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Ashley Chapman Aug 2018
Here in the morning gloaming
my skin flaming
as I imagine red kisses
from smouldering lips!

How easily
in anticipation
you make me whimper
before with pleasure
making me simper -
each kiss
another hot coal
placed on my rawness
with searing softness.
Kevin J Taylor Oct 2015
Smouldering moon over fallen dark embers—
fragments rising in corkscrew red-gold rhythms
sara Jun 2018
I'm transparent like a window
but I'm prone to keeping curtains closed
to cover up my youthful,
aching, naked soul.

I used to be promiscuous;
my essence on my sleeve.
a charming laugh; a crystal glass
from which many a fool drew drink.

A chalice of life;
warm like cinnamon wine,
soft like angel's delight.
Beheld by every eye.

But it never felt right;
I was smoke off a fire,
yet still smouldering coal.
Just a young, beautiful

byproduct of desire.
There's no smoke without fire.
Although, I tried to fan it cool;
the flames ran only wilder.

But as the old wind blows, it seems
a withered tree still grows new leaves.
A dandelion spreads its seeds
but they lie far away from me.

Now, I move transcluently-
ultraviolet invisible ink-
I speak in soothing whispers;
they travel further than you'd think.
Iridescence is things seemingly changing colour on their own- I think we all have the power to grow and move away from our pasts.

I love how fire is a destructive yet cleansing force.
Akemi Jul 2018
sometimes a pit
gazing inchoate
smiling past it all

inès passes the mirror
a smouldering black shape

today i looked at no one

tomorrow i’ll arrive.
che vuoi?

but people keep returning i look away frigid frightened caught in an inescapable duration
people i knew or know or want to know
shrinking in the corner like bellows lungs the sounds of buildings collapsing in reverse
one day it'll be better worse you smell like cigarettes you smell like process irrevocable.
zebra Jun 26
***** bunny ****
a ****** with bangles
shaved and pierced
dried and shampooed
Spoosh, Tick Tick, and Trashed

is it true Jesus is Shesus
and has no ***** anymore

i love you
***** Juice
waddle cupcake *****
mambo Dancing Shoes
i am Kimbo the Love Doctor
******* the palm of my hand
***** sniffer extraordinaire
in limbo
eating ****** snacks and disco biscuits
looking for a whipped cream buff puff

jam split *** cracked cheeks squeeze tight
and your Black Metal Veins
burn like melting *** of fire

so what would your ideogram look like
a hot dog and Kleenex with Skunk and
***** **** glob pearls
blond wig wavy curls and Haven Dust

I am banana float
Big Flake
and your my split thizz
a new genetic fricassee

sleep is temporary death
and i'm to tired to feed
on shadowed veins

my personality a mote
like a goat with a tote
**** fueled *** and barbiturates desert
make a face like clevererd meat

kiss me *****
jugs with *** plugs and Tootsie Roll toes
girl friend
spreads hemic tide for **** water
i like lip gloss icing eyeliner
floating in Marshmallow Reds, and Pink Ladies

*** prance Foo Foo Dust
licker of rugs
stinker with shrugs
in a puddle of Drowsy Goofers
built not to last the aftermath
like a penny side show

in instinctive rhythms
and midnight madness
while hungry for tranquilizer therapy
i feel good
like a corpse buried in your hips

say something in your oral tradition
gag gaag a googoo
pass the tiaras
and Star Spangled Powder
private parts on public display
black girls gone platinum
chocolate upside down cake
with Blue Bullets between their legs
another lick please
snorting Lady Caine, and Mama Coca rotate Soft *****
pass for French with a horse **** cigarette
in a silver case
filled generously with saliva wet nose candy

White Nurse
like a golden snake with black bones
keeps her smokes between her legs
lucky strikes revival and Bumble Bees

i like my cigs smouldering  wet
dreaming of evil

Diesel, Golden Girl
Red Chicken
do drop in
wizard of fire music
"One pill makes you larger,
and one pill makes you small,
and the ones that Mother gives you
don’t do anything at all.
Go ask Alice
when she’s ten feet tall."
drugs *** death
zebra Sep 2017
in a veiled world
i am light like a feather
lightening in a bottle
everything here is alive with madness
wild walls and chairs chatter
like wise cracking gangsters
always sporting for a fight

blood tulips cry and sing
rise and wither
and rise again
loop dancers move from rhythms of light
there are many kingdoms here

in a broken terrain of night
an obsidian ash sky howls
and we are shut in
to a starless and opaque sky
behind an impassable slate black gate
the ground a curse
all teeth and rocks
bones and weeping flesh

vampires live here
like clans
all blood porphyria
their mouths a beautiful rust
a tempting visage
half seduction, half terror

needled fingered hematologists
prepare our dinner
her name
all body candy
tattooed with a snake ****
her ******* pierced
with rose paved sparkles
and *******
stabbed with bat shaped studs

nurses sharpen knives
while quack doctors
tend to
little plastic dolls
blood bathers
with crossed femurs
in hospitals beds

a naked lunch
and willing betrothal
in a pearl satin gown
black lips glossed
hair red and purple
thighs and belly trussed

