"streaks" poems
As the glorious LION
Stands strong in stature
Radiating with a presence
Of Absolute rule
The air washed with
A bristly respect
A natural pride
Beams with beauty
He guards the gateway to truth
and only the brave may enter
He is the king that needs no crown
as he holds a royal presence as he
sits in his golden coat and main
Lies spark combust just bounce off
dissolve in all his shine.
As broken men become renewed
Their fractured parts
Collect in the melting ***
Of the Lion's stare
As they are engulfed and swallowed
In the reservoirs of his strength
As the many wounded souls
Find themselves restored
In his majestic presence
As he rattles the very fabric
Of this world
There is no procrastinating belly
Exposed by a lackluster display
No one insults his strength
By creating a make believe world
Or covers him with scaffolding so
That they may alter him
For he is the finished article
And he is never held up or supported
With anyone's emotional ropes or strings
For he no ones puppet
He is never silenced
By the Strangle hold of this world
Tightened with a multitude of gestures
For I hear his ROAR!!!!!!!!
His explosive self expression
As his throat bursts and beams like the sun
Breaking all collars, and his tongue is freed
As a thousand trap doors Open up in him
And boulders are lifted and rocks are shattered
within the sound of his voice.
His Soft pads of silent stealth
Gather for all his wealth
As the power of his pounce
Is governed by both his strength
Of spirit and the honesty
With which he meets the earth
For he owns all of his own pain
And paces and growls to warn
Away any who seek to steal his fresh ****
And diminish him with pretty lies
For he owns all his space
As it feeds his strength
As somewhere in the fury of feasting
Lionesses and Lions
We find our freedom
For his power explodes like a volcano
When his soul meets the earth
As he shakes off all avoidance
To seek only truth
As streaks of white light
And pure Gold glisten in the SUN
As the world's projections
Reflect and bounce off him
There is so much to learn
From a beautiful LION
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
Filter the perfect shade of the forenoon sun,
Not too bright, not too dull.
For with ease and carefree thoughts,
You let the sunbeam-drizzling fairies play
As the beauty reflected in your retinas.
Capture this scenic view:
Where the burnt chestnut colored oaks
And mudstained sweetheart sundress of yours
Dance in three-four beats of waltz.
The Crayola strokes of the skies
And the watercolor streaks of daydreams and nightmares
Paint the canvas of your disquited thoughts.
This is the peripheral view from your suncrashed irises and corners,
This is your world.
Let your knees down to your sore feet
Be engulfed by the chasms of the bewildered grass,
As the smile makes it way to your plump spring lips;
Callused fingers from guitar strings
Twirl and twist the blades,
Cutting through flesh
And green and red and blue and yellow,
All sorts of color came spilling from your playful bruise.
From this panoramic view of yours
Of a wonder wonderland,
Where the ticks of clock
Follow the sunflower throughout time and forever,
This is the beauty of that stem:
A key to escapism
To a well-dreamt lovely world.
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 6:30 AM UTC
she loved thunder storms most of all
the crackle of white hot bolts ripping through the sky
the sheer immensity of power
she always thought it was him
her beloved God
big boy
Thor
with his flowing blond hair
blue aquatic eyes
washboard stomach
and delicately curved *****
finally a man good enough for her
even if he was fly by night
when the heavens thickened gray
like soggy cotton
she could feel atmospheres shift
it made her ******* pert
her mouth would salivate
like a lurid peach
her ***** swelled and dampened
tears of adoration and enchantment
filled her eyes
no longer able to contain her self
she would strip naked
fling off her *******
and run out to the lush verdant meadows
calling at the top of her lungs
yoooooooooo hooooooooooo
as the cool rain descended
she ran thrilled to the mud between her toes
seeing great claws of white lightening echo
through the sky
without hesitation
she fell to the cool earth beneath her
wallowing in the delicious sloshing ooze
positioning her self on all fours
head thrown back
*** up high
calling to the heavens
come on, come on big boy
ive been waiting for you
let me have it good
her clitoral lips
drooled with anticipation
her ******
a pulsating aching
the sky rumbled
with stretching streaks of fire
like a great freight train
spanning infinity
while the earth shook like a
hollow moon
she swayed her hips
rhythmically to and fro
whispering a love song
*oh sir
i need a man like you
wont you love me
adorations true
i kneel before
my sweet Lord Thor
where's that hammer
come on and score
you are so big
and im so little
how about it God
just a tickle
hit it now
give it to me good
kisses baby
like only you could*
tears of desire cascaded
down her pink cheeks
as she recited her love mantra
her mouth naked wet
suddenly
a great bolt of lightening
shot down from heavens throne
entering her ******
splitting her in flames
her head turned dark mahogany
sent careening fifty yards
leaving her mouth
a yawning twisted smudge
of fossilized obsidian
with eyes
blackened flaring hollows
her tender pink ****
a charred flower
smoldering
like a
petite
grilled
calamari
Jun 20, 2017
Jun 20, 2017 at 9:45 AM UTC
I.
