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"squeezin" poems
Little heaven  Little homeliness  Little money Little loneliness  Little me  Little you Little time  Little clue  Little life  Litte sleep  Little love For me to keep  Little point  Little reason  Little love  But I'm still squeezin I'm still trying Don't know why If its not me It leaves or dies Little time Little place  falling behind  Pick up the pace  Who to have Who to choose Little me  Without the You Little me  Without the you Little time  Little clue Little reason Little place  Life is wheezin After the race  Life is long  Life is short Life is wrong Life will hurt Life will last  Forever for me Cause life wont end A lock with no key Life won't end  Till I seize to see Life won't end Till I end me. Life won't end  Until life leaves me
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May 17, 2012
May 17, 2012 at 11:24 PM UTC
Stuart little
I'm..... leanin' in to kiss you feelin' your heart beatin' squeezin' your thigh movin' in closer runnin' my hand along your chest You're..... reachin' for me pullin' me near playin' in my hair caressin' my cheek nibblin' at my neck We're..... cravin' one another searchin' to be close achin' for that moment joinin' the other in oneness movin' together takin' us both higher achievin' that incredible passion I awake... I yawn.... I stretch..... I moan...... "oh **** yet another sweet dream of love makin' with you~" 2007 COPYRIGHT; Sabrina Denise Healey, ~Angelmom~
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Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 11:40 PM UTC
My Sweetest Dream~
ummm!! I'm gonna take his blindfold off for him to savor me with his gaze, eyes roam touchin' me in silent awe; finger tastin', the unthinkable, straddlin', squeezin', teasin' and grazin' nips leavin' wet trails of pleasure upon briny masculinity; listenin' to his heart race, ignites lustful tremors stroked insanity, slippery slit teases; thoughts throb, as thickness swells, swollen senses breathe deeply of soaked scents; flickin' bud betwixt achin' petals...damn! Oooo!...yes!! soft, ebony fingers assault and swirl elicitin' moans and sighs, takin' nips betwixt teeth again as fingers enter swollen honeycomb; overflowin' in sweetness sweat rolls off our body, bitin' nips eruptin' sparks of long awaited aches, dominance partakes its desire, slitherin' along bouquet thighs, blossomed scents flow; emanating moans givin' reason to beg; biting silk sheets, tonguin' his treat actin' like a freak, lovin' me cheek to cheek; playin' me like a symphony strummin' thighs, releasing melodious sighs, sensual cries in sultry lullabies in trebled tempo's in and out of wet tightness, as I blindfold him; complyin' with his ****** whims...takin' me again and again
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Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 6:35 AM UTC
Unthinkable Pleasure
"I swear, the sun rose early today," you went a’whisperin’ on the roof. Hands behind your head watching orange become blue – I agree. The lightpost out front shines blue ‘fore horizon eats the sky for keeps. We pose red tiger lilies in the soil as the sun elopes with morning. Garage with an iron stove and a growing wood stock. Two beds pushed together. Yea, these are frosty nights. Dreamin’ of lilies, leg hairs, moths and swoopin’ bats, noses with honest angles, leg squeezin' that be thigh squeezin' before dying fires. Hair’s a bit dry, then damp. Callouses show guitar string familiarity. Just as before, you’re quiet. A sunset approaches, rarity. Stoking the fire until the room grows cold, rare and raw in deed and in action. Intrepid and convoluted. Purposeless language so thick and unable to expression o’makin’! Non-motion! Unbeauty and polluted flair! I spit words like curses at the bee-stingin’ burn! Ain’t been no words like those I spat as his Luckiest Strike met my forearm. And the pain fades. And my arm crossin’ over his. I can tell by the look on his face as I take his mark away – No regrets! Skinny as an ostrich thigh. Hair bristled and wet. Grass dying under the pressure of bare feet. No climactic conclusion or sequel to undefeat. “Take a dip in the ditch right creeping to dawn.” Spitting into shot glasses until we both set it straight. Thunder claps before lightning leaps skyward. Well-steeped tea makes a brown into tan into clearest of steam, filling up the kettle. How anxious. So anxious.
