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"taboos" poems
“Yorkshire! Yorkshire!” I hear the EDL scream, as if somehow the county, relates to their regime? Trying to push on others their far right views, and tainting Yorkshire with their taboos cos Yorkshire to me, is whatever the **** I want it to be, I do love a bit of local pride... maybe to revel in the comfort it provides, and even though stereotypes say we're tight, as well as stubborn, argumentative (they're prolly right), But I'd rather that, than be uptight, like a stereotypical southerner might I recently read a quote from Stuart Maconie, “England has a bottom half, but there isn't a south, in the same way there's a north” The North in the south means desolation, A cultural wasteland with deserted stations, a place built on violent, aggressive foundations, With mid summer Arctic temperature fluctuations, Nothing that comes close to a nation.... But that's not what I see, To be from the north means good fish and chips, with tomato sauce and vinegar, it's glory on the lips, I see people willing to lend a hand, A honest chat about the weather as you stand at a bus stop that you never planned, It doesn't matter whether it's a cob, bun, bap, barm or roll, Or that the north was ****** over by the outsourcing of coal, Or your opinion that we're all just sat on the dole, drinking tea out of a ***** bowl. We should still all have a similar goal, To have a good time, and not hurt a soul Sometimes I do like to revel in the divide, but I'll always welcome people from the other side, Acceptance is not sin, and if you let it, it generally ends up with a win : win What's Yorkshire to you? I haven't got a clue... but come sit down so we can have a chat and a brew! And hopefully we'll both learn something we never knew.
0
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 12:33 PM UTC
The Divide
“Yorkshire! Yorkshire!” I hear the EDL scream, as if somehow the county, relates to their regime? Trying to push on others their far right views, and tainting Yorkshire with their taboos cos Yorkshire to me, is whatever the **** I want it to be, I do love a bit of local pride... maybe to revel in the comfort it provides, and even though stereotypes say we're tight, as well as stubborn, argumentative (they're prolly right), But I'd rather that, than be uptight, like a stereotypical southerner might I recently read a quote from Stuart Maconie, “England has a bottom half, but there isn't a south, in the same way there's a north” The North in the south means desolation, A cultural wasteland with deserted stations, a place built on violent, aggressive foundations, With mid summer Arctic temperature fluctuations, Nothing that comes close to a nation.... But that's not what I see, To be from the north means good fish and chips, with tomato sauce and vinegar, it's glory on the lips, I see people willing to lend a hand, A honest chat about the weather as you stand at a bus stop that you never planned, It doesn't matter whether it's a cob, bun, bap, barm or roll, Or that the north was ****** over by the outsourcing of coal, Or your opinion that we're all just sat on the dole, drinking tea out of a ***** bowl. We should still all have a similar goal, To have a good time, and not hurt a soul Sometimes I do like to revel in the divide, but I'll always welcome people from the other side, Acceptance is not sin, and if you let it, it generally ends up with a win : win What's Yorkshire to you? I haven't got a clue... but come sit down so we can have a chat and a brew! And hopefully we'll both learn something we never knew.
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37
Starting from today I’m a free bird again Paving a new way Free from hurt and pain. Spread my wings Set to rise and fly Clear of these feelings All tears have run dry. Aches are like taboos Silent, unspeakable and painful Scars are like tattoos Exist, real yet beautiful. Tomorrow is a new day Start a new chapter Until the hair turns gray Let’s live life better.
0
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 8:31 PM UTC
Free Bird
You're a flower-child, spread on the bed with flowers stuck to your little head, with Ginsberg & Whitman on the shelf & feminine mystique dripping from the ceiling. Moon-lady, Venus, tides rising & crushing the shore, while I snuggle my flannel for warmth, trying not to be a bore. Framed pictures as you reminisce on when we were younger & untamed. "We can still be untamed, we've been framed for uninsanity!" But you call me a fool & put your porcelain head in my neck & I feel foolish. In the damp light of a cloudy day, muscles aching, waves crashing, uncontrollable urges. Stranded in the pregnant belly of a ***** secret city drawing the red rose of secret union & we are sheltered in the ****** warmth of the blankets, cocooned like little monsters. The calming ocean & the calming whispers & the tiny kisses surround me, blot out my thoughts. You sing me to sleep &  run little fingers through my knotted hair. Your tiny dollar store Buddhas belch incense over the backdrop of your perfume. The wind chimes twinkle & whimper on the porch where the swingset rocks in the rain. "I wish you weren't engaged but I don't mind breaking a few taboos." You laugh like a soft mad fairy & look down at your phone & I turn over on my naked side. You laugh a funeral giggle & I know I should have worshipped you sooner at the pillow-altar. Show me Heaven without death & the Garden of Earthly Delights devoid of sin, show me your sharpened fox grin & the way sunset ripples at your breath, I will show you sacrifice & the hidden light of our lives in the damp of the night.