I’ve swallowed too many I love you’s
to be afraid of coughing up blood.
They cut you on secret.
Who knew it was drinking gasoline
and sawdust and every little inflammable thing
and then sitting down cross-legged
in the heart of a howitzer; soft.
II.
You are a soft explosion.
You are streaks of a rebel orange
in a sky that is supposed to be blue.
You are steel rods in the curve of my spine,
holding me straight.
III.
I love you’s are like death notes written in ash:
you’ll have to smoke your way to it.
Smoke cigarettes, journals, curtains,
and yourself to get that much ash in your lungs;
trying to blow smoke rings into your finger;
my ceiling knows more about my sadness than you do.
IV.
Saying an I love you once will have you
chanting “don’t leave me” on a rosary;
love will take your bones and leave you
lusting for somebody whose back
is the last thing you’ll see, and whose
skin you’ll think you left your keys in:
and now you’ve locked yourself out
of your own house, in a storm
whose sirens wail in your ears and remind
you, you’re hopeless and homeless.
V.
I love you’s leave no exit wounds,
no shell casings, and when the time comes
you’ll be telling them all how his bullet
ricochets in your ribs,
but emotion never made up for evidence
in the court of settlements for a broken heart.
VI.
Telling someone you love them is like cutting your jugular
and not expecting to bleed out.
VII.
I love you like the pages of a mad girl’s journal.
VIII.
The moon turns from an ally
to the haunting image of science and realisation:
you share the same sky, but no longer the same bed.
And astronomy keeps ******** you over
when you look up at the sky
and no longer understand constellations.
IX.
Love makes it more getting-back-at-you
than getting-back-together-with-you.
X.
Every time you taste blood,
you’ll know you kissed somebody
with teeth like needles
and they cut you everywhere; they
bit you, they bit you, they bit you
and you kept letting them.
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 10:29 PM UTC
is when they mess with your head
light fires in your mouth
and make you hide in your bed
put stones in your heart
to drag you deep down under
they fight and they fight
their screams predictable as thunder
the rain is the part that gathers in mom's eyes
when she keeps you up late
to tell you lies
lying on the couch
her arm over her face
foundation in streaks
like old dry erase
it's when she lets you stay up late
to read to her specially
just to give her departure
more brevity
when she kisses you on the cheek
and holds you tight
then calls the cops on dad
that same night
when she only gives you presents
to make you feel bad
when she feels better
by making you sad
emotional abuse
is when she calls on a restricted number
tells you she loves you
but won't let you see your little brother
when she slaps you in the face
slams your arm in a door
well
maybe that's not
emotional abuse anymore...
when she tells you she loves you
but leaves anyway...
abuse is abuse,
it all feels the same.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 1:10 AM UTC
Elated to see you aloft in the night sky
To what do I owe this enchanted boon.
In the merry company of winking stars,
Enthralled by this sight as I admire my moon.
Bathe me in your streaks of translucent silver.
Accompany me through my sleepless nights.
Watching over me with unwavering vigil.
Swathe me in whispers of peaceful respite.
Oh how you govern the raging tides of my soul.
Rest your gaze as the waters break upon my shore...
Erode and weaken the load strewn over my burning shoals,
Sands drowned breathless but craving for more.
Few nights now... Smitten as you coyly turn away.
Thick strands of shadow clad hair in gentle cascades,
Alluringly obscuring a slight fraction of your face.
A tiny crescent blanketed away; into the blackness it fades.
More nights pass... Now I see only a lesser moon
Leaving me with only half; darkness so had claimed.
Please make yourself last; you mustn't leave too soon,
I'm not ready to be left crippled and maimed.
I silently look up as more nights go by.
I watched my lunar love dissolving into space.
My heart too, torn away a morsel at a time...
Finally she had gone; without a sliver or a trace.
Every nightfall since is rife with emptiness and despair.
I asked the stars if they could soothe my gaping void...
But they'd only twinkle in indifference...
Regardless of the pleas I've employed.
Unsure of how many rises it has thus been.
Nights only brought the onslaught of mocking stars above.
