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"tabooed" poems
Step into my universe You'll see only words In my mind, flurry of feathers Hurricane of riled up birds. They amass and circulate Searching to break free Storm of ink; doesn't abate Bleed out for no one to see. *Hidden inside my heart Forbidden words I long to convey Teach me how to start With you I foist to play.* Words veiled by silent secrecy, Cloaked words I long to shout Bordering the point of heresy Tabooed words without doubt. Almost an eternity I've whispered With care and only hushed tones Well kept secret undiscovered Laying quiet under unturned stones. Thought myself alone when I heard another One that sings choral to my own A mournful call that sang together Grey melodies embodied in skin and bone. *The cravings of my heart Your words I wish to fill In my head occupies the biggest part Our declaration's the only seal. A vow you and I made A love we wish to last forever Dismissing that opportunities evade Who would need a supporting paper. Hidden softness within me Only you can tap and enjoy The only one that holds the key Heart and mind meet to employ.* Our hearts, like kings, would've risen Adorned and bejewelled on their crests Let us sing in unrehearsed unison Crowned words we've locked in our chests. IamMsIves rhymesmith
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Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 8:21 AM UTC
Crowned Words (Collaboration of Two Hearts Reciting as One)
*the droplets of water are singing a trail down the bricks of the houses through the alleys of the glassy-eyed broken people with soft hearts, a pre-disposition for death weaving a tabooed trail across the sidewalks that when gazed upon reeks of obscurity and leaving faint lines on the creased skin of all the sinewy fatalities the mildewed rain peaks across the rusted windowsill that sighs with familiarity it sloshes against the children’s playground and slaps at the pavement with a sudden clarity it empties itself into the spiked maze of the tree branch hoping the leafs will cling onto to it dearly it mellows into a pond that breaks apart with sharp staccatos when mushy feet run down the street and it hurls itself into the bitterly sweet lips of two frost-bitten lovers who will soon meet it daintily steps into the burning embers of the flame, only to be flushed out in shame it turns to the shower as a last resort, but whines in dismay when it’s slurped down the drain it embraces the eyelashes until it’s shaken in misery and then watches wearily as it’s blinked away in positivity it lumbers down the path of the bruised ego, a shattering of phrases that leaves the person’s mouth and before it has the chance to drop it is scooped up and chastised until it moves no more the tears and the rain drops wander listlessly for all of eternity only to be hastily thrown away or brushed into cotton for fear of a restless divinity it is never to reach a destination and only doomed to be forgotten and so it seems dear friends, that raindrops are simply you and me*
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Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
the weary tale of a raindrop
*the droplets of water are singing a trail down the bricks of the houses through the alleys of the glassy-eyed broken people with soft hearts, a pre-disposition for death weaving a tabooed trail across the sidewalks that when gazed upon reeks of obscurity and leaving faint lines on the creased skin of all the sinewy fatalities the mildewed rain peaks across the rusted windowsill that sighs with familiarity it sloshes against the children’s playground and slaps at the pavement with a sudden clarity it empties itself into the spiked maze of the tree branch hoping the leafs will cling onto to it dearly it mellows into a pond that breaks apart with sharp staccatos when mushy feet run down the street and it hurls itself into the bitterly sweet lips of two frost-bitten lovers who will soon meet it daintily steps into the burning embers of the flame, only to be flushed out in shame it turns to the shower as a last resort, but whines in dismay when it’s slurped down the drain it embraces the eyelashes until it’s shaken in misery and then watches wearily as it’s blinked away in positivity it lumbers down the path of the bruised ego, a shattering of phrases that leaves the person’s mouth and before it has the chance to drop it is scooped up and chastised until it moves no more the tears and the rain drops wander listlessly for all of eternity only to be hastily thrown away or brushed into cotton for fear of a restless divinity it is never to reach a destination and only doomed to be forgotten and so it seems dear friends, that raindrops are simply you and me*
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18
............................................... on the.................................................                                         moth eaten pages,                                                      i pen                                             the discovery,                                                 i dread                                              my existence                                              in this world.                                 in the abode of black men,                                among the filth of mankind,                         scattered in those dimly lighten ghettos                             relaying an unforgivable legacy                                                 i stood                                    as a moss covered relic                               silhouetted against the light                                              a moppet,                                 born in this tabooed world                                     a scar upon my kins                                 who likely preferred a boy                                                 biped,                                  standing alone in the moor                                           beheld a future                                         turned into debris                                                 like flies ,                                   swarming around a glare                                   many a cold hapless eyes ,                                                    i met                                         hovering over me                                       eyeing me - a hellion                                  and soon they drew my fate                                                 every door                                          shut upon my face                                                 forcing me                                         to creep in to corners                                                   and live                                           under the shadows                                    to defy them proved grim                                         only to be hugged                                     often by heartless whips                                  or burnt by cigarette thuds                                           thus like a ****                                       amid st the bean stalk                                           they uprooted me                                              from their lives                                       and thawed my efforts                                            to seek the world                                              after all who am i                                                      a girl                                                   yes a girl                                                    a taboo....                                                or a disgrace?                                                  i was killed                               murdered...in my mothers womb                                             my blood spilled                                             before i was born                                             before i could see                                          before i could breath                                              they choked me                                                    to death                                                    from life                                                     from                                                        me ....