0
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 10:48 PM UTC
After-Sex Poem
You're a flower-child, spread on the bed with flowers stuck to your little head, with Ginsberg & Whitman on the shelf & feminine mystique dripping from the ceiling. Moon-lady, Venus, tides rising & crushing the shore, while I snuggle my flannel for warmth, trying not to be a bore. Framed pictures as you reminisce on when we were younger & untamed. "We can still be untamed, we've been framed for uninsanity!" But you call me a fool & put your porcelain head in my neck & I feel foolish. In the damp light of a cloudy day, muscles aching, waves crashing, uncontrollable urges. Stranded in the pregnant belly of a ***** secret city drawing the red rose of secret union & we are sheltered in the ****** warmth of the blankets, cocooned like little monsters. The calming ocean & the calming whispers & the tiny kisses surround me, blot out my thoughts. You sing me to sleep &  run little fingers through my knotted hair. Your tiny dollar store Buddhas belch incense over the backdrop of your perfume. The wind chimes twinkle & whimper on the porch where the swingset rocks in the rain. "I wish you weren't engaged but I don't mind breaking a few taboos." You laugh like a soft mad fairy & look down at your phone & I turn over on my naked side. You laugh a funeral giggle & I know I should have worshipped you sooner at the pillow-altar. Show me Heaven without death & the Garden of Earthly Delights devoid of sin, show me your sharpened fox grin & the way sunset ripples at your breath, I will show you sacrifice & the hidden light of our lives in the damp of the night.
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78
procrastinating is my hobby, ask someone if you don't believe me , baby i lay around as i please & work at my own leisure, incredibly you fail to understand i am me and i love more then like the way that i am- gorgeous courageous coco golden skin, painfully i know you feel the threat of my momentous appeal keeps you you & yeah you -- mystified. guaranteed your days are filled with shock and frustration, haa haa hee how very exciting to me seeing your not as experienced as I, unlicensed to tame what i'd never give freely, repetitiously you've played the game, failure must be a sweet pill sallowed whole huh? adequately i compel my strengths -- my naivety makes my appeal that more interesting, call me uniquely imperfections rarely made in to what many can never comprehend, my life is my dialogue to my very own daily soap opera la di da da-- it's more then my sultry walk as i pass you on bye. in this corrupted jungle you have to win or be inhibited by what others may call taboos, whew weee your so serious, chasing prey only to tease-- lingering doubts? catch me-- i bet you can't. innocently the line's been crossed yet speak not of what should be! only-- this-- is what you'll know ; procrastinating is my hobby! I Am The Lioness! (some may be lost on what i wrote&say; but ok lol) Always Me Ayeshah
0
Mar 24, 2010
Mar 24, 2010 at 8:38 PM UTC
I Am The Lioness (a true Leo)
Over existence of such a woman With her faith had grown more not gone Inside there's a life of overjoyed power The power that will cry out loud up in a tower.. Fed by the world's grievance and despair Trying to hook up with its little winged pair How was life became such unfair? Like a treetops falling right at the tip of her hair She was once too in a womb before Then she taste life's bitter fruits and more Then she commit herself to a paradise in which they've made A childhood reborn is the price she have to pay.. In the darkness of her inner desire She created inside her womb a hundred folds fire Never minding what are the rules and what are the taboos She whisper her a song in her moments of blues.. There's a fragile crystal on her inner side Building a melody so soft like a mellow tide Against others will she remain so strong Hiding her sadness in a blissfulness of her song Then she lighten up a heart of stone by such a flickering fire An anguish had lost and the madness of desire And they follow her footsteps in a mystery of myth That once a child is born it will wash her feet..
