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CK Baker Jan 2017
Thank you ~
for a life not to trade
blessings, in spades
tight spaces
behind laundry doors
packed closets
and open drawers
gator tails, tarnished brass
cracks in kitchen sliding glass
wet towels, withering plants
foundation filled
with carpenter ants
buckets piled with
shoes and tags
village clothes
and saddlebags
peeling paint
and broken walls
****** seats
in bathroom stalls
clogged pantry
frigid rooms
table scribe
and carbon fumes
comfort capsules
empty tanks
broken limbs
from children’s pranks
**** finger
double tongue
long goodbyes
and sidewalk dung
cluster flies
chavie’ clique
accompanying
the hypocrite
cracked back
and hidden smiles
chalk on board
with mr miles
atomic wedgies
closing doors
wrotten eggs
and open sores
jaw jack
nasty folk
dinner calls
for pig in poke
penny pinchers
double dip
yellow mouth
and silver tip
brown nosers
thick red tape
paper cuts
and pimple nape
gallivants
so out of norm
the joy of life
in basic form
Ashley Chapman Jul 2018
Pressesd tenderly,
your carnal flower opens,
its butterfly released,
hovers like a hummingbird
drinking from the bill.

Oh, I too would steal you away
and cage you happily,
to get under your black-fringed skirt; 
to see that pretty dress,
fly off once more,
and see you bare;
burned now forever in my banks,
a first sight,
of dark curls!

As I think of it,
my desire stirs,
but of us
I have already masturbated twice:
jammed,
hips pinned,
sliding over our wet perspiring bellies,
in our jungle heat:
'cause in the firmament of our embrace
- it's hot -
where glued we **** into each other,
stoking flames,
until sleep,
when we disappear from each other.
My mind crowds,
with niggling neurotic inanities;
yours with manic dreams where bed-wetting criminals in cages beg to be freed,
before better spaces overtake.

When I awake,
I am lying next to you,  
Gwen over the horizon of your fertile valley,
a mountain,
white and reposed.
You,
murmuring desire for me.
****!
I can't wait to answer.

It is late,
late morning,
and we are all half asleep.
You have your back to me,
as we lie,
rubbing feet,
stroking hands,
(the oiled bulb at the end of a finger),
your fine shoulders,
(that delicate but persistent bone in your wrist that stretches with pointed elegance);
as quietly inside,  
(warmly enveloped),
my couched *****,  
rocks us:
each diffusing into the other
like the early morning brew.

Lust and love,
closing-in,
which for a good while on edge had been:
the weeks,
days,
hours;
faint promises from afar;
sometimes a little closer,
our shadows in daylight cross,
as one over the other storms;
and once (or twice),
a sleeve brushes,
even better,
hair crackles,
as a speaking lip touches lobe,  
and for a moment,
taking in the other's scent,
a hint sublimely overpowers.

And these,
dearest of fancies,
are just some,
with which to penetrate your mind,
as you have mine:
the energy of my yielding tenderness,
inviting you to complete me,
as I spread for you with desire.

Much later,
those daring looks you have,
the way you walk our stage:
your beautiful elongated face,
those quick-fire arousing eyes,
your sultry self-assuredness,
your pre-possessing self.

I could talk about your couple,
of generosity,
reaching up,
beyond mere comprehension:
of the fact that I like Gwen
(his love gift for you, me);
but actually,
in truth,
I prefer to take this moment to make love to you;
to say how wrapped I am,
folded in your limbs,
in our mingling sweat;
how with your joy,
you touch my desires,
into yours,
so they flow,
run rather:
honeysuckle from your blessed nymphae.

You love my smell,
you say,
and I dream of gathering you in pheromones,
of drugging you,
of intoxicating you,
so once again you will find me,
take me,
have me.
Entice you once more like a creature from its shell:
Come!
where I can ravish you,
all of you,
lay naked to me,
flesh,
sinews,
everything,
your very bones;
those fine elbows,
those knees I would like to ******* over;
wash their smooth surfaces in my come:
from these cliff heights,
rain ***** on the rocks below.