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May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 10:02 AM UTC
my existence.....
............................................... on the.................................................                                         moth eaten pages,                                                      i pen                                             the discovery,                                                 i dread                                              my existence                                              in this world.                                 in the abode of black men,                                among the filth of mankind,                         scattered in those dimly lighten ghettos                             relaying an unforgivable legacy                                                 i stood                                    as a moss covered relic                               silhouetted against the light                                              a moppet,                                 born in this tabooed world                                     a scar upon my kins                                 who likely preferred a boy                                                 biped,                                  standing alone in the moor                                           beheld a future                                         turned into debris                                                 like flies ,                                   swarming around a glare                                   many a cold hapless eyes ,                                                    i met                                         hovering over me                                       eyeing me - a hellion                                  and soon they drew my fate                                                 every door                                          shut upon my face                                                 forcing me                                         to creep in to corners                                                   and live                                           under the shadows                                    to defy them proved grim                                         only to be hugged                                     often by heartless whips                                  or burnt by cigarette thuds                                           thus like a ****                                       amid st the bean stalk                                           they uprooted me                                              from their lives                                       and thawed my efforts                                            to seek the world                                              after all who am i                                                      a girl                                                   yes a girl                                                    a taboo....                                                or a disgrace?                                                  i was killed                               murdered...in my mothers womb                                             my blood spilled                                             before i was born                                             before i could see                                          before i could breath                                              they choked me                                                    to death                                                    from life                                                     from                                                        me ....
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61
Ariadne liked her *** best on an armchair or the sofa with her lover Bernice, in charge of the *** games, especially those involving sweat cream being slowly licked off of her body, or a warm tongue moving between her naked thighs, which, through pleasure over again, brought the warm tears to her dark eyes. And in moments reflecting back to her childhood and her father's cruel sadistic abusive ways, she wondered how over the years, she kept intact inside her mind and injured heart and tortured skin, the deep seated capacity to allow love not to be spoilt, or the places he had tainted, to be tabooed to her lover, especially when she slowly slides her finger along her spine or between legs satisfying her paradise, her pudendum, as her lover, laughing, calls it. But most of all, despite the past of abusive hurts and foul touch, she still has that ability to overcome the dark years, to love her hot lover, Bernice, that **** ***** all too human, and all too much.
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Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 2:17 AM UTC
ARIADNE'S ALL TOO MUCH.
Oh! that you were born on Wednesday then thou can doth as wednesday does tis not thy fate to ply that road Look away now child, fight not the cards tis not your fate, tis not your fate for only maidens wend to war and horses ride for ye are the offspring of Wednesday tis not your station to question wherefore think not of it my child, let fate decide It is tabooed to search for the eagle's nest only they were borne to doth these things thy worth, tis ransomed by thy skin resplendent as a future past, that never beest and lo that road was never walked By him Or her Or we Or they
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Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 6:01 AM UTC
Only For Wednesday
we tripped up the stairs when we were kids not knowing it was a metaphor for what was to come together, we huddled over laughing when we reached the top since the stumbles left bruises on our knees but never on our souls unlike the steps we climb now that take us to floors we never meant to go to and though I have seen you fall so many times, my brother each time you rise with a grace that triumphs your exhausted eyelids and burned brain, remnants of the tabooed chemicals we made pinky-promises never to do none of it touched the sincerity behind your crooked smile the boy that walked me home from school when our mom was too busy is still in those baby brown eyes that wave at me even over the telephone to be honest, my brother you give me more hope than any self-help book through the struggle, sorrow, and Celexa never surrendering to the stairs of life and just like children you hold out your hand to help me up though my knees are too sore my heart too battered one day I will join you on the second floor
