
Our women are not safe when this monster is let loose.....hahaha
To the good times!!
No Name Oct 2012
I knew a man who looked like an egg.
His shoulders,
they did this odd thing where they
drooped.
He was a rather droopy man.
His shoulders
sort of melted into his body like
those eyeballs in “Raiders of the Lost Ark”
sliding slickly down into a congealed mess.

It was worse after he shaved his beard.

There was this flabby bit of skin that the beard had previously concealed.

It connected his chin to his chest,
smudging his entire body
into this perfectly oval shape

that rested upon chicken legs.

You know that question
that overused
“What came first, the chicken or the egg?”
question?

I think I found the Queen Mother of them both.
Eriko Aug 2015
my complexion darkened
by that skeletal wrist wrought with rust
dusted blood of what used to run  
an impression of who I used to be

strumming the strings to my spinal chord
that blissful music a sweet morphine
to still those poisonous lips registered
to the skittered voices taking refuge in my head

the morphine doesn't always hold
I search for that sweet spot too withdraw
the shrill eccentricity screeching I cannot suppress
the silly frigid air protrude with a single glare

breaths puff and heartbeats escalate
as eyes are met--green and brown
hazel to the cerulean blue  
the tepid synchronization of similar frequencies

how the night glimmering lights
illuminate the graffiti of complicated shadows
simmer into a wilting tilt of sorrowful flowers
how the roses are drowned and never to fill

how the match in my chest lights anew
I have to do my best to keep it alive
caress it but don't get burned by it
I can never see too far into the future

but I can only know what I am
off of glare at this present precision
how will I ever know who I am
if I cannot see two feet surrounding

alluring this flame through
the sky-scraping scent of night
delicate to the visionaries too steep
as the head begins to pound out of its keep

avoid those dark corners
I once used to brood
take a break on a flight of stairs
and gaze out the flashes blurring by

keep my teeth in my cheek
the tongue will slip out sharp and cut someone
keep the thoughts from rolling slickly off of it  
the top of my head is not a good place to stand
SøułSurvivør Mar 2017
A Story of Scientology and the
Mental Health System Connection

THE BILLION YEAR CONTRACT

So I had this boyfriend. I don't really know *why
I stayed with him. Except that he was fairly intelligent. He left scientology not longer after I left, I discovered later. But, truth be told, he was NOT attractive to me. He had a lisp. THAT wouldn't have bothered me so much, but he couldn't dance either.... LOL! That was, for some reason, important to me in a man. Always has been. He also had a jaw like a steamshovel and eyes like poached eggs. Oh, well...

Anyway,  he was very excited about a do that was happening up in Phoenix!  There was a brand new ORG!  Scientologese for organization, especially a high echelon one. This Org was the TOP at that time! The Flag Land Base! Located in a once-glamorous resort town, Clearwater, Florida. A place of sugar sand beaches and tropical beauty! There was an Orientation going on, and he wanted me to go with him...

That was the most Fateful night of my life. This FOT (Flag Orientation Tour) was actually a recruitment drive. For the infamous Sea Organization!

When I arrived I was impressed. It was in a conference room at a nice hotel. All the materials they handed me were slickly printed. The only thing that bugged me were the uniforms. The folk not in suit jackets even wore lanyards! That warning sign in my stomach should have told me.... RUN!!! AS FAST AND FAR AS YOU CAN!!! But did I listen? NO! And that was a mistake that cost me 24 precious years of my life. Golden years. Years I could have been in school. College and university. Instead I worked as a peon slave for that CULT. Then 20 years stolen by virulent targeting. TRAGIC!

I stayed. And I was lulled into a false sense of security. The speeches by the various "big-wigs" of FLB didn't start till 9 PM. And lasted till 10:30! Their voices were stern yet sonorous. Hypnotic. They told of the importance and "nobility" of the Sea Org. And the very PINNACLE of importance was the Flag Land Base! in balmy and beautiful Clearwater! Where the BEST and most RESPECTED "auditors" and "trainers" took the adherents of Scientology to the most advanced stage of spiritual growth... OT VIII. SCIENTOLOGY WORKS! YES! YOU, TOO, CAN REACH NIRVANA!

