"superficially" poems
#
Each body part
sizzled in pure pleasure
in the blissed wake
of your oral efforts
brought forth the waves
of rapturous delight...
Spurs poetic inspiration
in equal liberation
of desires to please.
Bodies transpose
in fluid motion
as brazen eyes meet.
Savor the voluptuous image before you.
Indulge your eyes in my carnal halo
before they roll to the back of your head.
On all fours
knees between your thighs
tips of swollen breast
caress your chest
tasting fresh honey
upon lips in a kiss.
Ripples of ardor
hover
by wet trails
of sensual kisses
suckling towards
the apex.
Breathe in
the slow motion pace
that pulsates eagerness
to the fore tumescing bulge
leaking with anticipation
of viscous lava.
Tickles of silken hair
against flesh edges closer.
Emerging subtle grumbles
in deep resonance
betray your impatience .
Hands tightly twine
in tangled hair
to maneuver
the treasure hunt.
Licked lips pause
at the sight of fire
burning in
glazed gazes
before engulfing
the throbbing member.
Plump ruby lips
greet velvety texture
in a slow deep dive.
Tongue curls around
the flavor
in a dulcet embrace.
Moans release
as grip tightens
in my hair
settles the
rhythmic pace
to taste in an
oscillating dance.
The masculine aroma of heady musk
lingering there, arouses my appetite.
With my enthusiasm
attuned to
your preferred rhythm
suckling, slurping
surface and dive
in measured unison.
Break of breath
allows tongue
freedom to roam below,
licking, soft kissing
the tender hammock
of testicles.
Tongue and lips escalate higher
to mount another assaulting dive
deeper in the depths
of the cusp in cavity.
Wetted fingers
probe even lower
circling superficially
as gasp escapes
your heavy breath;
flaming eyes lock.
Finger dips in
with expert finesse
gorging hardened growth
within a wrapped hand.
Thighs tighten
with rocking grip.
Head thrusts onward,
drilling forward
in each dive.
Salvia slips
fingers grip
lips dip
Engorged swell, flesh tightens in an intensity
of volcanic eruption ...
HALTS
assault
Pace retracts.
Loosened lips kiss tip.
*“Soon sweetheart, your time will ***
inside me as we surrender to synergy."*
#
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 7:51 AM UTC
Hi! I’m a hamster on a Wheel!
Gamely running on my bony little legs
[I’m getting somewhere! I’m getting somewhere!]
Every once in a while, I look left or right
See my **** and my compressed pellet food sitting in the same positions
as an hour, a day, weeks ago – and I realize:
IT APPEARS THAT I’M ACTUALLY GOING NOWHERE!!!!!!!
Which surprises me each time it crosses my little hamster brain, until I’m distracted
By my pellet food, the call of the Wheel, and other sundry carnal desires
Roiling superficially in my hamster-angst
While working the Wheel, surrounded by the detritus of my saccharine prefabricated life
I fail to notice
Outside my cage
Hands, lifting, carrying
Thousands of miles traversed
Steaming deserts
Steaming jungles
Steaming cities
Brutality, kindness, sensuality, love, hatred, atrocities, age, youth, heat and cold
All flashing by my glass shell as hands carry me towards a final resting place
Until
A jarring, toppling blast shakes my world
Tearing me from my Important Work on the Wheel
I look up, pellet crumbs falling from my mouth
Just in time to see my cage tumble from hands
Over a rail
Down
Down
Flash of blue
Flash of brilliant light
Flash of blue
Down
Smacking into a vast expanse of water
Unimaginably immense
Outside of my realm of comprehension – I mean, I’d never seen it in my hamster cage before, so why should I even expect it to exist?
What is it’s purpose?
It makes no sense!
It has no place in the world!
And as I slowly drown in the secret withheld from every hamster since the beginning of time
I take one last longing look at the Wheel, the cage, the pellets
And curse them
Curse the Deception that told me they were all that mattered
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 9:15 PM UTC
#
*I was shovelling drifted snow outside today
and was overcome again
by the warmth of that beautiful,
deep feeling.