Still I toy with the promises made overhead,
For the awaited return of my crazed elusive love.
I know it's frivolous to think I'm the only one...
There are others who pine just as I do.
But I yearn the most for your sought after attention,
For our hearts have sung in every colour and every hue.
Anxiety at peak, dismayed almost broken,
Then I hear a sweet song sung; distant and far.
A song that shared the words we once had spoken,
Again enveloped in translucent silver, with relief I sighed...,
"There you are..."
.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 9:03 AM UTC
The Redhead.
The little auburn braid
wrapped across a freckled forehead,
revealing the natural orange and blonde streaks.
The china doll face,
with porcelain skin.
Pale lips, pink cheeks.
Eyes like the sea,
turquoise with speckles of green.
A crooked, imperfect, perfect smile.
A constant smile.
Jun 3, 2012
Jun 3, 2012 at 12:52 AM UTC
we were walking on the beach,hand in hand
red streaks covered the sky
just like the blood in our fights
it was time to bare our fangs
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
Red streaks of thin hair, finely cured,
Sugar-coded skin, sweet yet sticky inside…and then you sniff,
Freshly sliced with soft cries for help, the grass grows,
Dried in the most delightful setting; a miniature shadow of the sun,
The initials share a basketball in one palm-
-The pop from the stereo reflects the ripple of a king-
-----------------------0----------------------------0-------------------------
A complete package within, once the engine has revved- the liftoff-
Find yourself inside of her powers; the majestic magic maneuvers the mind,
Mend many memories and flick the switch on the motionless projector,
Guilty pleasures please the people and protect peaceful guidance,
Keep close the cultivation of a captivating lover-
-She will rise in your soul like helium in the lungs-
--------------------0--------------------0--------------------
She, who I breathe for, calls my name; forever entering the cave,
I broke off a chunk of everything she has grown to be,
Crumbled, chalk-like pollen, piles into mounds of distraction,
I set flame to the lone match and touch the wick- a silent sway-
She burns, her hair still a fiery-ruby blend, but like all living expectation-
-The ash separates and with the wind…she performs flips-
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 3:44 PM UTC
Those little streaks of light
I gathered carefully in a bottle
A few drops of time
Dollops of love
Shaken and stirred
Gently holding your cheeks
Drop by drop
I feed you
Your lips consume
You bloom
You are the morning
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 7:32 PM UTC
Hues of violet
As the azure meets the reddened sun
Sparse deflated clouds
Floated quiet as into each other, the colours run
Lavender streaks
Trail far into the horizon
Tracking the sunset
As the hour struck seven
Purple gladioluses
Bowed to the evening sea breeze
As if mourning the departure
Of the day's warmth with silent pleas
The orb finally sank
Beyond my sight could reach
Disappeared from here
But rising over someone else's beach
Last dregs of light
Slowly swallowed, giving birth to indigo
This night would last long
Before the first rays of tomorrow...
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 8:24 AM UTC
The robin wakes to magnificent streaks of color across the sky,
But was too busy hunting worms to notice what was up high
She flies through emerald trees dancing in the slight breeze,
But dismissed it as nothing different than what she normally sees
She tends to her vibrant blue eggs as they get ready to hatch,
But fails to notice the importance of the batch
She sinks into the nest in the moonlight, just shutting her eyes,
But wait, what is way up in the sky?
Why, it is a shooting star, glistening and shimmering high above,
She smiles and is suddenly overwhelmed with God's love
In that moment, she realized that life had a meaning,
It was so much more than the hunting, working and cleaning,
It was meant to teach slowly through every new opportunity,
Until one day she and God will have complete unity.
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 12:39 PM UTC
Your colors diffuse in hushed streaks
across synapses,
as empty spaces also become orchids
and butterfly petals reach for a scent
their counterparts in rain.
A fringed April is actually an orchid.
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 3:26 PM UTC
*
red - her lips tasted of wine and blood and all the pain she felt in her heart. she was driven by wild passion and survived solely on her intensity and strength. each breath she took was like fire; so absolute, so empowered.
orange - her hair was crafted from the bright ashes of a phoenix, kindled with streaks of gold. she always seemed to be her own lick of flame from the embers that burned in her heart to the coals that touched her soul.
yellow - her smile was light at your darkest hour, sunshine after a rainstorm. inspired by everything and nothing at all. she was the sun personified, the epitome of radiance.
green - her eyes were so deep and magnificent and ethereal, while still lit with puerility. she could look at you with those eyes and show you that she cared so passionately for you, no matter your mistakes or your faults.
blue - her skin drowned in an ocean of tears, storm after storm, each wave wracked her body. she trembled with heartrending sobs, each breath heavier than the last. her sorrow painted the depths of her, unseen to those who had not genuinely looked into her eyes.
purple - her organs were stained an ugly shade by the darkness she consumed. her hunger was insatiable. she filled her mouth with poison and swallowed it with a smile on her face. the air traveled from her bruised lungs, through her macerated throat, and out her smiling, stained lips.