0
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 4:39 AM UTC
== WOMB ==
What is a ********** But a woman Who partakes in joy with another A person who provides acceptance and pleasure: Both emotional and physical Despite being called ***** What is a ********** But a woman Who nurtures and loves another A person who provides pain and pleasure For those in need for a strong hand to the light Despite being called "crazy ***** What is a pornstar? But a woman Who has the courage to bare her body to the world A person who provides guidance and desire To those exploring their sexualities Despite being called **** What is a *** worker? But a woman Who breaks society's taboos A person who does what she loves For those who love her for what she does Despite being called "disgusting" ***** **** "sloppy" And so much more What is a *** worker? But a woman Who is beautiful, strong, empowered, and a truly liberated woman.
0
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 8:54 PM UTC
The *** Worker
The night was comfortable, branches lightly choreographed a dramatic reaction to the conversation beneath… spoken words breach the midnight hour by 2, and words are in place of sleep. They speak, but still pretend to have something worth to keep In silence now, no reaction. Walls and thoughts collide and they see the infraction. In a quick succession of contact, blood boils intuition becomes submissive. With the steam of these midnight hours rises away the taboos of love and loyalty, as intoxication devours any human decency. Breathing softly now; with eyes that berate the truth hiding behind the midnight-hour lies, they instigate innocent massage wars desperately wanting neither knowing how they plunge underneath these unbreakable ties. Now speechless they grasp one another speaking devilishly with eyes and even louder with the toils of their hands. Why do you run from surreptitious lies and hide behind your eyes? Say this is how you feel for one thing then when it’s around wear a disguise? Helpless you act toward desires that you conspire to You lit the match and now you must put out the fire.
0
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 5:45 PM UTC
Choreographed Midnight Surreptitiousness
The Artist is one who is not satisfied by the lies of society nor have they ever been, nor will they ever be. The Artist is one who reflects back the so carelessly discarded toxins of society so has it always been, so shall it always be. The Artist is not satisfied with what has been created, no matter the beauty so must it be for more beauty to be made. The Artist is not one for rules and regulations nor is he one for Authority unless that authority is the Creative. The Artist is the harbinger of God not in that he is of a particular religion, but in that he reflects the Divinity of reality even if in his own twisted, satirical way. The Artist is one who is compelled to imagine; who is compelled to challenge the norms as well as the taboos of their time The Artist is a Prophet of the Godself.
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Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 6:39 PM UTC
The Artist
That Old Drug Checklist? Completed. No Shame. So get over it. (It's rather colloquial, however, revealings as well. This is what I said to a boy from driver's ed who wanted to be my boyfriend... So I tried to scare him off. Hahaha. Rationale a la 15-year-old): Maple: It's not exactly something I talk about, ever, because it just demonstrates my insanity. But, I want to try everything. Every substance, every drug. Justin: Um, why? Maple: Why not? Justin: Well, cause it’s bad. Maple: If you believe in good or bad, right or wrong. I don't know what I believe except that we're all robots of each other and nothing matters anyways. Justin: Hmm, that’s a different way of thinking about it. I think that curiosity isn't bad, just be careful. . . Maple: I don't know if I am, but, meh. Is there really any good reason to do anything? Justin: Umm, no, not really. It’s what you feel, not what others feel. Well. . . just be careful. Maple: Safety is a conspiracy. Justin: Why do you say that? Maple: Think about it. You can insure everything you own, walk on the right side of the road and follow strong Christian morals that give the illusion of safety, as if you’ll go to heaven if you’re good and hell if you’re bad. But, with one fire, one plane crash. . . well it's all gone. The entirety of you. And who even knows if there is that insured heaven anyways? Justin: Hmm, you know I think that the way you think is very interesting and mostly true, I mean, nothing is ever completely safe. You can't always be careful, but I also think that you should use this and try to live life to its fullest. Maple: Thank you. But what is living life to it's fullest? Everyone always says that, but what does it mean? Justin: Well, like you, I know that what you’re doing is unhealthy, but your not afraid to try different things. You experience more then anyone else, cause most people play it safe in their comfort zone. Maple: Exactly! Always judging but never trying. Society has made these things into taboos, but are they really? I know that getting addicted is a terrible idea, but everything in moderation. Why always sit on the sidelines making assumptions behind whispered hands and backs? Why not jump into the game? Justin: Yep, that’s right. You can't sit there say that’s bad or you should do this if you haven't done it yourself. Because if you haven't, you don't know what it’s like and you’re being hypocritical. . . . Maple: Um. . . Says the boy who just told me not to do drugs “cause it’s bad.”