You may never understand
the need to push through the mundane
and into the deep, central Core
of the one you care most about.
For you,
in your current world, that is not attainable..
but for me.. looking at you..
I know you very much have that deeply-gorgeous,
extremely worthwhile attainability in you.
Without connecting deeply with one such as you,
I would just be sliding superficially along the surface
throughout this entire 'life' here..
Knowing there is a whole world of untapped closeness
lying just under the status-quo
of the normal 'everyday' operating level.
That is not saying we would necessarily be ******
at all
It just means that there is, sadly
such a huge amount of giving up of the Beautiful
in order to continue on skating along the surface.
That is why I do what I do, and say the things I say
late at night.
During the day, I am operating
out there on the "everyday" level.
At night, I am connecting into the unfathomable depths
of the most lusciously-beautiful gold mine I have ever known.
I can't do the "surface" thing with you, Young-love..
In fact.. I won't.
You get that in your marriage,
and pretty much everywhere else around you.
I refuse to be a part of that tremendously sad list.
You will never not be that deeply luscious gold mine..
You will never not be fully worthy of the attempt.
You want to be left alone.
.. ok.*
#
Dec 15, 2022
Dec 15, 2022 at 7:28 PM UTC
I open the blinds and see the world - in return, what
does the world see? It sees me, and all my splendid, split
personalities, living these amazing times, of amazing
pleasures, in which we tweet tweets, and post posts re
ego-trips and copyrighted links, videos and things; and,
as stray dogs, we ramble randomly, and all the time,
living in our infinite worlds, of infinite lanes, till infinity;
yet we suffer so much pain.
Our Shih Tzus take us on extended walks, firmly leashed
to our Koss plugs, as we drone cool tunes on multihued
iPods, iPhones buzzing ringtones of tittering babies,
stolid kings and hyperactive frogs, which would all make
my eighty-six year old dad want to gag; we fly
ultralight megaplanes at the sonic sound of speed,
through virtual and real space, connecting dots at low-
cost prices, while we belt-up, gear-up, gulp Gaga and
gorge heat-inducted meals of deer, horse and over-
promoted crap; and then, wow surprisingly, we are all
so unsatisfied.
We consciously all move-in together, and **** on end,
like statistical sheep, pre-married, unloving, and broken
up, and justify it all, to ourselves, with our fully
stretched spandex morality, over low-carb brunches
@Starbucks, two 14” screens of separation; we paint
pornographic images of virgins, all called Mary, in the
name of art, and, white-clad, **** babes and alter-boys,
and penetrate each other, first with our fingers, deeply,
then superficially, without even wondering, for a
zeptosecond, why we can’t stand one another any
longer.
We crank-up dependencies, like high street mainliners,
shamming and slaughtering for neurotoxic fixes of
smileys and Crystal on billion-dollar Kogo yachts, while
we all just pedal on, dispassionately, down and over
interior canals, to the core of our hocked, abbrev lives,
chronically connected and severely distracted, in
aromatic polymer bubbles, heedlessly cruising through
comic-strip farms of mock vegetables, surely to nowhere
and towards no one; and quite frankly, the world laughs
at all this, and sobs, and so do I.