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Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 11:37 PM UTC
to my favorite boy
This words are my own to scandalize, throw it directly in your face, scream them encrush them and swallow in silence as a pois a porter at a tabooed cablooed bar drinking bottles of brewed cougar gulping bitter pills small tokens of forgotten abandoned little peoples Taboo Words: heartbreak, blob, writersblock anguish, drunkdead, motherfu
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Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 6:29 AM UTC
Tabooed Cablooed Bar
the spoils of ego have created the vile and the grasps of men's malevolence will raise the hairs on the fallen arm the snaking graze bringing diaphragms to a chill and the eye of lost men reflecting to the churning sky brimming with echos of lost contraptions in time the pockets of dream viewers upon heart's decline and the whisper of one final, sweet bliss the clamor of doubt sunk like wounded icicles the gleam of one's bone under lampshade glow and the lingering touch of medallion thrones the greed of man washes over ashore upon the silhouetted fingers of children tomorrow and the affection of what's promised will wander soon to the forages of tabooed swelling yonder simmering in the ashes broken into fragments eroded into sands of time to slip through palms and as the day spin on its axis twisting men's gaze to crunch into manifesting feats to brink a think that they must all abide to the fists of iron and crunch of another bone how they dare treat another soul in such fruitless fashion and ambition lacking in direction their virtues of moral must stand on a compass without it, they cease to be pinned to a brick because their heads are too thick and don't for a second think that they are able to keep the walls fortified, for it too will sink and they shall fall to their knees if they refuse to listen and keep their shiny egos shaved to a comfortable narrow
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Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 8:15 PM UTC
The Tale of Ego
for all the things labeled in the exterior mirages of turpentine reeking layers worn lavishly by red lipstick and silver tailored suits, light illuminating marble counter tops dusted by the next-thousand-block immigrant the mother of four beautiful children she clashes with the detriment of money which filters back to champagne of that red lipstick, the silver tailored suit a million floors above encased within their own skeleton they peel their skin so not to feel a thing stuffed in a daycare tabooed because of its door handle touched by mothers working wage to meet end's meet children skipping their shoes on the stains of the concrete underneath their feet and not realizing a thing the mother bustles through alone but surrounded by grease seething into the cracks of her heels while her children grows by the tick into the template configured by society the smear of red lipstick the wrinkle in the silver tailored suit the system of trickle down economy have gone down the throats of so many lives as a diluted joker waving a flag sewn with white this age of decadence chooses to blind its kin reality has been remodeled into a Hollywood basement
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Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 7:16 PM UTC
Age of Decadence
His bright, white haze had always held him trapped, Kept him blinded in hallowed embraces, Scarcely breathing, trying stiff to adapt, Teasing him with glimpses of tabooed places. He lusted for freedom from perfection, To fly vaguely in dangerous waters, Incessantly gaining disaffection, For the lastest fictions he had uttered. Another offered a chance at freedom, Skeptical of the darkness surrounding, Clouded mind knowing that accepting him, Results in a contract always binding. Exhausted of sacred blessings he turned, From angel’s love and in Tartarus burned.
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Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 10:24 AM UTC
In The Eyes of Another
Sometimes we don't know why? Sometimes we don't understand When we look into each others eye's We know deep down, We are meant to be Our love is tabooed I want you to take me out of this dream I can't live another day without you in my arms You are the only one I trust I am nothing with out you You make me feel better when I feel down Our love is like a never ending high Why do we hide our love for each other? Lets not let our love fade away
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Mar 9, 2012
Mar 9, 2012 at 12:06 PM UTC
The Love With In
Strangulation marks on necks Tendon scars on wrists Someone wants them near Who is the normal one out of here? They are the ones who bring on troubles The ones who are troubled Doubting, scared, tabooed Pills and needles; we’re subdued White robe opening the blinds Who is this guy Let in some light Into this shady existence They are the ones who are distanced Brought to the state of nonexistence Something’s wrong in mechanism Of playing a certain role In this world And no way to repair They are there And still they are not there Stumbling, crying, wanking Cutting, suffocating Fighting, hating Forever waiting… They can now stop from doing this They’re masters of their flesh and bone But what is it like to live a life like this To fight and be fought when you’re left all alone
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Nov 23, 2017
Nov 23, 2017 at 11:53 AM UTC
we are normal nuts
anger was tabooed to death. but it never meant to hurt anyone it only wanted to protect .... After the funeral someone had to replace the job. after the burial of the emotion depression moved into office
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Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 8:46 PM UTC
anger
Tabooed twice Makes me want it double Oh the trouble But I’d get in it for you I don’t know how it works Opposities in every way Yet the magnetism is of massive proportions The fireworks we lit Were right under us We soared high into the sky In order to fly We must sacrifice But the pinks and purples the yelllows and reds Make me see only you It’s as if you see things with crystal sharp sincerity And seeing you from across the room just knowing your presence is equivalent An ice bath of stardust with somehow still steam Just compares to nothing You are my dreams
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Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 12:04 AM UTC
A R D E N T