What a bunch of HORSESH-T!!!

Anyway. These guys and gals began to look glamorous to me! With their uniforms and scrambled eggs on their hats...

Then the real kicker. "THEY WERE OUT TO CLEAR THE PLANET. And little miss Cathy Jarvis could be a PART of this Noble Cause. That was it. I bought it. Hook. Line. And SINKER.

Even the hard, pockmarked face of the recruitment officer, nor her beady black eyes, could deter me. I was sleepy by that time, and hardly noticed the Contract I signed was for A BILLION YEARS...

I could LEAVE the "Podunk" town I lived in. Go first to spectacular LOS ANGELES... then to...

*... A NEW LIFE in balmy CLEARWATER FLORIDA!!!
If you haven't read Parts I, II and III PLEASE do so. This is a book about how scientology used mind control to destroy my life. The lives of hundreds, perhaps thousands of people in mental institutions and even PRISONS may be at stake. Scientology uses mind control techniques to make people appear INSANE. THEY DID IT TO ME.
Paul M Chafer Jan 2014
I used to zip, round
Little School corner.
Metal sparking from the road.
Throttle wound back
For a swift attack:
Excitement on overload.
The brave foolishness of youth,
Slickly defying, gravity’s truth.

I used to roar, round
Young-man’s corner.
Tyres squealing in the night.
She’d buck an’ slide,
Giving a rough ride:
My experience holding her tight.
Pulling through, going on our way,
Looking forward, to yet another day.

I used to charge, round
Middle-age corner.
Knee scraping along the ground.
Holding my breath
Kissing, cold, death:
My fear becoming unwound.
Somehow, I gathered her sweetly up,
And continued drinking, from life’s cup.

Nowadays, I never know,
What’s around the corner.
My biking days are long gone.
I don’t get my thrills
From near-miss spills,
And the years roll on, and on.
We travel a straight highway, so it seems,
But me! I’m still cornering, in my dreams.

© Paul Chafer 2014
Written for BBC Radio Sheffield and broadcast on the Rony Robinson show.
Annabel Swift Mar 2015
I wanted to show the secretarial assistant
the mashup, parody skit of the grumpy cat snoring under a
lampshade
but resisted for the fear she might think me strange
I am very lonely
Yesterday the girl in my team replied my email
with gnawing, jagged words that tapped on my skull
about how my prep materials belong to the basement
shelves of a blank, barren attic
and how the world would be a useful place
only without me
in barbed, lofty italics
that slickly slices open my skin
Perhaps she is correct
for my social life is the bluntest thumbtack in a drawer
like a black hole ******* me into the hollowness at the pit of
my stomach
I sometimes say
"I want to change the world"
but really, if words could ****,
all I want is to write poems all day
with my face a moving canvas for animated poems
like razors, stabbing into her black-widow lips
or a hero slamming his fist
handsomely into the villain's chest
as she mouths "you're no good",
once again.
Erin Kay Jun 2013
God save me from left and right.

A hundred decisions and revisions--
I never want to cry,

I want to swell up on the treacherous surf that betrays me.

May each drop of saline-sympathy
Melt back into eyeball-oblivion,
Creep slickly down my throat,
And escape hereafter through my ten toes.

But too many of them I have banished this way.

Once they merely wet the soles of my feet,
Callous from a million paths undiscovered.

Now,
They whisper terrible things in my ears,
Terrible things:
They whisper

Until my lungs grow so full of their sound they

pop
and leave me
an empty woman
chin-deep
in the satisfied grey ocean I once refused to admire.
JWolfeB Jul 2014
In elementary school you learn about the importance of the 8 parts of speech. That with these essential bits and pieces of the English language you can grammatically slay dragons, build empires upon prepositional phrases, and verbally split wigs with hammering conjunctions.