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 4:08 PM UTC
I’m leaving Neverland,
and you don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to,
but I’m gone,
I know it kinda feels great to stay in a superficially carnal way,
but if I stay I will die,
and I’ll be giving away the precious gift,
of the only thing I actually have,
my life,
because it’s not too late but will be if I wait,
to make all these wrongs right,
and it’s not too late but will be if I wait,
to **** my past and start a new life,
I can’t stay,
and I can no longer deny,
that my Hometown of Hollywood has been corrupted,
they even made the most innocent moments feel tainted,
maybe that’s why I can’t play with a little boy,
without feeling like I’m doing something wrong,
and I haven’t sexually abused a single child in my entire adult life,
so why should I feel confused by what’s going on,
and we all know what’s going on,
we all know They are attracted to the Young and Innocent,
because in the twisted logic of their perverted minds,
they think maybe by being with children they’ll stay Forever Young,
it’s disgusting,
and I’m so ashamed of the city I’m from,
that I’m not even having kids,
because I feel bad for every daughter and son,
and I still love Michael Jackson,
I mean I own a self-portrait painted by him,
it hangs in my hallway I pass it everyday,
as I search for a way to find some separation,
between art and artist,
between who God created,
and what that who God created,
creates from that creation,
trying to make peace with,
the fact that every gifted artist seems to be so twisted,
makes me suspicious,
of every celebrity I know and all their addictions,
because it’s different,
depending what what their addiction is,
I mean a bit of blow is one thing,
but a kids ******** goes beyond addition & becomes a sickness,
and we may never know every secret untold that goes on without witness,
and honestly at this point I don’t even care,
I just want to get the heck outta here,
you know what I mean Billy Jean,
the kid’s not mine but I’m still talking to the Man in The Mirror,
so it’s time to Beat It,
make my escape like a Smooth Criminal,
because I realize now that all those messages,
were more than just subliminal,
and I don’t like The Way You Make Me Feel anymore,
I’m not going to wait ‘Till You Get Enough,
I’m going to find a place where I actually feel appreciated,
because I finally realize that back in Hollywood They Don’t Care About us,
so I’m leaving Neverland,
and you don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to,
but I’m gone,
I know it kinda feels great to stay in a superficially carnal way,
but if I stay I will die,
and I’ll be giving away the precious gift,
of the only thing I actually have,
my life…
∆ LaLux ∆
Hollywood
2019
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 4:07 PM UTC
I lock my eyes to their counterparts-
the alter-ego of my ego.
I stare into the mirror
not to remark on my beauty,
or the flaws that can seem etched
into the glass,
but because I can't trust any other window,
to look into my soul as deeply.
And when I look at this mere reflection,
there is a love so superficially profound,
that can only be understood
when pupils match up perfectly.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 11:53 PM UTC
I can't hear the choir from my couch
It becomes a funeral pyre in a pouch
Like the unnatural fire in my slouch
That is where I retire
To superficially admire
A world I'll never see
Placing trust in the screen
I'm as lonely as can be
Until couches set me free
From a life worrying about others
The couch becomes my banal brother
That is where I concoct my cowardly plan
To avoid my fellow meddlesome man
Living a life in silence
The couch creates pylons
Determining where I can go
Determining what I can know
This Ottoman Empire
Lights the world on fire
With cushions that fuel
Flames and drool
I attempt to stand
But life seems bland
With feeling constant comfort
So my personality I import
From the images on TV
And my brain it impedes
When I can't think for myself
I put my life on the shelf
And flee into furniture
The couch my burning cure
Sep 14, 2017
Sep 14, 2017 at 7:05 AM UTC
It clawed me first
Dangling the honest red loop
That loop from the shirt
That one they tore
That one I cried over
That lover that shamed me
A patient of mine
losing. blood with with
no single transfusion
and you bite your nails
And I listen
Click
Click
Click
Take me to where the leafs are
I need to leave our pizza
And yours
Hold my hand my van Pelt
Don't leave me
Weep and dry your eyes
On my new necklace
Kiss me and share my salt
Why scratch?
I wanted to pet you
Superficially of course
But is that ******
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 10:55 PM UTC
A room.
Need to displace to move.
Arrangement of places you’ve been
******* you in like some Kansas twister that swept you off your porch
just after you open the door for the first time today.
I awake from a dream.
I don’t remember what was said.
Clumsily laying letters over felt footsteps.
A semblance of something too big to tell you.
I cannot move it but I’ll say whatever to mean it.
A body subject to the wind
ringing against the world, accenting the edges in sharp cries
like a dinner bell that never rests.
How’s the sky taste Major?
You think Bowie really cared for karate?
Only superficially because in some perverse way it was a form of art.