0
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 9:48 PM UTC
**** and ****** Super Are Lame and I'm Happy I Know It
That Old Drug Checklist? Completed. No Shame. So get over it. (It's rather colloquial, however, revealings as well. This is what I said to a boy from driver's ed who wanted to be my boyfriend... So I tried to scare him off. Hahaha. Rationale a la 15-year-old): Maple: It's not exactly something I talk about, ever, because it just demonstrates my insanity. But, I want to try everything. Every substance, every drug. Justin: Um, why? Maple: Why not? Justin: Well, cause it’s bad. Maple: If you believe in good or bad, right or wrong. I don't know what I believe except that we're all robots of each other and nothing matters anyways. Justin: Hmm, that’s a different way of thinking about it. I think that curiosity isn't bad, just be careful. . . Maple: I don't know if I am, but, meh. Is there really any good reason to do anything? Justin: Umm, no, not really. It’s what you feel, not what others feel. Well. . . just be careful. Maple: Safety is a conspiracy. Justin: Why do you say that? Maple: Think about it. You can insure everything you own, walk on the right side of the road and follow strong Christian morals that give the illusion of safety, as if you’ll go to heaven if you’re good and hell if you’re bad. But, with one fire, one plane crash. . . well it's all gone. The entirety of you. And who even knows if there is that insured heaven anyways? Justin: Hmm, you know I think that the way you think is very interesting and mostly true, I mean, nothing is ever completely safe. You can't always be careful, but I also think that you should use this and try to live life to its fullest. Maple: Thank you. But what is living life to it's fullest? Everyone always says that, but what does it mean? Justin: Well, like you, I know that what you’re doing is unhealthy, but your not afraid to try different things. You experience more then anyone else, cause most people play it safe in their comfort zone. Maple: Exactly! Always judging but never trying. Society has made these things into taboos, but are they really? I know that getting addicted is a terrible idea, but everything in moderation. Why always sit on the sidelines making assumptions behind whispered hands and backs? Why not jump into the game? Justin: Yep, that’s right. You can't sit there say that’s bad or you should do this if you haven't done it yourself. Because if you haven't, you don't know what it’s like and you’re being hypocritical. . . . Maple: Um. . . Says the boy who just told me not to do drugs “cause it’s bad.”
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20
Down dark alleys Which meanders deep in the midst of cities One would find the best kind of people Labelled as "outcasts". It is down these dark alleys Where the darkest thoughts are shared Where the "taboos" of society can be found.   Secrets shared are kept Promises said, never broken. The best things are shared amongst all So is the worst. Bustling with activities Down the alleys Warm smiles exchanged Along with heartfelt feelings. Dark alleys without light Are aflame with love That one can never find In the hustle and bustle of a hectic city life. Though poor in terms of material possessions,         They're rich with all the necessities,                That are needed to live a real life.         (c.c)
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Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 10:00 AM UTC
Dark alleys
“I have something for you to remember me by,” said Tim.     He held a little foam Hippo – the lone play animal supplied by the loonybin to patients in need.      It was brand new – just as every Hippo looked – and I wondered why he’d chosen something seemingly impersonal in comparison to his other, odd gifts.      However, what he did next made his hippo – my hippo – absolutely ideal. To people like Tim and I, that is.      For, to my astonishment, he casually took the toy in his hands, twisted, and ripped it cleanly  in two.      He ripped off its head, which he gave to me, whilst he kept the body.     I will never get rid of that mutilated, foam hippo head. For he understood what no one else had ever come near.      In this way – perhaps – Tim and I became synonyms. Synonyms for what ignorant perceptions would later christen ****** or merely, crazy (the latter - coined by those who remain too depressingly colloquial to invent unfounded diagnoses).      These epithets, catalyzed post personifying such societal taboos as Tim or I committed, follow me still, and have yet to disperse.         A criticaster disaster, personified.      Yes; in this way – Tim and I became synonymously insane. •
0
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 7:22 AM UTC
HospATTACK: Psych Ward Socios
