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"tantalized" poems
the grass quiver tantalized well tuned strings plucked by those hands of the churning wind passing by…. passing by. the leaves gyrate in tune dancing on the chords echoing in the stillness whispering then and then to go on…. to go on. the sound of monkeys adding leafy rhythms with their jumps and turns a mad crescendo high and low…. high and low. floating with the song joy an ocean in each pore my mind still and yet on a magic carpet that swirls here and there…. here and there. © Malintha Perera 2014
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Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 1:04 PM UTC
Forest Song
Nov 2016 - The Fall Line ~ *all the lines of man-made yellows, so tempting threatening...inviting, the subway platform, the street curb, the highway divide the double parallel equal sign that has no solution, remaining hopelessly empty, defining the watery soluble inequality of null* ~~ The Fall Line first heard the phrase months ago in Argentina, standing before the c-shaped Iguazu Falls the fall line where the crystalline basement rock erodes away the oncoming soft sedimentary, there, where, a waterfall is nature-gifted so intuitive, so obvious, what else to call the water's owned edge, line of demarcation, where we grow captivated, mesmerized, knee weak, traumatized and tantalized knew that instant when spoken, The Fall Line, saw inarguable symmetry to so many lives, would be a someday poem selective service phrases stored and someday up recalled, a thousand, maybe more, waiting for the confluence of time and place, to be a mother letting my fluid sac burst, giving birth to a concoction symphonic, the emotions waterfalling, cascading, the precision, vision seconds, when words pour, gush, surge, spill, stream, flow, issue, spurt ~~~ silently crafted in the weeks and months prior, the unconscious drowning in ache and pain of suffocating drudge sludge of everyday living *all the lines of man made yellows, so tempting threatening...inviting the subway platform, the street curb, the highway divide the double parallel equal sign that has no solution remaining empty, defining the inequality of null* the vision infection of the majestic fall line, so accessible in an instance of overwhelm, cornea implanted, the sounding call of sweet blissful whatever one more additional addiction unshakeable, jumping from fall line to fall line, it's the game I am played, but the controller is not in my possess **for the joy stick that drives my actions, toys with me, the human fool jumping from fall line to fall line, unsure of what he desires,** salvation or saving 11/26/16
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Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 9:41 PM UTC
Nov 2016 - The Fall Line
Nov 2016 - The Fall Line ~ *all the lines of man-made yellows, so tempting threatening...inviting, the subway platform, the street curb, the highway divide the double parallel equal sign that has no solution, remaining hopelessly empty, defining the watery soluble inequality of null* ~~ The Fall Line first heard the phrase months ago in Argentina, standing before the c-shaped Iguazu Falls the fall line where the crystalline basement rock erodes away the oncoming soft sedimentary, there, where, a waterfall is nature-gifted so intuitive, so obvious, what else to call the water's owned edge, line of demarcation, where we grow captivated, mesmerized, knee weak, traumatized and tantalized knew that instant when spoken, The Fall Line, saw inarguable symmetry to so many lives, would be a someday poem selective service phrases stored and someday up recalled, a thousand, maybe more, waiting for the confluence of time and place, to be a mother letting my fluid sac burst, giving birth to a concoction symphonic, the emotions waterfalling, cascading, the precision, vision seconds, when words pour, gush, surge, spill, stream, flow, issue, spurt ~~~ silently crafted in the weeks and months prior, the unconscious drowning in ache and pain of suffocating drudge sludge of everyday living *all the lines of man made yellows, so tempting threatening...inviting the subway platform, the street curb, the highway divide the double parallel equal sign that has no solution remaining empty, defining the inequality of null* the vision infection of the majestic fall line, so accessible in an instance of overwhelm, cornea implanted, the sounding call of sweet blissful whatever one more additional addiction unshakeable, jumping from fall line to fall line, it's the game I am played, but the controller is not in my possess **for the joy stick that drives my actions, toys with me, the human fool jumping from fall line to fall line, unsure of what he desires,** salvation or saving 11/26/16
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67
Remember the indescribable insanity of our fiery love. Remember the sensation of lips as I caressed your soft skin; Remember how you melted in my arms as my breath warmed your ears in whisper. Remember the goosebumps as my hands ran across your sweet delicate skin. Remember the sweltering heat that rose as I opened your dress, Remember the cool air stroking your smooth silk skin as it fell to the floor, Remember the warmth of our bodies as I pressed you tightly flesh to flesh, Remember that tingle as you clenched your legs while I nibbled your ear, Remember the feeling of eternity as you slowly straddled me to the floor, Remember the scent of our passion as we tantalized, Remember the piercing trance of desire, Remember the penetrating ecstasy of release as you reach your peak, Remember the night you and I became a man and woman.