A Darwinian heyday exhibition for the human condition.
I’m alive ************ let’s keep it that way.
In every way.
Don’t want to be too narrow.
Need some space to move.
The past that comes to us now,
first came from our future.
Even the ones that wilted under the shadow of satisfaction.
Even the objects flowing through this wicked light show of so much contained in three tiny axis’
Please chart your love according to x y and z without dimensionally reducing the picture.
Don’t worry darling I’ll wait, remember it’s there we first met.
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 9:44 AM UTC
There are so many of these girls
bright, lovely pretty young things who’ve suddenly—
(like it was a choice)
taken to all this madness of reading books,
drinking fancy tea and pretending that
they didn’t care about boys or clothes.
well i’m your messenger from the future
your ghost of Christmas past
Let me tell you now that i’ve always been the girl who
Was lonely in high school
Who preferred her books to nights out spent partying
and drank hot cocoa by the liter
and never once considered herself lovely or pretty
that was until i traded in my precious uniqueness
for the generic, unoriginal cutout that i superficially am now
i skipped meals for weighed almonds
put on heels pretending to be tall and cool
but i still stumbled and hoped no one saw me
boys came and talked to me but all i could manage was
awkward sputter that was a sad excuse for words
or else talk to them about books,
politics, social issues and science
until they walked away afraid their eyes telling me
She’s crazy.
let me tell you now, honey
being a geek isn’t cool
whatever trend or substance you’re on forget it
geeks are awkward
****** weirdos with their own language
who blurt out random fandom quotes and references
they’ve known by heart since they were ten.
If you think it’s fun to be the only one laughing
at a joke you were sure everyone knew
of to get stared at like a madman
for speaking klingon, elvish, harry potter, star wars, Dr. Who.
it’s not silly child, my lovely
for in all their uncoolness
geeks actually think they’re cool
well i’m your messenger from the future
your ghost of Christmas past
Let me tell you now that no amount of make-up
can hide the fact that you still preferred Kafka and Bukowski
over cigarettes and alcohol and clublights and you
(not really sure about this one, i like alcohol and cigarettes too)
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 9:20 AM UTC
We live in a world filled with disposable things
made to be used once, but seldom more than twice
with little or no attachment, we consume mindlessly
single-serving coffee or single serving relationships, it's all the same
We've learned to measure value in terms of convenience
Instant gratification comes with a price, but one we gladly pay
disposing of the evidence neatly and quietly, the carcasses
monuments to a purpose well served; vacant hearts never filled
material things only heal wounds superficially, but
nothing lasts forever, right?
Our soulless smile, just another by-product of living a disposable life
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 1:31 AM UTC
Before it became a crush,
we were family friends.
You slipped in and out of my parent's parties.
I saw you only in passing.
We were never introduced...
...formally, that is.
The first time I saw you out of my house
was that night.
The night we first spoke.
You comforted me and
cradled me in your arms.
I was with all my best friends,
but you and I seemed to fit so perfectly.
Some say we took those first steps too quickly.
It wasn't love right away, but I was
intrigued by you and your
sense of warmth.
After nights similar to the first,
I began to think of you a lot.
If a weekend would pass without you in it,
in me,
it was incomplete.
I yearned for your touch
and the way you made my skin prickle.
My lips tingle in the thought of you now.
At the beginning, it was simply fun with you.
Innocent fun with no repercussions.
That is when I learned to love you.
I loved how you didn't have a plan or sense of direction.
You were spontaneous.
I was insecure and fragile, looking for someone,
something,
just like you.
At first, you brought out the best in me,
showed me that when we were together,
I meant something,
and I will always thank you for that.
There were times when I questioned your worth.
Some nights you would engulf me,
take everything of me,
chew me up
and spit me back out.
You never threatened me, or hurt me.
I just loved you so much that I would do anything you said.
Maybe I was angry with you in the morning,
but I always forgave you the next time we were together.
Run up to you and hug you, and you would kiss me twice on each cheek.