Allow me to be bold- brave prying eyes and bare all. Allow me to tamper with excommunication- to tempt ostracism- to tease trouble by talking of taboos... speaking of shushed subjects- oh, society's little secrets, the ones we're all willing to share. Allow me to expound on the lessons parents never wanted to teach- the lessons children are so eager to learn. The very act- the very word- that induces giggles, inspires poets, excites lovers, and makes or breaks "true bliss." "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns." -V.N *** a word constructed of three of the twenty-six letters that make the English language go round. On their own, quite harmless, but collectively- a jaw-dropping, blush-inspiring, shush-provoking combination. *** the ultimate caricature of love and all that is romantic- oh, just look at this tangle of thorns. Tangled- because we have turned the beauty into a beast- taken "the two will become one"- and rationalized- two will always be two- Not you, me or me, you. No, nothing bad can come of this. *** used to make lies beautiful and truth obscured. Sold in society- the promoter of skin- condemned in the church- discouraged as sin. All the while, teenagers are toppling around- neck deep in lust- desperate to be loved- fumbling- tumbling into the open arms of the ultimate outlet. *** a shallow solution to a deeper problem- a gift given, unwrapped, re-wrapped, and given again. Allow me to attempt to untangle these thorns- when does making love become wrong? When it makes heroes into harlots and turns the righteous into romantics- when it complicates the uncomplicated? When it manipulates insincerity to seem sincere- liberates itself from simple mathematics, why, the more the merrier, and forgets three's a crowd? Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, allow me to be ridiculed- expose myself as a hypocrite and define: It is when *** is misconstrued as a mere act of "love" that it becomes a crime.
0
Aug 1, 2010
Aug 1, 2010 at 3:18 PM UTC
The Tangle Of Thorns
Allow me to be bold- brave prying eyes and bare all. Allow me to tamper with excommunication- to tempt ostracism- to tease trouble by talking of taboos... speaking of shushed subjects- oh, society's little secrets, the ones we're all willing to share. Allow me to expound on the lessons parents never wanted to teach- the lessons children are so eager to learn. The very act- the very word- that induces giggles, inspires poets, excites lovers, and makes or breaks "true bliss." "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns." -V.N *** a word constructed of three of the twenty-six letters that make the English language go round. On their own, quite harmless, but collectively- a jaw-dropping, blush-inspiring, shush-provoking combination. *** the ultimate caricature of love and all that is romantic- oh, just look at this tangle of thorns. Tangled- because we have turned the beauty into a beast- taken "the two will become one"- and rationalized- two will always be two- Not you, me or me, you. No, nothing bad can come of this. *** used to make lies beautiful and truth obscured. Sold in society- the promoter of skin- condemned in the church- discouraged as sin. All the while, teenagers are toppling around- neck deep in lust- desperate to be loved- fumbling- tumbling into the open arms of the ultimate outlet. *** a shallow solution to a deeper problem- a gift given, unwrapped, re-wrapped, and given again. Allow me to attempt to untangle these thorns- when does making love become wrong? When it makes heroes into harlots and turns the righteous into romantics- when it complicates the uncomplicated? When it manipulates insincerity to seem sincere- liberates itself from simple mathematics, why, the more the merrier, and forgets three's a crowd? Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, allow me to be ridiculed- expose myself as a hypocrite and define: It is when *** is misconstrued as a mere act of "love" that it becomes a crime.
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5
We live in a society that is reluctant to hold individuals accountable for their actions. They did this to him because of his smile. They did this to him because he was in the bar bathroom a long while. They did this to him because of his clothing style. The environment can create stimuli and stressors which trigger predispositions. Predispositions of behavioral tendencies to make bad decisions. They did this to her because they saw it on TV. They did this to her because nothing comes for free... or at least easy. They did this to her because of how they were raised by mommie. However, at the end of the day, you have ****** autonomy. Physically responsible for your own actions, you have damaged another human... being. You don't want to accept you could do something so heinous to another human's **** or ****** Morally responsible to actively educate, yourself. How to live in a world with other humans whom differ from you. People who you may not completely understand. She said no, but things happened so fast. Kept go-ing on, not for long he didn't last. He might have been interested at the start of the night, but wasn't trying to be perceived as putting up a fight, resisting what his assailant created, his forever tragic night. I'm not big on the concept of 'deviant behaviors' or 'social taboos.' Certain things however, you should know what to do. We violate others' rights, freedoms, privileges, happiness, mental stability, and personal well being. And For What? It doesn't matter if you're gay, like metal music, or get drunk, because We can't blame the color gray.   not tomorrow nor today. Don't sit, just stand, get up and say. Advocate that **** is wrong every innocent second of each precious day. more clearly defined, not merely social constructs within a particular society. Long story short; **** is Wrong. Get and Give Consent. Be Safe as well.
