"tantalizes" poems
Her titillating tattoo
tantalizes me deeply,
to the tenth degree. I see
it as I slip her silk dress
slowly down her left shoulder.
A lizard lying on a
boulder, contrasting with her
silky smooth soft snowy skin.
I kiss her shoulder, and she
shudders and sighs a deep sigh.
Goosebumps rise up her body
as a sturdy gust seizes
the moment. The forest we
make love in quakes and shakes
as she shivers and quivers
under the touch of my hands.
My left hand holds her upper
arm, while my right grips her hips.
She closes her eyes, smiling,
giggling in amusement.
I spin her slowly ‘round, and
look into her hazel eyes,
her soft ******* and thighs against
mine for warmth and gentle touch.
I kiss her lips. Strawberry.
And we slide down to the ground.
The scariness we have found
slips away in our grace. We
sinners share our shame, our lust,
and come to a conclusion,
and bust each others doors down,
sweet ****** on this cold ground.
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 7:47 PM UTC
Missed me, missed me, now you gotta kiss me.
I like to play a game called hard to forget.
Rose petal lips wish for your attention.
Attention: tomorrow you’ll wish we’d never met.
Lean a little closer, and just give in.
Bust through that barrier, blocking your desire.
Feel the radiation as you touch my skin.
Our eyes magnetize, signing a single contract.
Your stone-carved face fills my vision.
Hesitate for a moment, entertaining free will.
That’s silly. Dropping that was a condition.
Your mouth’s warm breeze tantalizes my lips,
but we stay stubborn still.
Always and forever. I wrote in pencil.
Veracity in my eyes; “Baby, I can’t lie.”
Touch. Spark. Ignition. This fire you can handle,
You think. I inhale, to let out a siren’s sigh.
It’s too late now.
The spell has been cast.
I’ve infected your present.
You won’t be the last.
You’ll never forget.
Kissed me kissed me.
Now you’re gonna miss me.
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 3:42 AM UTC
*The sky is falling
with the New Moon’s rising tide
Amorous emotions are flailing
with rhapsody’s flooding desires
A fleshy sigh exhaled
the hot breath of carnal tensions;
the heat of a lightheaded fever,
arouses flushing skin,
igniting a yearning to savor
the bouquet of love’s
sensual coquettish dreams
Inraptured teases and tantalizes
anticipation’s lucid sensations
So close and yet so far away ,
as if a moonstruck hypnotic delight
were at the tip of fingers touch ,
from arm’s length away
Savoring the input
from all the heightened senses
Overwhelmed by a feeling
like being wrapped in a dream ,
choosing not to listen
to sanities' useless reality
Willingly surrendering to the dream - - -
to the verve of blissful mercy
Only while waking up,
embracing the thoughts
of passionate release,
do I feel the poignant pang
of my heart's song
longing to fade into you …
"dance me to the end of love"*
wilder
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 9:21 PM UTC
I cry your mercy—pity—love!—aye, love!
Merciful love that tantalizes not,
One-thoughted, never-wandering, guileless love,
Unmasked, and being seen—without a blot!
O! let me have thee whole,—all—all—be mine!
That shape, that fairness, that sweet minor zest
Of love, your kiss,—those hands, those eyes divine,
That warm, white, lucent, million-pleasured breast,—
Yourself—your soul—in pity give me all,
Withhold no atom's atom or I die,
Or living on, perhaps, your wretched thrall,
Forget, in the mist of idle misery,
Life's purposes,—the palate of my mind
Losing its gust, and my ambition blind!
2k
Like snow,
a blank page tantalizes me
fantasizes me
luring me into the vastness of its grip
and asking
What will you do with this space?
But unlike Creators,
my art provides no function,
serves no definitive purpose
other than to sit in awe
and appreciate
the Art of Others.
It's hard -
I'm overwhelmed by the potential of
the unexisted,
by the grandeur of what could be
that I sometimes slip
forget
that I don't have to do anything with it;
I just have to witness.
That,
that space between
Standing
and
Wondering if peeing my pants is a work of art
is slick.