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Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 12:44 PM UTC
Sensual Sensations
Thank Heaven! the crisis— The danger is past, And the lingering illness Is over at last— And the fever called “Living” Is conquered at last. Sadly, I know, I am shorn of my strength, And no muscle I move As I lie at full length— But no matter!—I feel I am better at length. And I rest so composedly, Now in my bed, That any beholder Might fancy me dead— Might start at beholding me Thinking me dead. The moaning and groaning, The sighing and sobbing, Are quieted now, With that horrible throbbing At heart:—ah, that horrible, Horrible throbbing! The sickness—the nausea— The pitiless pain— Have ceased, with the fever That maddened my brain— With the fever called “Living” That burned in my brain. And oh! of all tortures That torture the worst Has abated—the terrible Torture of thirst, For the naphthaline river Of Passion accurst:— I have drank of a water That quenches all thirst:— Of a water that flows, With a lullaby sound, From a spring but a very few Feet under ground— From a cavern not very far Down under ground. And ah! let it never Be foolishly said That my room it is gloomy And narrow my bed— For man never slept In a different bed; And, to sleep, you must slumber In just such a bed. My tantalized spirit Here blandly reposes, Forgetting, or never Regretting its roses— Its old agitations Of myrtles and roses: For now, while so quietly Lying, it fancies A holier odor About it, of pansies— A rosemary odor, Commingled with pansies— With rue and the beautiful Puritan pansies. And so it lies happily, Bathing in many A dream of the truth And the beauty of Annie— Drowned in a bath Of the tresses of Annie. She tenderly kissed me, She fondly caressed, And then I fell gently To sleep on her breast— Deeply to sleep From the heaven of her breast. When the light was extinguished, She covered me warm, And she prayed to the angels To keep me from harm— To the queen of the angels To shield me from harm. And I lie so composedly, Now in my bed (Knowing her love) That you fancy me dead— And I rest so contentedly, Now in my bed, (With her love at my breast) That you fancy me dead— That you shudder to look at me. Thinking me dead. But my heart it is brighter Than all of the many Stars in the sky, For it sparkles with Annie— It glows with the light Of the love of my Annie— With the thought of the light Of the eyes of my Annie.
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4.4k
For Annie
Thank Heaven! the crisis— The danger is past, And the lingering illness Is over at last— And the fever called “Living” Is conquered at last. Sadly, I know, I am shorn of my strength, And no muscle I move As I lie at full length— But no matter!—I feel I am better at length. And I rest so composedly, Now in my bed, That any beholder Might fancy me dead— Might start at beholding me Thinking me dead. The moaning and groaning, The sighing and sobbing, Are quieted now, With that horrible throbbing At heart:—ah, that horrible, Horrible throbbing! The sickness—the nausea— The pitiless pain— Have ceased, with the fever That maddened my brain— With the fever called “Living” That burned in my brain. And oh! of all tortures That torture the worst Has abated—the terrible Torture of thirst, For the naphthaline river Of Passion accurst:— I have drank of a water That quenches all thirst:— Of a water that flows, With a lullaby sound, From a spring but a very few Feet under ground— From a cavern not very far Down under ground. And ah! let it never Be foolishly said That my room it is gloomy And narrow my bed— For man never slept In a different bed; And, to sleep, you must slumber In just such a bed. My tantalized spirit Here blandly reposes, Forgetting, or never Regretting its roses— Its old agitations Of myrtles and roses: For now, while so quietly Lying, it fancies A holier odor About it, of pansies— A rosemary odor, Commingled with pansies— With rue and the beautiful Puritan pansies. And so it lies happily, Bathing in many A dream of the truth And the beauty of Annie— Drowned in a bath Of the tresses of Annie. She tenderly kissed me, She fondly caressed, And then I fell gently To sleep on her breast— Deeply to sleep From the heaven of her breast. When the light was extinguished, She covered me warm, And she prayed to the angels To keep me from harm— To the queen of the angels To shield me from harm. And I lie so composedly, Now in my bed (Knowing her love) That you fancy me dead— And I rest so contentedly, Now in my bed, (With her love at my breast) That you fancy me dead— That you shudder to look at me. Thinking me dead. But my heart it is brighter Than all of the many Stars in the sky, For it sparkles with Annie— It glows with the light Of the love of my Annie— With the thought of the light Of the eyes of my Annie.