0
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 1:46 PM UTC
We can't blame the color Gray.
We live in a society that is reluctant to hold individuals accountable for their actions. They did this to him because of his smile. They did this to him because he was in the bar bathroom a long while. They did this to him because of his clothing style. The environment can create stimuli and stressors which trigger predispositions. Predispositions of behavioral tendencies to make bad decisions. They did this to her because they saw it on TV. They did this to her because nothing comes for free... or at least easy. They did this to her because of how they were raised by mommie. However, at the end of the day, you have ****** autonomy. Physically responsible for your own actions, you have damaged another human... being. You don't want to accept you could do something so heinous to another human's **** or ****** Morally responsible to actively educate, yourself. How to live in a world with other humans whom differ from you. People who you may not completely understand. She said no, but things happened so fast. Kept go-ing on, not for long he didn't last. He might have been interested at the start of the night, but wasn't trying to be perceived as putting up a fight, resisting what his assailant created, his forever tragic night. I'm not big on the concept of 'deviant behaviors' or 'social taboos.' Certain things however, you should know what to do. We violate others' rights, freedoms, privileges, happiness, mental stability, and personal well being. And For What? It doesn't matter if you're gay, like metal music, or get drunk, because We can't blame the color gray.   not tomorrow nor today. Don't sit, just stand, get up and say. Advocate that **** is wrong every innocent second of each precious day. more clearly defined, not merely social constructs within a particular society. Long story short; **** is Wrong. Get and Give Consent. Be Safe as well.
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36
I live in a world where a man's tears must be valiant warriors dressed in full regalia polished to such a finish as to be almost invisible just to exist where they must wage war against taboos and stereotypes cliched replays and replayed cliches "real men don't cry" "tears make you weak" But they don't see the strength it takes for me to let this go and let the tears flow d           d    o                  o      w                        w    n                               n my cheeks
0
Feb 7, 2012
Feb 7, 2012 at 2:46 PM UTC
Real men cry.
tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap Shhhhhhhhhhh drop your pen and drink your inks stop your words from polluting the clean slate minds of the youth let them memorize the ancient rules This world can't read what you're writing Arrange a funeral and bury your thinking Make it quick and be silent Don't let them know that you're different You can write? Good for you. Now go and hide, or else they'll come here too. tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap Shhhhhhhhhhh How dare you write against the tides about your views about the lies about the news and prostitutes and ****** abuse? This world is cruel, don't overthrow the rule of men who can only write tap-tap about women rights, tap-tap and the social issues, tap-tap and the silent taboos, tap-tap and the rich and the poor, tap-tap and about the schools which are producing   brain-washed fools. tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap Shhhhhhhhhhh Don't you know? They heard you too Run for your life, they're chasing you To erase your words and silence your voice To suffocate you In your own mind tap-tap, tap-tap You're still standing here, asking me why? Well, you're a threat to what they possess the power above all the power to play god to decide how we'll live and where and why and decide how we are going die. You're still too young, you haven't seen How they hide behind the walls of their own fragile masculinity and show their strength to scare you away Ironic how it reflects their own image. tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap Shhhhhhhhhhh Now here they are, calling you names with ***** meanings that they have made They're pulling you down, dragging you around, making sure you'll never make a sound. tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap,tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I know I know Oh, I know How hard it is to suffer all this a punishment of their own ****** sins It makes me wonder if they even will punish the angels on the last day for writing down their ***** ***** mistakes.