But as the place between
Stagnation
and Movement,
Sanity
and
Peeing your pants,
Grave is only achieved by Balance.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 7:19 PM UTC
Sitting there observing me
A shadow among the flock
Breathing in the magic scene
With a vision to unlock
I waited for a dream to be
Unforgotten and serene
But the love and lust
For what I must
Tantalizes me
A rush of insanity
Forgetting how to live
A feeling of divinity
As chilling as the wind
Touching
And moaning
To a love song half way sung
Kissing
And killing
An emotion that has begun
Gazing at me with eyes so pure
A mannequin among the dead
Living a life so unsure
Of what evil is unsaid
You touched my lips again for more
delving pleasure to leave me sore
The forbidden love
From a ****** dove
Fuels my vicious roar
A rush of insanity
Forgetting how to live
A feeling of divinity
As cold as the wind
Touching
And moaning
To a love song half way sung
Kissing
And killing
An emotion that has begun
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 9:36 AM UTC
The power went out in my house for the first time tonight.
It took only but a moment for everything to run loose from my hold and to leave me empty handed and
sightless.
It was as sudden and unpleasantly startling as the moment I realized I’d
fallen in love with you
and now these vaulted ceilings and smart, leather couches have fallen
victim
to the same darkness that shrouds my breaking heart.
I think you’re really selfish.
But so am I,
and as I hide in the blackness with the amber haze of
candlelight
casting those flickering shadows of
twisted, dancing demons on the walls I am hearing their exaggerated whispers hastening me to resent you for it.
They intoxicate my head about how you’re probably being
more selfish than me.
For god sakes you sent me a short story
laden and sodden and dripping
with all of these beautiful similes and thoughts and they were
horrible.
Not only were they not written for me, but for some
replacement muse
who has beautiful green eyes (are not mine, any longer?) and a beautiful smile (have I stopped grinning at you? I wonder now how it is I lost your love.)
that conquered your heart and blasted past my deafening, mundane
inadequacy.
You say you love me
You say you wish you’d say it more
You say you love me so much.
But the demons scoff at you—they’re telling me you’re lying.
O the lies! Liar! Clever devil, that one! Don’t believe those sweet things! they admonish with a brutality that entices me to scream out loud at you,
to shout and yell and kick and scream out loud because
how dare you do this to me?
Why love me at all
When your muse beckons with her beautiful, superior, faultlessness and tempts and tantalizes and
replaces me?
You say you love me so much.
And I, you, Darling.
But it’s too dark in my house and it’s too dark in my head and it’s too dark in my heart
And you have a new muse.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 12:20 AM UTC
I am the sticky *** of bubble gum
clinging to the soles of your new sneakers.
I am the early morning hangover
from a night of ***** 12packs, and too many liquors.
I am the static of a dead line
during a phone call ended too soon.
I am the prickly sliver of grass
that popped your kid's balloon.
I am the creaky staircase
in your hundred year old house.
I am the shattered windows
and even the annoying mouse.
I am the chocolate ice cream cone
that you dropped on the ground.
I am the lump in your throat
when you try to talk but can't make a sound.
I am the demons
that live inside your head.
I am the hunger that's never satisfied
no matter how much you've been fed.
I am the scary thoughts
that keep you awake.
I am the long black hair
that you found in your cake.
I am the blemishes
that cover your face.
I am the sore ankle
that kept you from winning the race.
I am the tear drops
from breakups and heartache.
I am the one who tantalizes
when you make a stupid mistake.
I am the war going on in your mind
and the deadly games you play, too.
But now it's time for check mate:
will I die? Or will you?
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 3:05 PM UTC
I, stand before him
poised in bareness;
his bristles, he dips
upon his palette to
color me, in passion
upon canvas
in artistic eyes;
his smile beckons
and unravels my
composure, eliciting
his brush to paint
hidden sensuality
in demureness
his brush tantalizes;
a flick of his wrist
dabs upon canvas
stroking curve after
curve, as if, caressing
my frame, the look in
his eyes reveals;
charcoal etchings
of his cupidity,
coveting lust
pantomiming
intentions upon his
canvas; his thoughts
flow from fingers to
brush, brush to palette,
palette to canvas; in
his mind's eye hunger
unfolds, as I, in turn
invite him to partake
of his artistic craving
to taste his own art
with each brush stroke
savoring my essence
Jun 13, 2012
Jun 13, 2012 at 4:36 AM UTC
Isolated in fear,
Horrendously alone,
Always thinking of her.