Spitting flexible adjectives in general directions with a chance that someone might listen. I wish you could still listen.  I want to tell you. Verbalizing verbs with vicious vernacular. I shipped it. Wrecked it. Mauled it.

I want to fix it. I can't. I'm waiting. For the day I can hug you again. To apologize for the lack of complete. In life you complete stuff. Like when your mother tells you that you can't quit clarinet in the 5th grade, because once you start something, you finish. We never finished.

You left before we could complete. I didn't say goodbye or even hello. I guess I could blame it on pronouns. I could say well she didn't let me know, he was lost in his words. We didn't want to intrude on the walls they built with words that I never spoke. But without them I would be so much better off.

Or That we need to talk. We need to figure my **** out because some days this iceberg set of lungs I have, only melt when I don't need then to. So pass through me. Across the tremendous skin across my body in order for me to feel again.

The skin is tucked under this hard shell I learned to build after being poked all too often. Poked with things like goodbyes or when I can't tell time on analog clocks. Numbers are hard to compute when all I see is you. I want to quickly get over the slow process of slickly sliding into a hole I'll never figure out.

I'm in a directional pull towards who knows where with nothing but my brain space. We all know how dangerous things get in there. Like that time, when I was 7, I was convinced you were kidnapped by the bandit in my dream. Sleeping is hard these days.
Shrinking Violet Dec 2014
To the Victorian poets of Decadence:

I love you, you who conquered lands unknown,
spread diseases, plagues full-blown;
you who revelled
in the unbearable lushness of being
sensuous and decadent, kings
of insidious words, slipping sweetly,
sliding slickly
into the narrow channels of the outraged public brain.

Ah how I love you, you who exhilarated
in deep despair; woe to the nightingale immortalised!
Who yet found meaning in dark emptiness,
rallying 'round with the cry of 'Art for art's sake!'
And so you, bridled with emotion, eat your cake,
fuming with bright, bitter melancholy,
never gaining the intimacy
and restfulness you so craved.

I think I love you because I understand you,
you who search relentlessly through
the victorious squalor of life that will not cede
control to your grasping hands
but jostles greedily to conquer virtuous lands.
Run away Prudence, Chastity and Grace!
Fall to your knees, hang your head, hide your face,
let shame overtake you, for Faith is a cuss word, you've decided.

And so, you arrogant men who surrender
to the hedonist's depraved desires, you pleasure seeker,
dearest sybarite, no mere voluptuary,
You whose gilt-edged poetry tongues my heart,
whose heady sensitivity makes me start,
and long for the things of the world I should not cannot want,
I love you unto madness, to distraction, to a slant-
ing of morals, to giving in and giving up.

I fall, a long way down.
This is something I wrote a long time ago when I was studying the Romantic movement and came across the Aesthetic / Decadent movement + their poetry, and realised that man, were they confused and so restless. All the same, there's something very tempting about their world views.

"Many Victorians passionately believed that literature and art fulfilled important ethical roles. Literature provided models of right behaviour: it allowed people to identify with situations in which good actions were rewarded, or it provoked tender emotions. At best, the sympathies stirred by art and literature would spur people to action in the real world. The supporters of aestheticism, however, disagreed, arguing that art had nothing to do with morality. Instead, art was primarily about the elevation of taste and the pure pursuit of beauty. More controversially, the aesthetes also saw these qualities as guiding principles for life
...
The word (decadence) literally means a process of ‘falling away’ or decline. In relation to art and literature, it signalled a set of interlinked qualities. These included the notion of intense refinement; the valuing of artificiality over nature; a position of ennui or boredom rather than of moral earnestness or the valuing of hard work; an interest in perversity and paradox, and in transgressive modes of sexuality.
- See more at: http://www.bl.uk/romantics-and-victorians/articles/aestheticism-and-decadence#sthash.6Nd31ZkA.dpuf"

"Out of my league, I have birds in my sleeves
And I wanna rush in with the fools"
—"Squalor Victoria", The National
Stella Stardust Feb 2017
What I would say, if I dare
I'd say that life is to be lighter
Death a mere path to something else
That we do not know, et all

Pity on those who think,
But do not know.
Salt on those who know,
But do not think.