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102
the steady rhythm of the hummingbird wings and tantalized by the scent of sweet nectar that comes from the button brown-eyed field of yellow sunflowers
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Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC
Brown-Eyed Sunflowers
The most beautiful hour in L.A. is 3 A.M., when, petals of lavender peep through wooden blinds, lulling restless minds laid on Egyptian Cotton candy clouds amuse me. Because as I close my eyes, I realize, that here, there is no starry night because this beautiful haze is light pollution. But pollutions' hue calms a city mind. Like sirens quell eager ears, And liquor tickles tantalized tongues, And words flow from numb knuckles, And insomnia wets drying eyes, I, am struck, that this lavender haze helps me see that too much is always what I need.
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Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 2:28 PM UTC
Lavender Haze
The road is Wet and cold The rain falls down like Dark tears The scars of Your beautiful face Made me cry You rest your Tired head In my arms As your frame Falls still I lower my head Close my eyes I call out In despair I am forever Trapped in this hell Without you So listen now To my love An undying truth Fades away in The rain I was captive in the dark Which held me from you And tantalized my mind You fell apart As you saved me But oh woe The cost was Too high I dug you A rememberance Of our past and future And I simply limp away And I become engulfed By the dark shadows Once again
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Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 8:12 PM UTC
Dark Tears
Tipsy daze were just foreplay for the passionate midnight sexcapades. Every Sunday Drinking champaign, Not practicing self-restraint Sneaking into privet estates Dive into the grotto pool. My late night wicked pagan lover, Two lonely hearts bonded over confessions in the dark. We were nympholepts in retrospect. All clinquant, in gold light But turned to heathens, in the night. Dancing in rhythmic eruptions of fevered delight. Wondering eyes are tantalized You are luxurious, feral, **** boy personified. I was mystified by the wild & eroticized by the style. A Huckleberry Finn identical twin, ohh but of corse -You had a Porsche.
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Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 4:34 AM UTC
Golden Hour
Forgetting about that uptight blight. Emanate apathy Unapologetically. Cheers to you Baby Jesus, I'm all jacked up on pink Moscato; by noon. Without a clue of what to do Retreat to a beach For a gala beset by an erubescent sunset. What marry monarchs, All clinquant, in gold light All turn to heathens, in the night. Perpetually transfixed By a curious mix of Rhythmic eruptions & fevered delight Like fairies & nymphs Amidst the moon of misbehaving. Wondering eyes are tantalized You are luxurious, feral, **** boy personified. I was mystified by the wild & eroticized by the style. A Huckleberry Finn identical twin, ohhh but of course — You had a Porsche. But we were far from bonafide. All is well, Who really gives a **** about a relationship cuff… I was inherently drawn to the effervescence, of your soul. Together in disconnected bubbles Like a glass of champagne, Sparkling to the surface effortlessly. Daytime friends and nighttime lovers; Nympholepts in retrospect, Carefully tip-toeing around Blossoming curiously & compromising cantor. Over winsome side-long looks The burgundy hardtop drops down Into my body & out of my mind Tipsy daze were just foreplay For the passionate midnight sexcapades. A midsummer’s night moonlit dream Manifested midst the trysts of Spring. Every Sunday Drinking champagne, Not practicing self-restraint Sneaking into private estates Dive into the grotto pool. Worshiping the Sun, not the saint. My late night lover show me your wicked pagan birthright. Two lonely hearts bonded over confessions in the dark.