I was in love.
She tantalizes my dreams,
She haunts my days,
Always missing her.
I'm still in love.
Magnificent in every way,
Ordinary guy,
Extraordinary girl,
Always loving her.
I love her!
Unobtainable in person,
Connected in spirit,
Always remember her.
She is love... My love...My one...
And only love.
[K.D.P.]
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 3:55 PM UTC
the ultimate.
all and nothing simultaneously.
your pupils dilate when you see
her lovely figure on the inside of your skull.
she tantalizes your mind in the night.
with the little nibbles of her peace,
that serenade your transcendent taste buds.
those insomniacs who died a little within
wear it upon their skin as an
upside down flag and wait for her
calming breath on the back
of their goose pimpled necks.
when you breathe your final plea for her,
she comes to collect
that which she owns.
that's why we wear her
at funerals as a reminder
of the soul magpie
and the warbler who sings us
melodious songs of infinite tranquility.
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 2:19 AM UTC
i stand trembling,
as i hold a gun
to the forehead
of my fears
grasp unsteady-
breathing calm
waiting and waiting
each precious second
as it slips away
a mirror
appears
a cloak of safety, so clear
i am not human
my reflection
dares me to shoot
teases me with
its echoing laughter
its voice tantalizes
me
it knows i am weak
it chuckles because
it knows my
every move
forever
its servant of image
reputation and impurity
meek and humble
like a mouse
i cant do it
i let the gun slip
from my hands
my clumsy doing
i am the girl
who cried wolf
into the darkness
i was only screaming
about the wolf of my own thoughts.
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 11:21 AM UTC
I could run away with fear
but you, oh you, I hold so dear
so call me stupid one more time
and I'll act as if everything is fine.
I should have given up by now
but I won't let it go, no how
now, knock on my heart once again
and I'll be sure, so sure, to let you in!
I hate you.
I love you.
I hate you.
I hate you.
I love you.
You hate me.
You love me.
You hate me.
You hate me.
You love me.
You hate me, babe.
I could walk away from you
and be okay, I won't be blue
because you put me through such ****
& you'll be lucky if you don't get hit
time goes by, but time won't fly
the spark that set the flame won't die
The fire tantalizes me
& then I get hit with the third degree
I hate you.
I love you.
I hate you.
I hate you.
I love you.
You hate me.
You love me.
You hate me.
You hate me.
You love me.
I love you, babe.
Oct 25, 2010
Oct 25, 2010 at 4:50 PM UTC
We are suffering today
From a disease called hypocrisy.
And it is the basest enemy
Of freedom in democracy.
It substitutes a dollar amount
For lives and souls and hope
And tantalizes the population
With TV, ***** and dope.
By the time the population
Wakes up and catches on
A new batch of crooks exist
The old got rich, moved on.
Every campaign promise
They will fail to deliver.
They will lie to your face
And sell you down the river.
Our women are widows
Our children are orphans
The churches want money
For larger pipe organs.
They wring their hands
Subject abortion to scorn
But, abandon them to penury
As soon as they are born.
They say they want nobody
To receive free ride Medicare
Then freely give corporations
Un-needed trillions in welfare.
The chant against big government
Is a perennial marching tune.
They’ll decide the kind of ***
And have control over wombs,
The world is a place today
Where the dollar comes first
And the children of the poor
Are usually treated the worst.
We are suffering today
From a disease called hypocrisy.
And it is the basest enemy
Of freedom in democracy.
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 6:41 PM UTC
I’m tired of watching.
Gaping at this cinematic reality as it slowly sinks into my sensitive skin like hot rocks on a not-so-relaxing Sunday morning.
Disappointment after disappointment, I tap my foot with impatience, awaiting a ship that never docks, yet instead, tantalizes me as it nears the harbor but changes its course midway.
I’m limp, dangling over the wishing well in my bathroom that swallows as I heave; attempting to rid my body of all my pathetic hopes and expectations and watch as they are flushed down the toilet.