To once more cast aside your socks and get at your toes,
to pour oil on 'em,
to rub and squeeze' em,
while in the moist cavern of your insides,
we ****,
half washed over by our own tide.
And as we do,
I quail,
speaking sweet nothings of appreciation;
from full lips,
your sounds return,
the hypnotic rhythm of your breath:
I engorge and in our labyrinth,
- the maiden and the bull -
we consume ourselves.

There,
Sweet Lentiform,
you did it,
you got me rolling in flesh,
lusting after your intimate parts,
wanting you in bed as I know you must have me:
pulling me on you,
kissing and biting;
my arousal in your palm,
pops,
as you run a curved finger over my nethers.

Lying,
lying,
side-by-side,
lying prone,
lying ******,
never unconsumed,
because,
please,
please us,
with more;
so rarely,
unfucked even for a pause,
nothing doing more than sleeping and carousing;
our sustenance barely enough to keep us at it,
an occasional comic thrown in.
Oh,
God,
throw the ******* comic at me,
will you?
Beat my ******* flesh with it if you like.
Anything to see you standing in all your pearly naked glory!

And if you can,
keep texting me,
so I can hang on your every word like a ******* puppy!
Beautiful
long-haired,
skin tight,
upright,
wise,
gorgeously wild,
woman ...
Now pull me by my **** into your **** -
where I love it best.
Pitch Hiker Jul 2018
The rain felt beautiful.
The grass stuck to my body itched
But I secretly miss that feeling
On any sunny day
I feel meaning in the way the field slants
Its always done that
The white paint has faded away
I love it when it stains my fingertips
Every shot leaves a tail of water
And the rippling sound of the ball sliding down the net
The way that the rain falls on me
Feels beautiful
Literally washing away my worries
As I never feel truly tired
As if every drop was distracting me
From my physical state
This makes me feel strong
Skaidrum Jun 2015
●Sunken to my basalisk heart
○the drums of nebula bursting
•Saturn sliding down my shoulder•
°-Lupus circling the lunar fire-°
◇A flask of ivory,◇
¤in the diamond flesh.¤
•This mirror glinting•,
○Steel jaws meet my neck.
~Casting amethyst over
my hair.~
| Reflections scratching at the mist. |
______
"You look lovely covered in
words."

A luminous face, pale and lean.
Spirited as foxes, a shadowman in
gunpowder chain.
Ghost.
"I think you mean sleeves of
poetry."

.
In memory of Jack Addison.
Your grave looks lovely in stale moonlight.
I'm sorry.

© Copywrite
Delia Darling Sep 2018
As I stand here, outside my work building
stealing a smoke break
I wonder about God and the universe
and how much happier it makes me feel
to believe in other things

That the sun was a running man
chasing the stars in that endless black
run man
run fast
run free
but freedom only gets you
slipping and sliding in circular leaps
around our earth, almost like
a clumsy mouse in a stationary wheel
and these sneaky stars
always one step ahead at sunrise
or at his heels in sunset

My mom’s a Catholic woman
she won’t believe in the running man
her stars are not stars, no
her stars are rosaries in purses and
priest’s words
taught words
holy words
but holy words are also
human words, are they not?
It never made sense to me
that a person could live their whole life
repenting it

But then again,
my dad used to have me work in our yard,
picking the weeds outside
and he let me treasure them in a vase
he never called them weeds,
they were always
dandy-flowers
wishing flowers
wildflowers
but wild only gets you
believing in the sun and
keeping shrubs in vases
All of which suit me, because

In the lonely nights of endless black,
I have the company of my own stars
and when holy words of weeds fall back
I remember that—
wild humans are only wildflowers
Just some random thoughts induced by an insignificant smoke break
Jack R Fehlmann Oct 2018
I like your eyes
They suit you well
The slightest hint of green
Camouflaged in a sort of blue
Maybe grey
Hard to be certain
If I try, when I do
That is exactly the time
You decide to slide them away
Never knowing mine
Too often, too consistent
Don't worry,
I can read between lines
Pretty, I know you are used to it
Most that try are trying
To think that I am guilty
And my motives hide desires
Then there is no need worrying
I do not have designs or am I trying
Simply appreciating the colors
That compliment you friendly smile
Not my type though pretty you may be
Im a man of acquired tastes
It suits me, the ones that get me
the way they do,
Is less assumingly
Unlike you do.
assuming eyes,
Slide away always
lithe on corridors
insidewalk

slink up and down
sliding hollows underground
outstretched on the edge
underscoring ley lines