Like you always had.
As if nothing had happened.
Somehow promising that tonight would be better.
From that first night to now,
our love affair has been consistent.
I always want you
and your smooth touch.
And even after every time you put me down.
You're always the one to pull me back up.
I've shared so many memories with you,
dark and messy nights,
poetic and spiritual ones too.
Every time I hear your name or
know that you are near,
my eyes widen.
I bite my lip and smile.
I get shaky and anticipate your arrival.
Some people love you superficially.
They are the ones who don't easily forgive.
But you know that I will always love you.
Some will try to tear us apart,
saying that you don't love me back.
That you can't.
They've tried and lost.
Even if I don't directly receive love in return,
the way you make me feel, and act, and cry,
lets me know that you do love me.
You are the only one who can hurt me
as much as you have,
and know that I will always run back into your arms.
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 10:21 PM UTC
Though my brothers starve,
I cannot do a thing,
despite any sacrifice,
no matter my achievement,
in spite of my feelings,
the world continues on,
dysfunctional as always,
always and forever,
the world will never fill with light,
nor will it ever be fully engulfed in darkness,
the only pathway to change is in numbers,
the kind of numbers that cannot be amassed,
a digit so unreasonable I can't help but sigh,
the world would change with the tides,
if not for the human heart,
a fickle mechanism,
it feels superficially for most part,
and ***** greedily at life,
rarely experiencing self-actualization,
if not for the human heart,
morality would decompose,
and rearrange in its purest form.
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 4:47 PM UTC
Generation Playstation.
How many of you know that when it's two o'clock
The sun points
South?
I grew up falling down from trees and hills.
But I also taught myself to make fire
Without fire.
I drank too, as a teenager.
We drank around bonfires.
When we came home red-eyed, smoke-smelling and usually superficially
Cut, our fathers would pretend
Not to be proud.
We saw right through it, just like our mothers did.
They felt they had to say something.
They did, and we pretended to listen,
For the sake of peace to rest.
There was no room for drugs:
We were already
Happy.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC
Prompt: Persona superficially apologizes to his or her in-laws.
I’m sorry I’m not the same as you,
dressed to my best in Coco Channel, Ralph Lauren and Giorgio Armani.
I didn’t come from money, my baths were never in a porcelain tub,
my toilet was not made of gold.
I thought that my love for your son would be enough
to put my economic status in the past.
Yet, there is no disguising the thick line that is drawn between us,
the way the air congeals when we’re all in the same room.
I’m sorry that your eyes have been programmed to see me
for where I come from,
instead of who I have become.
It doesn’t matter to you that I have found a job worthwhile,
or that your son is not the sole provider.
You hate me anyway.
So this is my apology,
from the bottom of my heart.
Maybe someday those clouds will clear from your eyes
and you will notice that I am better for your son
than any of those stuck up *******
you call equals.
May 15, 2011
May 15, 2011 at 8:03 PM UTC
My father said the other day
with a sad smile
his calloused fingers ran through my hair,
"You feel too deeply:
it is both a blessing
and a curse."
"Blessing?" I inquired.
He had no answer.
His hand gently provided more weight
and suddenly I knew.
It is not a blessing
to be different from the majority
from pragmatic individuals
who superficially skim over events
--that hurt, injure, sadden-- me.