You are a dagger and I have closed my eyes, preparing myself to die; allowing my flesh to surround your malicious blade as you pierce agonizingly through my shattering heart.
I am (or was) a majestic sailboat and you are a bulwark placed dangerously in my path, resulting in a complete wreckage causing my sail to sink miserably to the bottom of the ocean.
Tired of seeing.
Watching each face blossom with happiness as my stems overflow with jealousy; I stare at the reflection of my forlorn face, painfully plucking each of my withering petals and allowing them to fall to the ground in defeat.
Feeling my chakras disintegrate as my large intestine absorbs my heart that melted at the sight of your hands entwined with ones that aren’t mine.
I’m suffocating, gasping for air as I hug myself until I am strangling my waist, searching for that comforting lungful of compassion.
Tired of noticing.
Releasing my last breath, I let go. Allowing my body to be consumed by the numbness that started at my heart as it froze.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 7:10 AM UTC
Mighty the muscle of unmerciful momentum
Taking names, keeping pace, rhythmic with the arms of father time
Back to rehash an ancient scribe just moments away
You can taste it
The blood of the forsaken
Dying a thousands deaths
Ravished by the beast
Whilst storms blow in from the east
With messages of pale horses and unrelenting fate
Demanding blood to cleanse the land and to burn the stakes
Fear tantalizes
Exhilarates
All the kings men take their place
and prepare to battle the cycles history incessantly recreates
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 12:27 PM UTC
We sit and we wait
For what we know not
It has no name or form
But each of us waits
We're sure it's what we want
But is it really?
It comes for a few
And they are overjoyed
We watch them leave, and we wonder
Have they found happiness?
Was it worth the wait?
Will it come for us?
And still we wait
Believing it will come for us
And we will dance with it always
Love
Is what we wait for
And it tantalizes us with its nearness
Laughing and dancing just out of reach
Our fingers slip and our grasp is not firm
And it scampers away again
Only to tiptoe near as we're about to give up
Leaning down to whisper in our ear
"Don't give up.
I'll come for you.
You just have to wait."
But love is a tricky being
It conceals and decieves
And waits for us to believe
Waits for us to fall head over heels
For us to smile and laugh
And for us to give our hearts
And when we do
Love steals our hearts and keeps them for its own
And so we sit and we wait
For what we now know
Its name is Love and its form is stolen hearts
Jan 13, 2010
Jan 13, 2010 at 12:20 PM UTC
White chocolate suicide
This drizzle’s ****** ***
Hard whipped, it tantalizes
Steals air from her lungs
Five scoops of velvet flesh
Slight hint of cherries, bruised
This pleasure grows amidst
Flushed cheeks so rosy hued
Toss in a little cyan-dye
Sweet taste of passion blue
If dessert could **** she’d die
To savor something new
It’s time to take a bite
Before it melts away
Might just take all night
It’s kidnapped her days
Searing as it warms her thighs
Wintry as it chills her bones
Soft-shell too hard to hide
Each taste’s a lustful moan
What’s better than her sweets
Covered in delightful gems?
Unparalleled this frozen treat
Even to her thoughts of him
© 2014
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 4:55 AM UTC
Sexuality is not a ***** word.
It is the essence of our being
It tantalizes our skin
Seeps out of our pores
And sets a flame to our existence.
The way we express it
(Or the way some of us do)
Is what separates us from the rest of the animal kingdom.
Majority of people are able to display it
In a vivid and imaginative way
So that they can connect with another person.
And I am not simply talking about ***
Although that plays an integral role
But romanticism as well.
Love is a human experience
It spreads from person to person
Radiating from each like their own individualized ball of light
It is theirs, and only theirs
Until they decide to share it with another
So they can spread this tiny orb of sunshine
And illuminate someone else's world with it
As it has brightened the beholder's.
So why do so many people
Think it is fit to rob the ones
Who, in terms of romantic preferences,
Are in the minority
Of this beautiful luminosity
That blots out all of the hate, violence and anger in this world
Even if for only a split second?
Yes, I'm talking to you, Conservatives and bigots alike.
Who are we to tell other human beings
That they do not have the right to love
The way we do?