******* scorched and punctured
from incensed flames, teeth and ravaging kisses
eaten with panicked jaws
her **** torrid
a gushing river banquet
of blood black jam
chained and strapped
legs stirruped wide
feet silky glisten
for tongues and kisses

a candle light ritual
as she is copulated
by both sexes
and fed upon

laughing like a loon
eat the feast
you lovely beasts

and half devoured
a blood perfume delirium
she all
writhing wet mouth drools
saliva like diamonds and pomegranates
back arched
withered from a blistering frenzy
her eyes a white glaring tempest
gone vacant
her mouth like licorice slur
frozen in a ghastly shriek
her belly nectar
as the very last of her
a rattled blood moon
her remains
a crimson splot
in a wasting lament

matted hair
warm languishing mucous
scattered teeth
and a single smouldering
finger still  in flames
on a worn blood stained porcelain buffet

wolfed down
in the
and they vomited all night
****** HORROR
Wolf Dec 2018
Gather 'round the smouldering flames
Now those who wander lay frigid
Toss all your cares to the fire
The world is getting colder...
Nigdaw Jun 28
I love lighthouses;
Lonely, desolate, cold
Grown out of rocky outcrops
Designed by monolithic architects,
Where only ascetic souls can call home
Their light, a beacon in the darkness
To protect sailors from the smouldering sea,
And all her whiles and trickery
One lonely light, that shines out
Like faith, like hope, like love
So mariners will not plot a course
Into the shallow depths of death,
Book a room in Davy Jones’ Locker.
She's this insatiable urge
gaining on me,
like a herd of horses
galloping in the treachery of the wild,
their muscles brushed to a shine
rippling down their calves
to embrace the ground
beneath their ironed hooves
shaking it up, tormenting its calm,
whipping up tremors
that know no chains and travel far.

When she's around
dust and sweat break free
with muscles aching in symphony
the heart is all worked up
like a boiler room in heat
pummeling all of its adrenaline
in one fleeting indulgence
which the universe with all its hatcheries
is itching to contain
before the raging tides in
and floods my world.

She's the elusive horizon
used to passionate chases
and the sly azure lunging at it
for one sweet glimpse of the cleavage where it conjoins with the earth
looking for Elysium that never is.
Ah! But that is what it is
for the tamed to think of love
is an impossibility
for it grows in the wild
separated by a hundred chasms
and a million mazes
waiting for a fool to cross over.

When she isn't around
the rumpled sheets tell our story
for it has seen the storms
that raged in the cavernous nights
and filled up balmy noons
with the savagery of love
still crackling like embers of fire
which have seen better days,
and, light up still, with a death wish
to tell of our smouldering lives
that thrived in spasms of our last breath.
Emeka Mokeme Nov 2018
I'm logging out
of this smouldering
relationship with
so much drama.
It deflated me
and sap my
soul of energy.
Don't ever encourage
me to wait
for a little bit
or give it time
to work out or change.
You probably won't
meet me well
and alive or maybe
meet me insane.
I don't need
a shrink to
know that I'm fully
zapped out and
need to recuperate,
or a monster
created by this
unfortunate event
will be unleashed and
probably devour me.
Right now there's
a network problem
and the number
you are calling
is no longer available
or maybe switched off.
Now there's a need
for a new SIM card,
but the memory card
is still valid.
Remember that
the number you
are dialling is
not in use and
not recognized by
the service provider.
I'm no longer
available in that network.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Evan Stephens Sep 25
The waitress smiles
a little too much
but we don't care,
our little glass lung

of Bordeaux dips away
above slatish cobbles.
A Gauloises whips ash
from a smouldering hand

into the corner table fragment.
Systems of traffic evaporate.
A massive shadow folds
above the grifters.

The river laps
at knees of bread,
while empty bottles
browse the blackness

for their corks.
Beside cathedrals
a dusted dusk glows
& we follow it

back to the hotel.
It's a little room,
our neighbors make love,
& the courtyard roars

with high orange;
I think towards you
when sheets of clouds
betray a skimmed moon,

& we pull sleep around us.
The river tongue falls
& sleek stones gather
to a new language.
Paul Hardwick Aug 2018
Snift into my mind,
as she passed me far behind
floating on petals,
just get old,
in loves special way
her hair turning grey as mine,
her lips red so full.
I should try to take her out,
let life take its course,
cry to my self later, as she puts me out
like a burning ***,
still smouldering in the ashtray of life,
man I am old
not white but grey.