0
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 6:44 AM UTC
You're too young to write (the bitter truth)
tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap Shhhhhhhhhhh drop your pen and drink your inks stop your words from polluting the clean slate minds of the youth let them memorize the ancient rules This world can't read what you're writing Arrange a funeral and bury your thinking Make it quick and be silent Don't let them know that you're different You can write? Good for you. Now go and hide, or else they'll come here too. tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap Shhhhhhhhhhh How dare you write against the tides about your views about the lies about the news and prostitutes and ****** abuse? This world is cruel, don't overthrow the rule of men who can only write tap-tap about women rights, tap-tap and the social issues, tap-tap and the silent taboos, tap-tap and the rich and the poor, tap-tap and about the schools which are producing   brain-washed fools. tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap Shhhhhhhhhhh Don't you know? They heard you too Run for your life, they're chasing you To erase your words and silence your voice To suffocate you In your own mind tap-tap, tap-tap You're still standing here, asking me why? Well, you're a threat to what they possess the power above all the power to play god to decide how we'll live and where and why and decide how we are going die. You're still too young, you haven't seen How they hide behind the walls of their own fragile masculinity and show their strength to scare you away Ironic how it reflects their own image. tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap Shhhhhhhhhhh Now here they are, calling you names with ***** meanings that they have made They're pulling you down, dragging you around, making sure you'll never make a sound. tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap,tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I know I know Oh, I know How hard it is to suffer all this a punishment of their own ****** sins It makes me wonder if they even will punish the angels on the last day for writing down their ***** ***** mistakes.
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79
The murmur of the sly hours seize Panting the breath into violent grief, Love that disdains Leave anyone in despair. True link thus detests, All things in the world  disdains Other than dear ones loving heart. Love must ever be known for sincere That sincere love looks upon Mutual striving towards each other And the intensity of love looks upon Being upfront in and out With no taboos In sweet surrender. And the language of love looks upon The cravings to meet each other in the eyes,   Desperately seeking to tell the love And stare at each other until communicated And love be spoken as they meet And retreat in sweet dreams Like shining stars. Love is of the kind related to mind. Falling in love is such a wonderful feeling; It shines like a diamond Inside of the mind. When heart is broken, love is more cruel Than diamond particles slowly gaped in And times merriment forsaken. If love is not timely sought, Pain will never cease And pangs of death imminent. Love is not a gossamer in dew’d grass But a magic web of encircled kindness. Love is of the kind related to mind.
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Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 11:37 PM UTC
Love and Despair
I want to feel your lips pressed against mine as you moan my name while I surrender a smirk after you fall to my neck and form rose petals above my shoulders, I want to hear you speak when it’s late and no one’s awake when it’s you and me beneath the trees and the towers as we look from below captivated by the canvas above us, I wish to stay by your side when you tell me you must leave for your job or your mother and I wish to linger as well when you plead for my company as I ignore my family. If it weren’t against tradition I would plant flowers on you every time I’d think of your lips and if it weren’t for our religion I would sleep beside you in the most innocent of the phrase and literal in the sense to stay by your anatomy as our souls fly to the sky, I am reluctant to enunciate these words to you in worry that you’ll see me the same no longer because I hide behind a veil through my speech and my stance, the swaying and rustling skirt when I find myself dancing steps away from you as we stroll by the beach, Now I know this may not concern me but if I were to speak and unzip my censored language, I would tell you that I crave you and your mind and your body and your soul and I want you, all with your scars and your moles and the crooked smile which forms above your chin as you paint your lips against mine.