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Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 10:11 PM UTC
Spring into Melancholy
Forgetting about that uptight blight. Emanate apathy Unapologetically. Cheers to you Baby Jesus, I'm all jacked up on pink Moscato; by noon. Without a clue of what to do Retreat to a beach For a gala beset by an erubescent sunset. What marry monarchs, All clinquant, in gold light All turn to heathens, in the night. Perpetually transfixed By a curious mix of Rhythmic eruptions & fevered delight Like fairies & nymphs Amidst the moon of misbehaving. Wondering eyes are tantalized You are luxurious, feral, **** boy personified. I was mystified by the wild & eroticized by the style. A Huckleberry Finn identical twin, ohhh but of course — You had a Porsche. But we were far from bonafide. All is well, Who really gives a **** about a relationship cuff… I was inherently drawn to the effervescence, of your soul. Together in disconnected bubbles Like a glass of champagne, Sparkling to the surface effortlessly. Daytime friends and nighttime lovers; Nympholepts in retrospect, Carefully tip-toeing around Blossoming curiously & compromising cantor. Over winsome side-long looks The burgundy hardtop drops down Into my body & out of my mind Tipsy daze were just foreplay For the passionate midnight sexcapades. A midsummer’s night moonlit dream Manifested midst the trysts of Spring. Every Sunday Drinking champagne, Not practicing self-restraint Sneaking into private estates Dive into the grotto pool. Worshiping the Sun, not the saint. My late night lover show me your wicked pagan birthright. Two lonely hearts bonded over confessions in the dark.
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47
This is a bitter hallucination. A group of love longers and constellations, that fill and **** my heart. If it was only I could touch the sky, feel the wind as I start to fly, higher and higher, I dare to go. Just to descend graciously to the ground and show that I'm no stranger to the lengths that I go. Have mercy on me, on my tantalized heart.. you were just a fixation, a hallucination. You had me by every word, every curve of you swaying, as if the motion was made by angels. if love is a noose then I am the hangman, hanging there effortlessly, with life no longer ripe upon my cheek. Only the angelic voice of my hearts true beholder with held the mellifluous tone of my broken days. I grimace at the thoughts that lead me to believing in your leechy ways. The grotesque touch of your filthy ****** hands on mine making me cringe and imbue nothing but the shame of falling in love with a hallucination. A bitter-sweet, traumatizing, hallucination.
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Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 12:32 PM UTC
Hallucinations.
Thistle pricked and tantalized by the hypnotist, the heliotrope sunrise seemed bitter, offensive at best. Ill-fated, my Magna Carta has been stripped. Crossroads approach, I begin chewing at my bottom lip. A simply shady azure, lewd blue lingered our lime love had been missed. Departing, destructive at best.
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Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 9:05 PM UTC
The Destructive Departure
The pool of rain shadowed the sun, dancing with a tepid demeanor. City lights' glamour reduced the light of the sun—melancholy was evident on her face, accompanied by the distinguished incorporeal's breath of air. The late-afternoon tea and dried-out smoke of snowy November.  It turned into night; the sun was still blatantly drowning in the pool of light, where a small trickle of its shadows tantalized the mockery arrayed in her face. Followed by the sickness in her stomach, pinching herself as she naively believed he loved her for all she is.  After all, he was the one who called her a goddess and even paralleled her in the universe in which Aphrodite takes part. Surprisingly and naively, still believed conspicuous lies. It scarred her. A mountain that cannot be climbed; a river where blood flows continuously; a garden full of thorns. The face of a fool.  The glamour wore off when he saw her on stage, where all of his queens and muses were. He wasn't even paying attention to her, and yet she was the only one who performed on stage—she rose and fell; she sang and moved like a goddess, surprising and naively believing he could take back her youth.  He watched her rise.  He watched her fall.  He watched her lose her life.  She hopelessly believed, with her skin and bones, that he'd choose her this time. He didn't.