Find somewhere in between

Where buds can blossom
Without hesitation, and
Minds can shift -
Without resignation

Let harmony carry our thoughts.

Pursuasion is the worst of sins
For those who slickly speak
In tongues of myth- that
Whisper fictitious whims

Doubt is less and leaning
For those who hang heads low
And talk of maybes and almosts
Without a chin to spare

Find somewhere in the middle.

To know now what You feel
Dont limit powers -where-
In these small hours
We have one life span

Shed upon our small existence
Knowledge and Love
Openness and Kindness
Who knows what is above?

Let's live Life now,
it IS all we know
So let it be, as is
Dream, Create, Learn and Grow

Find something you can give.
Kush Mar 2016
There’s a certain sweetheart I find to be on my mind
She confuses my feigned confusion with a heart’s protruding contusion
I’m simply a puppet master pulling strings
A singular audience for whom the Devil’s opera sings

I’m sick of the “hold on’s” and “baby, wait’s”
Spent too much time sorting through prospective bunk mates
I’ve started to dine in rooms lined with fright
Looking behind fate’s telescope to admire love from hindsight

I’ll dance in ****** subways for the pay checks of a busk
Bathe slickly and solely in bottled, manly musk
She avoids I with eye sockets that turn sharper than most crotch rockets
Our naughty escapade’s prequel simmers for its pending sequel

No earthly fawn will ever string this cold-hearted man along
I’ll make a splendid entrance in the home of my prey
Oh hey, cue the gong!
For the lucky gal on my mind:

You’ll get your head lopped off free of charge
Just as long as my ship’s able to enter the barge
I’m a wild thing chock to the teeth with bling
A diamond ring, golden chain, my favorite knife encrusted with pain

You’ll see the error of lengthy relationships
Become the chalice of lust from which true romance sips
******* lips now for they’re best served chilled
Feel the smeared screams of all the dames I’ve killed
M Corless Feb 2015
This is it:
it’s the slow-fast conversion of my brain matrices in scaffold supporting
the connection between “good” and the scent of your sweat
the swift relay from my skin through my mind back to nerves
ending in your arms; the parts of me you colour rose
it’s the speed variation in the pump of your hips; bone connects bone
shock connects shock, spark connects spark, connects and cascades
the viscous strokes of my hands against your back as you, I
it’s sighing, strikingly loud
it’s enveloping the sound of you

stick and stuck, staring out loud, divine
measures taken to absorb the churning warmth of you
in and out: breathing and stroke
the wire compilation of your hair beneath my fingers
it’s
glazing your gaze until you’ve started falling forward to
capture my sighs/breaths/moans/cries inside your own
vehicle; it’s slow seconds scraping my thoughts while you crawl
the strong strokes you press into my memory
the cusses that slither slickly out my mouth to meet your ears, relay to your
nerves
it’s the excess breath I waste on passing my messages on to you
the feedback loop, in and out
the rhythmic species we become
the invisible lines we draw, remaining afterward for too little time
making love to the sight of you, the sounds of the stereo background
loosening your tension, uncoiling your starched landscapes
the magic of being ethereal in a concrete room
Trevon Haywood Aug 2016
Resurgent greens and stronger hues
combined within the colours in-between
will spring again, the reddish brown
has nearly gone and all the silver
greys erased in darker shades
that shine with slickly natured stains
after the gentle, gentle rain.

Clouded skies unite and demonize
the dry and dusty plight of days of brutal
beating sun and scathing wind,
the thin veneer is quickly peeled
and puddle-swamped in bloodied muddled
swirls of coloured slushy earth
that tinge the tracks of heavy wheels.

The welcome cold at first conceals its
damp and chilling steel, and in the icy
shades of night the frigid bite ignites
less welcome sentiments until the wrap
of insulation seals the warming heat,
sanctifies the stolid feet and frigid toes
with subtle sweep of warming blood.