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May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 6:36 AM UTC
Exchanging Taboos
Well it must be true it's on Facebook! So much is said that isn't true He did that and she flew the coup ! Like this, like that it's all the same You wont cure cancer or heal a child's pain Follow a cause or like a page It's intellectual blackmail in a cyber age So how did we get so wrapped up Zuckerberg has sold us a pup It's an imaginary world with no taboos Who's with who and what they do No truth of any, in most of it It's a collective pile of bovine ****
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Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 3:26 PM UTC
Facebook
Life: "There are days when we are open to beauty." Some of them are not. Life is a marvelous Cat playing with It's pray. With us. Praying. For us? Sometimes I love To be taken By it's sweet surprises. Me thinks: "Taboos are there to remain intact!" Tragically Obedient To the law Of Attraction We dance as infatuated Dervishes dressed in trousers Flowing forth. Toward each other's all pervading Persistent exoplanets orbiting 'ur private passions: :   Knowing it' self, its potency Penetrating our thoughts Mighty male: "Might I Satisfy You?" I'm such An obsolete Amethyst, good for lucky charms and ready made domesticated potions. Imploded desires rise and fall Within the invisible canopy Of our dreams and glances Watch us! They rise and fall Magnetized Elated Chalices Rise and fall Luminated Fulfiled Flawless Unbreakable Like legends       Love!! Legends love to be loved In silence Of our hearts Heard and ingrained Deep within our souls. In this modest mode I pretend to be     Bemused by little things tossing   And turning me around   Just to forget your presence     And to remember         Your immortal spirit.               I yearn for you! Surpressed passion is all I have; And blue heaven arched upon Spellbound portals. Sheer Kan devour my hide in Seek in the shade. Moist Of the first creative act Blows the raven away Along scented mahogany At the modest shelter Of our habitual insanity of Sparks and stars Bursting into Flames. . .our Suppressed desires. . . Merging ~˘
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Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 4:30 PM UTC
Elevated Chalice & Keen Portals
Life: "There are days when we are open to beauty." Some of them are not. Life is a marvelous Cat playing with It's pray. With us. Praying. For us? Sometimes I love To be taken By it's sweet surprises. Me thinks: "Taboos are there to remain intact!" Tragically Obedient To the law Of Attraction We dance as infatuated Dervishes dressed in trousers Flowing forth. Toward each other's all pervading Persistent exoplanets orbiting 'ur private passions: :   Knowing it' self, its potency Penetrating our thoughts Mighty male: "Might I Satisfy You?" I'm such An obsolete Amethyst, good for lucky charms and ready made domesticated potions. Imploded desires rise and fall Within the invisible canopy Of our dreams and glances Watch us! They rise and fall Magnetized Elated Chalices Rise and fall Luminated Fulfiled Flawless Unbreakable Like legends       Love!! Legends love to be loved In silence Of our hearts Heard and ingrained Deep within our souls. In this modest mode I pretend to be     Bemused by little things tossing   And turning me around   Just to forget your presence     And to remember         Your immortal spirit.               I yearn for you! Surpressed passion is all I have; And blue heaven arched upon Spellbound portals. Sheer Kan devour my hide in Seek in the shade. Moist Of the first creative act Blows the raven away Along scented mahogany At the modest shelter Of our habitual insanity of Sparks and stars Bursting into Flames. . .our Suppressed desires. . . Merging ~˘
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73
Rebellion has many paths to tempt unwitting youth and none of them are new at all to tell the sorry truth Though every would-be anarchist would wish it left unsaid John Harrow makes the signposts with a top-hat on his head When picketing the fellowship a friend of mine declared "You have to know your enemy "To have him running scared!" dismantling the sacred text he'd bought the day before for every penny that he owned from Harrow's Bible store The scarlet headed lyricist sent shockwaves through the nation shattering taboos and knocking lumps from the foundation But Harrow wasn't shaken by this fiercely blazing star - he'd trained the stylist, named the songs and sold him his guitar A buzz is running through the streets as people take them back and occupy the land in global pacifist attack But wait - before you celebrate the fall of governments With factories in Vietnam John Harrow makes the tents Cos protest has its limits the establishment agrees we're free to go these tested routes like window-bumping bees You make your point, you go back home another day will pass and half-full or half-empty Mr. Harrow is the glass
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Jan 21, 2012
Jan 21, 2012 at 11:21 AM UTC
John Harrow
Every night from dusk until dawn Fantasies of a promiscuous angel Cradle my heart with great solace Serenading me with salacious whispers Originating from the world of the sexually elite The delectable foundation of this woman's shape Glided across the majestic incandescence of the moon Her skin moon bathing in the marvelous afterglow Her provocative body was like the tree of forbidden fruit One could simply look but was never allowed touch Deep inside I was desperately dying to taste Of the nectarous heaven of her lustful treats However I inhaled the aroma of her hypnotically ****** scent For it was airborne and suckering me in with remarkable ease Injecting me with an elixir of opulent passion and zealous elation This charming woman gives me taboos of a cutting edge nature Always leaving me upon my knees crawling back for more Oh, foxy woman forever you may haunt my fantasies
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Oct 10, 2011
Oct 10, 2011 at 4:43 AM UTC
Nacreous Taboo