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Mar 9, 2024
Mar 9, 2024 at 3:28 PM UTC
The Face of A Fool
A tantalized spirit Delves into my spine It dictates my breathing, It quickens my saunter I see filth in my mind, In my decaying lungs, On the palms of my hands Muck where virtue once resided Virtue untainted by original sin “O’ God free me” No reply The spirit seizes each prayer If the spirit within should perish Or plague babes hereafter It is negligible For every breast carries putrid milk Every infant grows And matures into a gruesome sight Every wave peaks And culminates Every day passes Every harmonious sound shall cease
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Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 6:51 PM UTC
Repetition
I wonder how you feel to-day As I have felt since, hand in hand, We sat down on the grass, to stray In spirit better through the land, This morn of Rome and May? For me, I touched a thought, I know, Has tantalized me many times, (Like turns of thread the spiders throw Mocking across our path) for rhymes To catch at and let go. Help me to hold it! First it left The yellow fennel, run to seed There, branching from the brickwork’s cleft, Some old tomb’s ruin: yonder **** Took up the floating weft, Where one small orange cup amassed Five beetles,—blind and green they ***** Among the honey meal: and last, Everywhere on the grassy slope O traced it. Hold it fast! The champaign with its endless fleece Of feathery grasses everywhere! Silence and passion, joy and peace, An everlasting wash of air— Rome’s ghost since her decease. Such life here, through such lengths of hours, Such miracles performed in play, Such primal naked forms of flowers, Such letting nature have her way While heaven looks from its towers! How say you? Let us, O my dove, Let us be unashamed of soul, As earth lies bare to heaven above! How is it under our control To love or not to love? I would that you were all to me, You that are just so much, no more. Nor yours nor mine, nor slave nor free! Where does the fault lie? What the core O’ the wound, since wound must be? I would I could adopt your will, See with your eyes, and set my heart Beating by yours, and drink my fill At your soul’s springs,— your part my part In life, for good and ill. No. I yearn upward, touch you close, Then stand away. I kiss your cheek, Catch your soul’s warmth,— I pluck the rose And love it more than tongue can speak— Then the good minute goes. Already how am I so far Our of that minute? Must I go Still like the thistle-ball, no bar, Onward, whenever light winds blow, Fixed by no friendly star? Just when I seemed about to learn! Where is the thread now? Off again! The Old trick! Only I discern— Infinite passion, and the pain Of finite hearts that yearn.
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1.9k
Two In The Campagna
I wonder how you feel to-day As I have felt since, hand in hand, We sat down on the grass, to stray In spirit better through the land, This morn of Rome and May? For me, I touched a thought, I know, Has tantalized me many times, (Like turns of thread the spiders throw Mocking across our path) for rhymes To catch at and let go. Help me to hold it! First it left The yellow fennel, run to seed There, branching from the brickwork’s cleft, Some old tomb’s ruin: yonder **** Took up the floating weft, Where one small orange cup amassed Five beetles,—blind and green they ***** Among the honey meal: and last, Everywhere on the grassy slope O traced it. Hold it fast! The champaign with its endless fleece Of feathery grasses everywhere! Silence and passion, joy and peace, An everlasting wash of air— Rome’s ghost since her decease. Such life here, through such lengths of hours, Such miracles performed in play, Such primal naked forms of flowers, Such letting nature have her way While heaven looks from its towers! How say you? Let us, O my dove, Let us be unashamed of soul, As earth lies bare to heaven above! How is it under our control To love or not to love? I would that you were all to me, You that are just so much, no more. Nor yours nor mine, nor slave nor free! Where does the fault lie? What the core O’ the wound, since wound must be? I would I could adopt your will, See with your eyes, and set my heart Beating by yours, and drink my fill At your soul’s springs,— your part my part In life, for good and ill. No. I yearn upward, touch you close, Then stand away. I kiss your cheek, Catch your soul’s warmth,— I pluck the rose And love it more than tongue can speak— Then the good minute goes. Already how am I so far Our of that minute? Must I go Still like the thistle-ball, no bar, Onward, whenever light winds blow, Fixed by no friendly star? Just when I seemed about to learn! Where is the thread now? Off again! The Old trick! Only I discern— Infinite passion, and the pain Of finite hearts that yearn.