Grey Nickers.
Love [email protected] ***.
H E L E N A Feb 19
Forgive me
For my irrationalities,
My incapability
of suppressing these sentimentalities.

Even though we're forever apart at heart,
There were times I just wanted to collapse in your arms.
To be adrift in their warmth; an ever-blazing hearth,
As if they could hide me away from all worldly harm.

But every castle in the air will one day burn and crash.
Past these lashes, a smouldering hurst of ash.

How I wish I could stay and lay
On this bed of dead roses,
Where memories rise like paling petals
And sink back down in weighted metals.

You still haunt my reveries,
Awakening the ephemeral insanity.
But spring has arrived in a crimson hearse,
So I laid to rest with this ol' verse.
He was
Just a boy, a brother,
Lone sun in a misleading meadow.
duncanwrite Aug 2018
I cannot stand it, it weakens my core, it stifles my breath

The thought of him, forcing himself inside you

Making you whimper, unutterable sounds

Your unconditional complicity a gift, a given

Your abandon knowing no bounds

My manhood shriven

While I have dropped off the edge of your world

Your shapely limbs around him furled

And he, firmer, faster, harder, smarter, younger

Scoops up your jewels and riches with ardent hands

And hungry tongues, to burst your lungs

And all you can eats from your smouldering smorgasbord

And I don’t know him, nor where he lives

But I know he lives

And dies, and dies again in your scented garden….
Logan Aug 15
The warm flame attracts the moth.
The moth wills itself to sacrifice its own beating wings
for a moment of the flame's eternal radiance.
If the moth knew it would be set ablaze,
Would it still seek to embrace dancing fires?
No matter their beauty, surely it would recoil,
and yet I do not.
More foolish than the moth I am.
For I know her flames burn,
yet I long to reach out.
To touch, to kiss, to hold
Her soul in disrepair.
I do not want to ache but cannot refuse her smouldering caress.
I am a moth offering my beating wings
She is the flame, slowly fading as I disintegrate.
The red sun blazed like a fire ball though the gloaming just like she said it would   ,
then danced like firelight in the branches as it was ,
It was from this you appeared .

Smoke .
smouldering embers choked by flame ,
untill it’s fumes take over ,
My ,
Black lungs wheezing gasping for breath .
My body and clothes Linas  perfume  ,
to you’re beautiful aroma I cling .
My hand reaches near so to be warmed by you’re flame ,
and Linas  hand reaches out from the gloaming to touch mine ,
Inches from the the fire .

From Lilly pads she appeared ,
her white wet dress showing off her shapely body reflected against the flames .

How I had awaited this hour ,
consumed by her perfume,
my lungs burst. ,
breathless ,
intoxicated by her perfume .
Reaching for each other’s hands ,
her eyes reflecting endless forms of beauty,
we fall to where
the Lilly pads lay ,
down to the waters deep
take us hand in hand we plunged deep into its waters .
The red sun suddenly lets its rays surrender to
it’s. night ,
onto crimson waters where the Lilly pads lay .

Blackbirds  to many to count ,
rendered song ,
Opening blue skies ,
just for so long ,
we looked up one more time to see ,
that our souls lost in Lilly pads lay ,
would softly return to song .
Trudy and Marv hand in hand lovers from a distant land ,
heard a blackbird sing ,
she looked down “ the roses are so beautiful here “
She said .

Awoken by a tumbling sensation;  James Bellows struggled to collect his thoughts. He felt confined and claustrophobic in the dark environs of his containment.

Light suddenly appeared in his cramped quarters. Confusion drowned his reason. All about him were wooden matches with sulphuric red knarly heads.

Two monstrous fingers reached into his terror stricken world and removed a match. Immediately it was struck on the side of the box illuminating his mind like a short lived fireball.

As suddenly as it happened it was abruptly dark again. For one month this exercise repeated itself. The box would be exposed briefly to the natural light of day or within the four walls of an commercial office.  

Once, the box was left on a conference table and James could smell the sweet perfume of cigars and see men and women engage in conversation. He tried to cry out but his voice was mute.
Surely they could see him? Desperately he attempted to move and could not. He was a captive in a nightmare that wouldn't awaken.

Days passed by, then months before the box was opened. There looking down at him were two young children. They poured out all the matches and began to strike them one by one.

Screaming in terror as the horrible lottery was played out, James was at last picked up and struck on the side of the matchbox.

His head became an inferno and his tormented screams startled the fingers holding him.

'Did you hear that?' shouted out one of the kids as they hurtled James away in shocked repulsion.

'Yes! Yes! came the horrified reply.

Running away in terror they discarded their cigarettes leaving a smouldering ember within their hideout.

Flames suddenly spread and engulfed the scene rapidly.

Screams of tortured pain drifted into the air.

James was incinerated in the inferno. His ordeal and final moments unobserved as the sound of a fire engine echoed in the distance.
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