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Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 4:12 PM UTC
Orange Frost
"I swear, the sun rose early today," you went a’whisperin’ on the roof. Hands behind your head watching orange become blue – I agree. The lightpost out front shines blue ‘fore horizon eats the sky for keeps. We pose red tiger lilies in the soil as the sun elopes with morning. Garage with an iron stove and a growing wood stock. Two beds pushed together. Yea, these are frosty nights. Dreamin’ of lilies, leg hairs, moths and swoopin’ bats, noses with honest angles, leg squeezin' that be thigh squeezin' before dying fires. Hair’s a bit dry, then damp. Callouses show guitar string familiarity. Just as before, you’re quiet. A sunset approaches, rarity. Stoking the fire until the room grows cold, rare and raw in deed and in action. Intrepid and convoluted. Purposeless language so thick and unable to expression o’makin’! Non-motion! Unbeauty and polluted flair! I spit words like curses at the bee-stingin’ burn! Ain’t been no words like those I spat as his Luckiest Strike met my forearm. And the pain fades. And my arm crossin’ over his. I can tell by the look on his face as I take his mark away – No regrets! Skinny as an ostrich thigh. Hair bristled and wet. Grass dying under the pressure of bare feet. No climactic conclusion or sequel to undefeat. “Take a dip in the ditch right creeping to dawn.” Spitting into shot glasses until we both set it straight. Thunder claps before lightning leaps skyward. Well-steeped tea makes a brown into tan into clearest of steam, filling up the kettle. How anxious. So anxious.
Continue reading...
47
As nigh falls. So did she in my arms... storm is calm so only light rain falls upon the window, deep breaths , clenchin pillows. long strokes, bed rocks, silk sheets, its warm between her thighs, im in deep. Sheep sleep but they stay countin my thrusts, never bust, only creeks from the bed as she sweats ,each drop is another breath that she moans. Run my hand down her thighs, feel the warmth up inside lookin deep im in her eyes, the only light is the shadow cast on her smile. But shes bitting her lips, shes rubbing her breast, i kiss on her neck, now shes a waterfall ****** , saying baby dont quit. i cover her mouth let her **** on my fingers, squeezin my hamd on her hips, just tp get in deeper, i tell her... i wanna be breathless, i want your legs on my neck, wear it like a neckless, so im reckless, pickin her up surprising her, as she gasps! i open her legs , give a kiss just to make her laugh, i know it tickless, but i want you to feel an equil sensation for what to come is no pickle. But toungue sickle, have you black out of the intensity, legs quakin, has the whole room shakin, feel the loss of gravity. weightless the feeling is paperless on clouds but in reality with me and havin me faced in. tastin every inch, outter an inner, say God! Baby jesus not gunna help us sinners, EMMANUEL JV HERNANDEZ AKA LINGUIST MUSICIAN #MIGHTWRITEMORE #NEEDS #EDITING
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May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 12:41 AM UTC
*** thoughts....
When the timing is right and the wind chimes are singing and the lemons and limes are squeezin and the words are rhymin and the tree climbers are climbin and the deaf are signin and you are lookin so fiine-in is when you take off your watch and time stops timin. Time stops timin and the world becomes timeless
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Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 10:04 PM UTC
Take off yo watch
The words from the paper jumped off and took a hold, squeezin' at my heart, and snatched up my soul, the content took me by such a surprise, numb, is now what i feel as i just watch the moon rise, trying to grasp my own thoughts, swirling in my mind, the words written, and the cold feels deadly, combined, contemplation, followed by some aggravation, and the determination, to not let it happen, now with all the pressure, my heart is misshapen, as I stare at the icy waters below, and feel the arctic chill of the snow, sparkling around me and the mountains across the bay, I'm still trying to comprehend, why you chose to speak on paper, and why to me, you could not say, I will get through, cause I always seem to, but may need some help to raise my temperature, to change my flesh back from blue, with the start of it at my fingertips, the cut caused by the ice of your words, not the page itself, and the way i'm feeling at the moment i wish would never reoccur, so i let you and your pages go and reclaim my soul, I'm okay that you let me go, just didn't agree with the form, that you let me know.
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Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 6:36 PM UTC
Pages of Ice...
Baby, you're so smart Because you keep it simple. But you've got locked-in syndrome when it comes to drawin' lines. Baby, you keep it simple with darts as answers with sweet nothings on Wednesdays with no calls on Fridays no more. And you say you get mad when I "hypothesize" which I thought was "facing the facts" You're so clever baby. Baby, you keep it simple by putting me on hold, Just me and the dial tone for days, weeks, months at a time. Baby, you keep it simple when we break up but you keep squeezin' i-miss-you's here and there, like you had too many nothings to spare. Baby, you keep it simple by keeping me on my toes by not hearing my pillow woes when I clutch the blankets at 2 am on the dot every morning to look for your name to find blank screens. Baby, you keep it simple. So baby please, stop painting the roses red.
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Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 8:25 PM UTC
Baby, please