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60
Oh you, for whom I have settled for. How I long to eat alone no more! My thought may wander, but you do sometimes cross my mind. Like when I am tantalized by images, your buggy eyes and large right breast. They cause my heart to swell with excitement! Waiting, for my return at long last to the apartment. My soul yearns for your companionship. I shall fill you with love! When only I return, I will release the flood gates of emotion. I shall smother you in affection. so be warned, my return is neigh!
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Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 6:05 PM UTC
(Less Than) Average Love Poem
A silhouette leaned back Grey smoke distorted features demure; Swirls riddled—smooth jazz syncopation Her rouge lips cut through The darkness. She took a long drag on her Cigarette, smoke rings evaporated A halo around her. Midnight blue eyes surveyed The Bijou Café Carpet pooled on the floor, Blood soaked with wine, Enclosed by onyx sheets, The far wall a mirror. A reflection of the souled and soulless. Bar welcome strangers, friends, The lonely. Sharing drinks and memories Vines intertwined customers A perchance meeting; Rendezvous of sorts. Nameless faces and acquaintances Dotted the room, a familiar skyline. Lonely tower missing. Smooth black fedora Hearts sank ships as Waves of embarrassment Enveloped her; disappointment. Crestfallen her eyes downtrodden Soared with a door creak. Black fedora entered, Smooth—slick as oil Eyes were hidden beneath A veil of night; Silence became him. Hush fell on the crowd As the shadow took the stage Light pierced through, Illuminating him. Orbs locked Reservation started to pass, Voice velvet smooth Played every heartstring Notes of excitement Tantalized her veins, Pulse quickened; Echoing every tempo change. Music coursed through her being Sensual; seductive Notes caressed curves, valleys Spaces in between. Emotion—chord dependent Voice penetrated skin Music flowed through her. A mountain peek high Mind clouded— Breath escaped her lungs. Quiet murmur answered her comedown An empty stage; stalwart eyes Fingers replaced music Lips brushed hers; taste—electric Smile turned smirk; hollow presence Musky cologne in wake. Magnetic pull forward Fedora exited Midnight eyes transformed to dawn; Abandoned beneath the awning Familiar skyline flowed liquid. Bijou Café Neon sign loomed dark Save for a letter I illuminated. Heart tendrils retreated, Back to roots; betrayed Tears turned to water Liquid guilt—love died. Fingers loosed Memory; Small matchbook of shame Lingering of once upon a time In the gutter; pouring rain.
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Feb 19, 2010
Feb 19, 2010 at 7:56 PM UTC
They all go to the Bijou Cafe
A silhouette leaned back Grey smoke distorted features demure; Swirls riddled—smooth jazz syncopation Her rouge lips cut through The darkness. She took a long drag on her Cigarette, smoke rings evaporated A halo around her. Midnight blue eyes surveyed The Bijou Café Carpet pooled on the floor, Blood soaked with wine, Enclosed by onyx sheets, The far wall a mirror. A reflection of the souled and soulless. Bar welcome strangers, friends, The lonely. Sharing drinks and memories Vines intertwined customers A perchance meeting; Rendezvous of sorts. Nameless faces and acquaintances Dotted the room, a familiar skyline. Lonely tower missing. Smooth black fedora Hearts sank ships as Waves of embarrassment Enveloped her; disappointment. Crestfallen her eyes downtrodden Soared with a door creak. Black fedora entered, Smooth—slick as oil Eyes were hidden beneath A veil of night; Silence became him. Hush fell on the crowd As the shadow took the stage Light pierced through, Illuminating him. Orbs locked Reservation started to pass, Voice velvet smooth Played every heartstring Notes of excitement Tantalized her veins, Pulse quickened; Echoing every tempo change. Music coursed through her being Sensual; seductive Notes caressed curves, valleys Spaces in between. Emotion—chord dependent Voice penetrated skin Music flowed through her. A mountain peek high Mind clouded— Breath escaped her lungs. Quiet murmur answered her comedown An empty stage; stalwart eyes Fingers replaced music Lips brushed hers; taste—electric Smile turned smirk; hollow presence Musky cologne in wake. Magnetic pull forward Fedora exited Midnight eyes transformed to dawn; Abandoned beneath the awning Familiar skyline flowed liquid. Bijou Café Neon sign loomed dark Save for a letter I illuminated. Heart tendrils retreated, Back to roots; betrayed Tears turned to water Liquid guilt—love died. Fingers loosed Memory; Small matchbook of shame Lingering of once upon a time In the gutter; pouring rain.