Dear So-Called Religious Christians
Who believe that gays, lesbians, bisexuals, pansexuals
You name it
Are abominations:
Stop playing the very God
That you claim to be following.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 8:41 PM UTC
My stomach grumbles, as do I
saying "I'm done, throw this away."
Shoveling a picked apart parcel of pulp,
placed pleasantly in front of me paces previously,
back into the bakers basket
All I could do was try to taste this treat,
as it constantly tantalizes my taste buds
I reach a treaty with Me each day
again I say
"I'm done, throw this away"
Then again, it will probably always whisper
from the waste basket
so maybe
it's okay for me to love just the voice?
So
Maybe
it's okay for me to love
just the crumbs?
Maybe
it's okay.
No, no no
It's okay
"I'm done
Throw this away"
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 11:20 PM UTC
I can't look at you
'Cause your beautiful beauty
Tantalizes me.
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 11:06 AM UTC
Creating a new poem is like creating a new story
a new paradigm from the depths of history's bowls
from a nightmare, we are to create a dreamscape
something that tantalizes the soul, and draws us near
to the greater perfection within ourselves... who knew?
Creating a new poem, much like a new society
has to start from within, and be drawn out somehow,
and some will be more inspired than others to invent
their own approach, to instill their own values,
to be critical enough to recognize what is most sacred
Creating a new poem demands the ability of the artist
to take hold of his or her feelings, thoughts, and intuit
the flow of consciousness in just the right cadence
remembering the song of ages that goes and flows
Being the poet that you are, your heart is stretched and open
yet you are afraid to be as the caged bird: freedom frightens you!
And in creating your new, new poem, you would be as angels
singing from the achrimony of the ages, singing light and dark
good and evil: but remember god and devil are just a letter off both ways.
Creating a new world is like creating a new poem: if you let go
and just do it, the miracle will wash away the banality of a bygone age
and the new **** will be born as a rose red flower in flames
before the technocratic temple of bright lights and ********
Create a new art, artists, poets, and those average ager's
be a revolution in the heart, an evolution in the swing,
bring first the arrogance, then the confidence of knowing:
you are the master who makes the grass green: the universe in your eyes
the solar flare in your step, and change this world from a prison
to a paradise!
Create your new poem, and singe it like a caged bird!
Give your language the power of princes, without the pomp
believe in yourself and let go of the awkward moment you had
with the love of your dreams last night; create your new life
and transform this new poem into a rally cry for the poet class!
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 11:36 AM UTC
your two eyes worship some evening farther sky
than the four winds around us, breathing with our sighs
perfumed taste tantalizes, in metered measure
as waves of warm skin rise, toward strong pleasure
only where the sacred kiss touches desire;
hunger where your quickened heart ascend even higher
as my lingering love gives voice to your song,
waves lapping restless shores, all night long:
then a still, white dove lies, with entrancing smile
underneath the sly moon's beaming magic wiles.
Mar 11, 2010
Mar 11, 2010 at 8:09 PM UTC
When the darkness comes, I am the light,
As uncertainty enters, I fill you with fright,
I am all you fear, as it boils inside, I am the painful trip you long to ride,
The pain and pleasure you only felt in c=dreams,
I am everything, or so it would seem,
Whenever you cry out in your sleep,
I ****** up your soul, for me to keep,
And just when you feel you cannot go n,
I will laugh, because you will know I have won,
When you are with me, time stands still,
I **** your blood, your life, your will,
I will anoint my body with your coppery heat,
I am one mistake you’ll not soon repeat,
Drawing out every precious drop in a ravenous frenzy,
Knowing your last ounce will bring me pure ecstasy,
Watching as all signs of life leave your eyes,
At this moment, you encompass ALL that I despise,
I laugh to myself as I savor your tangy salt,
As you wither and wilt, you know it is only your fault,
To watch your blood slowly drain and spill,
Each drop tantalizes my every thrill,
One last little drop and you will obey me,
You, no longer, are your own entity,
I will take everything you have to give,
If you are lucky, I may let you live,
Now you can finally begin to conceive,
My hunger only live to deceive,
You are a mere pawn in my ruthless game,
I alone hold the power to make you insane,
I am the one and only true master,
My name spells imminent disaster.
Jan 23, 2010
Jan 23, 2010 at 11:12 AM UTC