No;
it is a curse.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 6:31 PM UTC
Snow
Sometimes at Christmas
White as a brides dress
Rare and pure
Reality suspended
Deep beneath
Snow
The crisp clean white
Linen table cloth
Spread over
A stained table
Superficially pleasing
Snow
A new shroud
Laid over a body
Stiff with cold
Frosted ground
Crisp and even
Snow
Rippled bright sorbet
Cleansing
Refreshing
But always
Just water
Jan 23, 2010
Jan 23, 2010 at 2:25 AM UTC
Captivating, conspicuously charming
A fragrance so enthralling
Bewitching the senses
Enticing the unfocused soul
Hypnotizing, hardly hypnagogic
Such unparalleled grace
A peculiar dancer
Coaxing the mind to perplexity
Anodyne, aberrant anesthesia
Resembling an ethereal angel
A touch appealing to tame flames
Surreptitiously gathering fuel
Sacrosanct, superficially sacred
Donned with deceptive modesty
An ambiguous spark
Threatening to begin a wildfire
Efflorescing, escaping encumbrance
Soon, a firm grasp on freedom
The freedom so prematurely served
Too early to be maximized
Incantations, whisper incantations
Silence the demented demons
An unconventional ritual
To fortify the continence
Ebbing continence
Another attempt made
Stall the impending debauchery
Enunciation is needed -
Esurience is never innate, but provoked
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 5:06 AM UTC
The salvation of yesterday's tomorrow
creeps blisterlingly by,
torturingly
resurrecting stale hopes of today's past.
In silence we dream of golden canals
and fluttering kisses
of the white man's world,
left superficially untouched by loose laws and pendulous light.
Only history's kings remain incumbent.
Zestless promises of the white fence linger ceaselessly in the campus of hippos
unencumbered by the passive revolt of tomorrow's yesterday yet
lost in the oceans of affirmative action
and unsteady governmental regimes.
Jun 15, 2013
Jun 15, 2013 at 9:36 PM UTC
You will meet clouds of people
Who enjoy you superficially
Give you moments of forgettable memories
You will meet stars of people
Who shine bright in your life
Touch your soul
Share their sparkle
And inspire you to be more
But If you open yourself to our universe
You may even meet the moon
Who will completely
Change your outlook on life
Who will light up your soul
Share her elegance
Reflect her vision
And feed your spirit
Jl 2017
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 12:58 PM UTC
I’ve got fire in my blood
that doesn’t seem to want to die resilient
I try to quench the hungry coals
But my youth is too strong
My mind alight
My yearning eyes and flesh
I’ve tried to quench
I’ve drowned and drowned to no avail.
I gave up, at one point.
I submitted to quiet life and told myself it’s what I wanted
I shuttered the flame – covered it, alleived the
intensity
but only
superficially.
I’ve since given up giving up
and resolved to restore my youth
which had been willingly
sacrificed
the juggernaut of playful recklessness
beating its fists against the inside of my ribcage
trying with all its might
to remind me that
I’m alive
It is wonderfully volatile
I had forgotten the allure of excitement
of feeling something again
So the fire man burns and beats
sending dangerous exotic enticing signals to my head
Floods me with potential energy
to be dispensed
unrestrained
by
caution.
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 7:56 PM UTC
i don´t really know what i want. i have been with so many boys, with so many personalities, i got stuck in so many smiles, and i can´t understand why i'm always so alone. i don't know what i'm searching for, it seems like no one is good enough for me, i feel like i could never be happy with anyone, even if this person loves me and everything but i can't stand with someone for so long and i feel like i am the problem and i sort of am. i don't know what i need, i am walking for a long and dark highway where i can't find nothing but myself, and i don't know where i want to get. i am so confused about me, it seems like i don't even know myself. i look at the mirror i don't have any problems with what i see superficially, but when i look inside of me i see absolutely nothing, i don't know if i am happy or sad, i feel like i don´t know myself. i feel like i'm not being true with people, i feel like i've been drowing into a deep sea where the water is so black i can't see where i am, i don't know if i will breath again an in this kind of situation, no one can help me. how could anyone understand me when i don't? i live so lost inside my way that i can't even say what i want my future to be, i don't have expectations about me and nothing can change that, i have always been a confused girl, since i was a kid, even when i was a kid i could see my future in a mist where i didn't know what i was going to turn out to be. i am walking ahead but i don't know if what i want is there, i feel like at anytime i can just regret everything i've been doing and just walk back and maybe turn to right or left. i don't know where i'm going to take myself but i am not expecting nothing and i'm not sticking out with anyone because i don't think anyone can handle my inconstant way without getting hurt.
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 12:10 AM UTC