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81
eventually, i will eagerly experience all your fifty-four flavours but in this moment i'm only in the mood for neapolitan every inch of surface melting with the graze of my tantalized tongue guided by the tempting taste of your vanilla-scented skin i candidly drizzle chocolaty syrup onto your milky mounds before i suckle the center and tease the cherry **** tenderly between my teeth but i'm in the highest hopes for the strawberry flavors especially after the fruit has been sufficiently savored by your luscious lips (both pairs of them) and covered copiously in carnally-compelled cream finger-whipped by a duo of digits or maybe three until you sensually scream
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Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 6:03 AM UTC
sugary tears //
There's a blank sheet of paper I hung on the wall My mother suggested to after a fall A fall of inspiration, Dead of true life, Hope prancing, leaping, dashing, In the light of unconventional thought beyond all comprehension, Of dancing on cloud floors, declining haze of the forests, While insouciant specks of light, similar to glowing pointillism Can sharply puncture one's un-anticipating boredom And infect with a communicable virus of Celestial inspiration. I always look back on that paper and perceive, Beyond my tantalized body and anguishing mind Through it's blankness, it's empty slate, It's disgusting plainness, piercing my hope, It's beauty in its... Lack of anything, null, nought, nothingness-- An array, plethora, profusion, superfluity Of inconceivable courses of actions Breathtaking inspiration.
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Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 1:38 PM UTC
That Blank Sheet of Paper Hung
never felt a body so hard, muscles rippled every inch of you, your hands so strong, molding me to you, caress deeply massaging my body. i feel you on top of me- solid hard pressing down, touching me here mmm and here. playing with my pressure points, dancing over my egregiousness zone. you've seductively molested my mind while secretly tantalized my pleasure zones, your a walking talking aphrodisiac. sleek like a dark panther, flexing your biceps as you work my body, teasing me as your pelvis and manhood softly grinds up on my buttocks, where your half sitting. i feel you rise swelling and all i can do is lay here guessing, thinking impure thoughts of what we could be doing, your half siting on me, knees bent close to my waists, my arms at my sides Sorry baby i had to touch you, feel your power as you stroke me seductive. Sweet gentle sexy masseur your technique has me craving your hands on my umm hmm, I want to now feel you between me flexing as you probe in me deeply with your "Afro"disiacs flex with in me as you move in sync with me, harder oh please YES! caress my velvety walls as my own muscles constrict & contracts pulsating from your cunnilingus'tics touch and tense up. Sir please, Sir move deeper while i move with you. that's what I want toy say & beg of you to do, thats what I'm thinking but I wont say a thing. I'm going to lay here on my stomach- enjoyably mesmerized at the care you take with me & your expertises as you massage peace back into me. relaxing me while i lavishly day dream of us becoming more then just a 1 hour session of You the sensual Masseur & I the lustrous wishful thinking client whose mind has already taken a leave of absence Only when it comes to you. Mmm Day Dreaming....... Always me Ayeshah
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Apr 7, 2010
Apr 7, 2010 at 12:24 PM UTC
Day Dreaming..........