I cuddle the crevice
ear pressing the cold
awaiting your gait
tick talk

our primordial
past chisels hum
verbing part lips

howhowhow
to bridge these walls

so I can
taste myself
on your mouth

I miss it like hell
King Panda Dec 2016
Xmas
I forget to breathe
and choke
while looking at my hands
and I realize I am
quite vain
a popstar
basking in hazardry
the snow you are meant
to see
You don’t know me
until
You go inside
and we kiss hands coming
out of the dark
you don’t know me until
the moment I ask you
to believe
there will be an Xmas when
the ice cracks blue
and I am not thinking
my imagination of us
old and riding a public bus
sliding down the glass
defying gorilla tape
I can’t even stop
half of myself
and know
Pain
Pain
Pain
Yes to
Love
Love
Love

*
* *
     *
* *
(snow falls)
Michael Solc Jan 2013
Quickly and quietly they come in the night,
slithering, sliding into your room,
under your covers and out of sight.

Soft, scaly skin cold to the touch,
whispering "dear, you mustn't scream much".

Long pointed fingers wrap 'round your head,
they've found you cozy in blankets,
and now wait to be fed.

Can you hear the scuttle of claws in the hall?
Coming to find you,
coming to maul?

Clicking claws and soft little hands that are cold to the touch,
they’re whispering, "fear, now isn't it such?"

Dark little voices in a dark little room,
so often a haven,
now laden with doom.

Eyes shining coldly in the blackness you see,
fangs dripping with hunger
as they shiver with glee.

Dozens all over, waiting their turn,
they've come for your tears,
for your dreading they yearn.

Quickly and quietly they come with delight,
but it's all just a dream
so sweetheart, goodnight.
Lora Lee Mar 2
just when the dust
settles round my lust
and the thud
of despair hits bottom
just as I flail
and swim in this
blood-caked,
         soulless earth
soup of the lost
abyss of unbirth  
you plunge my wilderness
charred with remains
from hellfire
and we breathe
                 halos  
our bones lighted sticks,
colors rising in
angel arcs

Your rib cage
is open
for my tremulous offering
as my lips imprint
a crimson O
upon the earthquake
of your chest
I am still down with the
                           earthworms
wrist **** sopped
                    by soil
arteries, bashed
split to the root
by verbal hurts
in a sliding psyche of oil

yet here you are
suturing wounds
with whiplash kisses
saltlick moans in my throat
You wrap me in gauze
through the imprint of your eyes
turn my cuts
into fresh brook
gaze upon my
deepest darkness
like goddess worship shrine

my **** is a funnel
for your whipped light
sacrifice ****** prayer
skinned to the core
all layers exposed
your lips slick
with the drip
of my bliss,
deep juice of
freshly-caught
jungle hum
all is bared
we stop at nothing
paint our tongues
with tears
adorn the face of death
with ripe guava
and, as you scream
my name into
a blown glass whisper
my soft fruit
falls into
the heat of
          your palm

somewhere
in distance
a
        moon
explodes
Explicit
melinoe immortal Jul 2017
'Healer' time take thy poor, black sheep,
and stop it from wondering
in the dangerous corners
of the mind,
because heaven and hell collided
inside a body and in unity they came
in the presence of all those
who conspired to it.

From the frontal to the occipital lobe,
dark thoughts obstruct
the brain’s watershed regions
and thanatos they bring.
The soul cannot take this coffin
anymore.

The stone is too heavy to carry;
sliding down and pushing up,
every night the pushing starts,
for the dawn, her courage to crack.


It may be like Hooke's law they say,
but bodies break down,
when people apply the extra force
and so do the souls,
long before.
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