And in the morning when the sun returns
to claim the earth the mist surprises, rising
unabashed and clean again to grace the
nascent waiting skies after the rain.

by Ivan Donn Carswell. 8/16/2016.
ponny jo Sep 2014
The calming air flowed through me in waves, I tried to avoid the feeling, in vain. I held fast to now crumbling walls and wondered shakily what may come in sentences ahead. I peered through the lattice and somehow left my castle unguarded, looking around at the feel about. In a **** they were upon me like the beasts with drool sticking slickly to the fur round their maws. Was this another lesson by fire, why must I become listlessness in the hours held by witches.
K-ROB May 2020
Steve
April 29, 1967-October 7, 2018
Miss You Buddy

No sunset in this park today.
But of course not, for today is your birthday.
Everywhere I look, all I see is grey!

The Angels are weeping so we don’t have to; that’s not what you would want.
You would want us to share our memories and trust me I have 4 pages front and back,
AT LEAST!

You were taken too soon, no time to adapt
So unexpected and you were the happiest I’d seen you
With Ivan home and Emil good, and Jackson to fill the dull moments
“Action Jackson”, that’s what you called him
And so did my Papa Dale

You loved that he loved music,
You wanted to teach him to play catch.
You were making progress, taking steps

I miss your loyal, honest and witty ***
Oh,and I started studying numerology!
You’ll never guess your number!
#1
But I’m sure that comes as no surprise
You would have loved it!!!

Hope you are up there watching baseball, drinking beer, listening to music,
and telling stories about your family
with your old military pals!
I miss you dear friend
I miss your home, it was my 2nd
No judgement ever
We all had our ****,
Different days, different times
But we rallied together to help, and have a good time
You and I never fought except maybe for a second
We playfully fought about baseball
You were a die hard Cubs fan,
and I was team Cards!

You were getting back on track,
on your way to work
No way is that fair
I miss you dear friend
Your stories, your humor
You making fun of Blair slickly,
us laughing til we cried
I miss your heart, you’re real, you’re true
FAMILY WAS EVERYTHING
and the rest, music, military, beer,
baseball, laughing, and Laura
You were a simple man
You knew exactly who you were at all times
That I always admired
You thought you knew it all; you probably did!
I miss kicking back people watching on the front porch or music in the garage!

Miss your stories, your humor, your strong will
And that 2nd place I thought of as home.

Loved your dad when he was here and loved both Emil and Ivan instantly upon meeting
I hope your kids know if they need anything, to call
You stepped up for Jackson,
That really says it all!

I miss you buddy, til next time...
I raise this beer
One of my best friends passed away too soon, and I wrote this poem for him on his birthday
Muck monster Mar 2016
Cool sheets press against her spine
The sluggish fan does little to shift
The thick air smelling of musk and pine
As silver moon rays struggle to get through the rifts

Windows sealed shut as if to retain in the room
The scent of him lingering in old shirts laid bare
His sweat on pillows and his pinewood perfume
Clinging onto the small bed they used to share

Slipping into her self, into memories so gripping
When the sun shined bright even in a storm
Wishing to dive through the photo clippings
Like portals to a past of kisses so sweet and warm

And run into his arms, feel his smile on her neck
Have his arms slickly wraped around her waist
Pushing troubles into the distance till just specks
Freely dancing to the rythym of hearts that raced