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 3:44 PM UTC
The flame in my flesh burns tor like
Above conventions of average humanity,
Propelled to hatred of their opposite
By the pristine charm in the streaks of culture,
Their Florence comes from the glory of orthodoxities
In the time long fibres of religious pockets,
Islam, Christian, Hinduism and all that steadily
And firmly in piety aver perfection of Godliness,
Forgetting the flame of same *** with oral spice
In the God made flesh of the dear lesbian daughter,
Spell binding the equivalent in blossoms of the gay,
Provoking hatred from the threatened heterosexists,
But the oral *** of a lesbian is an apex of human pleasure
Surpassing all on earth and in heaven, as no human barricade
Of whatsoever caliber will cull lesbian’s feelings
From the glorious power in the genitals on kiss of lips,
As the tongue of the chic wag from side to other
Touching fountains of ****** glory in cement of sameness
Throwing threats of law and black order to dustbins
And trash yards of anachronisms as the power of LGBT
Engulfs the young world into in its protégé,
Shamelessly tethered on the sensual tentacles
Of maximum gusto in the ***** of oral *** with a dear ‘less’
In tune with all rhythms of the times
Remaining strange to the conservatives,
Ever seeking pleasure from where pain hails
Living gloomy life on a brink of melancholia,
Worry not lesbian daughter you are powerful,
In one away or so, rise up and walk tall
You have power in your oral ***
Oral *** Oral *** Oral *** of a lesbian!
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 4:43 AM UTC
Yellow , glowing
Softness , soothing
There . . . never a sound
Somewhere between
A cloud and ground
Between lips and thought
Somewhere , where there is a nowhere
Somehow when we don't know-how
Somewhat of an after thought
As silently as a whisper
From an owl
In the darkest reaches
Of loneliness hidden in the
Corners of sorrow
Hide tiny tears
Painful tears
Too small to see streaks
Upon those cheeks
The cloud is all fluff
Vapor and dust
Come cloud my memories away
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 5:11 PM UTC
There, in God’s country, the benign ruler
Had promptly burst out of the earth’s bowels.
A sea of coconuts smothered, sultrily,
The most unwilling moss-painted houses
The banyan raised its feet high enough
For hundreds of creepy monsoon-creatures.
The journey began in silver slanting rain
Waiting for streaks of pure white sunshine
To crawl through upright areca nut barks.
As the telephone wires went up and down
A floating bird quickly froze in the sky.
First the coconut fronds ran to the hills
Then the chilly plants , go red in the face
Inside, they of the uncertain *** beat the wind
Out of their joined palms in forced cadence.
The floor-mopping boy under our large feet
Looked with money-wetness in his brown eyes.
The train went spluttering for lack of puff
While gravel stones hit its forbidden parts.
Nov 7, 2010
Nov 7, 2010 at 10:36 PM UTC
by
rgpage
face down she rests her naked form
head turned from her lover's glance.
eye's closed she lies and knowingly waits,
(a) loving touch starts passion's dance.
his huge hand moves across her back
with strokes the touch of butterfly wings.
upon her creamy skin so smooth
its path now set toward splendered things.
his pace a slow deliberate score
her passion's breath he brings,
from touch so soft, igniting sparks
with love her breath now sings.
his steady course she knows so well
with every touch as if it's new.
her sparks of passion love's embers light,
love's embers loving hue.
down past her rear with feathered touch
just knowing where to go,
behind her knees his fingers dance
to passion's steady flow.
their hips now in synchronic dance,
love's voluntary ride, she feels his
passion grown so hard,
now pressed against her side.
he cups her breast so gently
as if it were a flower,
its ****** earlier soft and small
now hard with passion's power.
and in her ***** great sparks erupt
her soft and pleasured flesh.
with juices flowing, desire's high
to meet love's natural crush.
now she turns to meet his lips
her passion running high.
with savage hunger she pulls him in
her hunter now the prey.
tables turned their urge well matched
desire holds the pace.
she takes control and guides his love
with feminine stealth and grace.
to places only she could know
where sparks ignite
small streaks of light,
that illuminates her soul.
together they fend love's tempting end
to stay their lover's dance.
to take control and reach their goal
the essence of their romance.
Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 6:35 PM UTC
Streaks of mist
cars flying over head
no more driving
we're all flying
Our minds hooked up
great big machines
games playing out in our head
changing the meaning of reality
Humans and machines
walking side by side
no physical difference
equally walking the street
The future is unknown
but we can predict
will it be hell
or will it be utopia
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 5:26 PM UTC
ek het ware liefde i for true love
my hele lewe my whole life
gesoek searched
totdat ek ontdek until i discovered
dat die liefde that the love
moet binne in begin must begin inside
as jou pad onseker is if your path is uncertain
en jy weet nie wat jy and you dont know what you
wil eintlik he nie really want to have
dan wandel jy tussen then you wander between
die bosse met the forests with
dorings wat jou thorns that
steek *****
as jy stil sit if you sit still
en reflekteer and reflect
sal streke van lig streaks of light
en ontdekking and discovery
uitskyn shine out
die bosse sal tans the forests will still
daar wees be there
maar jy but you
kan die can
pad manage
bestuur the path
as jy jou hart agtervolg if you follow your heart
Jan 27, 2012
Jan 27, 2012 at 11:42 PM UTC
Oh the undescribable beauty
That your forest hold,
And how much it tells
Without a single word being told.
Each and every wanderer
Being called,
By the sun shining through the trees
Looking like little streaks of gold.
The pathway that leads to total
Freedom of the soul,
And you're in your element
When the birds starts to call.
Oh how truly beautiful
Your forest are,
It's just sad
That it has to be so far.
-ZvZ-
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 10:08 AM UTC
A movie star died a day or two ago
She was 97.
She would to say hello to my mother
At evening musicals full of teenaged boys
that I lusted after years ago
She would wave and smile with sparkling eyes
I’d look at mother
“Why?”
Amused, she would say softly
“I don’t know!”
We would giggle together
A rare event
Mother was no chorine
nor wardrobe mistress
She did not peak in the 50s
She did not dance with her husband
under the moon at the Bel Air Bay Club
Her daughter did not write a pop song that oddly charted
She did not struggle to remain in the public’s imagination
They had nothing in common but perhaps a lovely face and a skill at survival
Mom could make her husband move her closer to Johnny on the dance floor.
Whichever direction, Dad obliged.
They locked down that school today
Warned by a rifle in a photo
Of an unstable football pro
These women are dead now
so none’s the wiser
“When you’re a victim of bullying, an option is revenge." said the alumna.
“Just a precaution,” replied the school.
Mother would have been 97 this year as well.
Maybe they’ve met again,
two streaks of illuminated emptiness
Engaging with reservations
Over fitting in and going insane
Over the low self-regard in a champion
or
Being lost at sea.
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 5:26 PM UTC
Sunshine!
Sickly yellow
slow-light colored streaks
slithering worse than sweat
down my body.
That golden ball stares down at me
like a haughty goddess,
her duality shallow and hot.
She cares not for the freedoms of humans.
She's a two-faced coin,
purgatory masked by the promise
of freedom from pained brains
and scholarly shackles.
The sun laughs at her own trickery, gargling through melting teeth
as she collects suppressed confessions
from weakened teens.
When her crescent counterpart
offers solace from her torment,
the moonlit darkness
only serves to drown us
and we splutter in our own
self-taught
year-round
lies.
And the sun
rears her tattered, flaming mane
at daybreak,
belly-laughing at idle minds now unrefined,
gleefully adding her own scorch
to already inflamed brains.
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 8:24 PM UTC
I gaze into the soul's windows
And what do I see
An abyss of muddy water
But if I look closer I can see
Specks of stolen sunlight
Streaks of the purest gold only
Prospectors can begin to imagine
By just looking I can tell what a
Gracious, warmhearted, good-natured
Person you are
That all the disingenuous individuals
Fathom
Just by looking
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 1:31 PM UTC
Streaks
from worn out wipers
dented cans, plastic wrappers
the glow of a cigarette ****
lying comfortably
in the ashtray
white knuckles tight
on a weathered wheel
empty roads
cold and black
eyes tired but open
like trucker stops
or roadside diners
with the neons
still on
I keep driving
teetering between
my existence
and a sweet dream
I’d slip into that slumber
if not for the passengers
still fast asleep
in my back seat
So I keep driving
as quiet
and as lonely
as it may be
I keep driving
because
somebody
is putting
their trust
in me
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 1:49 PM UTC