never felt a body so hard, muscles rippled every inch of you, your hands so strong, molding me to you, caress deeply massaging my body. i feel you on top of me- solid hard pressing down, touching me here mmm and here. playing with my pressure points, dancing over my egregiousness zone. you've seductively molested my mind while secretly tantalized my pleasure zones, your a walking talking aphrodisiac. sleek like a dark panther, flexing your biceps as you work my body, teasing me as your pelvis and manhood softly grinds up on my buttocks, where your half sitting. i feel you rise swelling and all i can do is lay here guessing, thinking impure thoughts of what we could be doing, your half siting on me, knees bent close to my waists, my arms at my sides Sorry baby i had to touch you, feel your power as you stroke me seductive. Sweet gentle sexy masseur your technique has me craving your hands on my umm hmm, I want to now feel you between me flexing as you probe in me deeply with your "Afro"disiacs flex with in me as you move in sync with me, harder oh please YES! caress my velvety walls as my own muscles constrict & contracts pulsating from your cunnilingus'tics touch and tense up. Sir please, Sir move deeper while i move with you. that's what I want toy say & beg of you to do, thats what I'm thinking but I wont say a thing. I'm going to lay here on my stomach- enjoyably mesmerized at the care you take with me & your expertises as you massage peace back into me. relaxing me while i lavishly day dream of us becoming more then just a 1 hour session of You the sensual Masseur & I the lustrous wishful thinking client whose mind has already taken a leave of absence Only when it comes to you. Mmm Day Dreaming....... Always me Ayeshah
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69
We began with doubts in the dark night- Everything that came under the sky of night- The noiseless stars -that were just flickers In the crisp air of a deep night and crickets That creaked from dark and thorny bushes. We thought of sultry bears that came down From the hills for ripe sugarcane in fields On windy nights when we were sleeping On the river bank, with a long stick safely Sleeping beside us on a springy string cot. The dogs sculpted their own long protests At the howling wind and bush rat’s scrawl . There in the sketchy bushes of darkness The lizards slept fitfully wary of night snakes. Outside, the fireflies tantalized the country. Our doubts persisted through the night , Going on unabated in sleep and dreams. At the cock's crow they dissolved in sleep.
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Oct 15, 2010
Oct 15, 2010 at 7:21 PM UTC
Doubts
The breath of autumn dawns upon the stagnant, sullen ground. Quaking oh so suddenly, and spreading whispers round. The scent of every color changing tone to tone. and falling, effervescently beneath the moon's stark bones. The silent metamorphosis creeps from grass to tree, not accursed or tantalized, but ever now so free. They're playing tag with color, and shedding summer shade, caressing grass with remnants of winded leaves as graves. Now, as the sun decides to set, and beckon warmth awry. A streak of color lights the earth, and collapses in the sky.
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Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC
Autumn's Breath
Causally awaken. Deceiving perception. Desires clouding. Thoughts amounting. Thirst building. Blind folded. Saliva dripping. Unclothed and, Her body rolling, down my lips, Full lips, her mound I kiss, tricking up and down her neck, Our lipstick, as we kiss. Eyes open wide Body paralyzed Skin tantalized Satisfaction written on her face Our rhythm guides the pace Quivering from the vibes
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Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
Title (Optional)
Alone in the jasmine scented balcony, letting oily darkness rub all over me ( sensual ointment to subdue my ****** unease) my heart was full of echoes of  beloved moon (which one of them would appear soon to wash me in the copious shower of love) In a moment she appears in a resplendent gown making darkness melt and dissolve, clambering up the stairs to get near me, one moment earlier, she can As she, my woman, like a new moon was about to wield  her spell on me, with wonder I see the full moon herself clad in her diaphanous gown of fluffy clouds. She comes up on the stairs of a mountain, one by one, spilling the brilliance of her heady spell, all over my lovelorn tantalized being. Between the spells of two beloved moons tell me , how could I not lose gravity I swim  in the sweet sea of an ecstatic swoon
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May 31, 2017
May 31, 2017 at 11:18 PM UTC
Between two spells, I lose gravity's pull.
This miracle. More than once. Stay up all night. Troubles, worry, my closest friends. More than once. Stay up all night. Reading your poems. Wondering. Why bother. New names, millions. Endless, a beach. Talent that mocks me. Enfeebled, why bother. I am ready to say. Enough. I am tantalized. Where come us all? So much talent to design, Word combinations that Astound. I think. Never write a sentence. Longer than five words. Simplicity. Modesty. Let this be your. Memory. Record. There is no place. In this mirrored world, Where selves so easy slashed. For arrogance. There is no place in poetry. For the arrogant. More on this later. Now, I am knee-floored. Crying. Begging. Turned my eyes To the mountains. From whence will come My help? My miracle? September 7th, 2013 3:56am
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Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 3:57 AM UTC
This miracle.