Now all that's left are the ashes and dust
Black clothes resting on this haunted floor
The stench of death seeping through the rust
Her begging to just whisper his name once more
Destiny Berry Mar 2019
i’m feeling like i need you. i’m feeling like i’m craving every inch of you from top to bottom. i’m feeling like you’re my only ****** desire right now. i want you. i want your weight pressed against mine, i want a trail of soft kisses on my skin leading down my body. and when you come across my neck, stay there for awhile...there’ll be no need to rush this time; i’m not going anywhere. bury your face into the side of my neck and let your tongue run mad. **** it, lick it, bite it. and don’t stop until you’ve left your mark on me. my eyes will flutter to the back of my head, my hands will wave frantic, not knowing where to place themselves simply because the feeling you’ll be giving me will be so pleasurable. tilt your head so that your ear is by my lips; i’d want you to hear each moan become more shaken, more intense, louder. and when you’ve finished with that & left me with nothing but a puddle between my legs, gently take my face and kiss me. kiss me like you’ve been wanting me to shut up for the past 10 years. leave my lips smooth from your rough lip bites, french kiss me as if you and i were made in paris. i’d challenge you to a twirl session, your tongue battling mine and let’s see if you could keep up. kiss me passionately but aggressively, kiss me so good that you make me forget about everything other than that very moment. i’d want you to ever so slickly slide your hand from my face down to the inside of my thighs and began to rub on me, rhythmically. i want you to feel up on me and kiss me at the same time. when i feel that the time is right i’ll guide your hand to the center of my body, a gesture i’ve been yearning for at this point. immediately, you’d feel the heat from inside my pants and can’t resist rubbing my **** in an upward downward motion. not too soft, yet not too rough. then circular, counter-clockwise and all that. you’d slid from irresistible lips back down to my neck intentionally wanting to hear me moan and gasp your name, once more. lower and lower i’ll feel your fingers crawl before i gasp out. you’re in me. my temptation has now become my reality. i’d feel the pressure down below, as you’d feel my warmth, my wetness. that repeating squish sound will make you whisper out, “ *******’re so wet” and then my favorite line, “*** for me”. your fingers will be magical and you’d pleasure me gently as if i’m new to this. i won’t be able to take it anymore.. pleasure too quickly will become teasing and torture. “**** me” i’ll let out in one breath hastily. you’ll most likely say something promiscuous, which will turn me on even more. typically, i’d have you devour this ***** but i’m more impatient this time than usual. the only thing i could think of, the only thing that’ll give me that feeling of extreme satisfaction is, you in my guts. you’ll be harder than a brick and just as eager as me. your eyes stay on mine as i feel your **** rubbing against my lips until...you’ve slid in. grabbing onto you, your arms, is my first reaction. with each ******, i feel myself expand and contract more and more. the tip of your **** hitting against my ***** walls allows my body to self-lubricate, wetter and wetter. i look up at you, my mouth open still in shock and my moans echoing where ever it is that we might be. your occasional “yeah you like that ****?” “***** good as ****” “shittttt” keeps my focus on you and you alone. i rub my **** while you caress my belly, my *******, arms and legs. turning a bit onto my side, you stay close behind and penetrate me from a different angle yet the feeling remains just as sensational. i cream all over you right before you take yourself out of me slowly and head to my mouth, so that i taste the both of us...a little salty, a little sweet. it’s a distinct taste. placing your hand lightly over my head, you slide it slow down the back of my throat and exhale unsteadily as your eyes close. i am pleased with the fact that i can please you in return. my mouth is full of saliva, warm and wet and covers every inch of your manhood. you take advantage of my not having a gag reflex and let out an alarmed sounding “i’m bout to ***..” and came you did.

- d.berry
mike dm May 2015
we're all
not-yet-corpses
hobbling around
gravefooted
with one foot
inside the
inevitable gray beyond

entropy
has your number

never forget that
but wear it like a badge

make room for
dissolution
laugh yell sing
like the day is glass
break through

your tragedy
is not you -
it is yours

at all costs
consume
blueberry noon's
make torrid from bore's

say *******
to giving ****'s
grind a lot
swipe right tenderly
glitch slickly
purr for him
get your exorcism on
*** chill
like Michael J Fox
paint lust hot
rainbow swell watercolor
hold him
breathe
be

BE

you
are seen
water and color
beauty bled
sought for
boys will adore
tor of torpid
star of scar

you are not
your tragedy
they are yours
to have

so

see
your dreams
come
then -go-

gone

watch them leave
with style
lean against threshold
wave goodbye
eyes half-mast
look askance cool
as they ride off
get used to
one million and one sunsets
leaving you for good

till tomorrow

— The End —