"tounges" poems
I listen to them as they mouth your name;
and I see
how deluded,
how hypnotic,
how enchanted and consumed
they talk of your ways and,
how the stars in their pupils beam with a radiance of such pure awe.
Your words hang loose off the tops of their tounges and their lips drool in your glaze.
Your lazy features, your so electric but so infuriating charm -
sends them mindless, locks them in your illusion.
So it’s then
I try to burn every
sheet of paper which ink prints your presence,
inside these desperate shelves which fold upon each heartstring.
My ears attempt to block it out.
Instead they replay every song
that has ever left your lips.
And my eyes deceive me as they scatter
a particle of you on every surface of life I encounter.
My mind echoes every laugh you created in my streams.
Then I paint every colour you ever erupted within me,
in thick black.
As they mouth your name,
every trace of you with anyone but me,
causes my hands to pull through my gut,
and hammer down any of these ******* deceptive daydreams
that you have me trapped me in.
And then so easily, one by one,
debris of my heart crumble like rain
down your window,
down each vein.
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 6:45 PM UTC
On This Christmas Day With Trump
There's an odd Santa Claus
In the air
Riding and laughing
Atop Trump's hair
Even through the fluff
Blinded by the glare
Reindeer pulling gifts of prayer
Through the roots they go
Low lights here and there
Laughing in despair
** what sadness it is to stare
On a one,
****
White Horse open
Night mare
** ** **
Ploop
Open open mouths a sneer
Tounges at war appear
Whispers everywhere
Laughing in despair
Hats off
We spare
To the red suited fare
Abound
And confound
To Trump's
Wishy washy care
Waiting in repair
** ** **
Santa,
My good man,
We have clause
To tear
You're in a mess
To bare
For humbug in Trump
So held in arrear
We're crying in despair
Logan Robertson
12/06/2018
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 5:09 PM UTC
Two Hearts But A Single Beat.
I lied there waiting and excited.
One hand softly griping your left thigh.
Faster. Harder. Pacing.
I ponder for a moment while I let your warm breath exhale against my earlobe.
“I live for this“.
I love to hear you moan against my head. Tounges’ wrapped within a mess of lips, breaths, and saliva.
I know this feeling all too well. This addiction that I can’t abstain from. You don’t understand me. It’s hard. When I’m close to you my head becomes a jungle. Your presence is enough to drive me wild. I’m ****** You’ve driven me mad with lust and love combined in one. I’m throbbing. I want you so bad and you have yet to know my true nature towards you...
You’re already mine, but I’ve been dying to make you mine in a different way. I’m going to ruin you ... make crawl back tongue drooling for more.
My lust cannot contain itself.
I want to bend you over a whisper taunting things into your ear while I slide two fingers in the back and grip my hand around your shaft.... slowly making you ooze *** from the tip... I want you to ******* beg. Tell me how bad you want it, want this, want me... pant in my ear until there’s nothing but broken cries left. Push me away even though you know it’s what you ******* crave the most .. let me explore your darkest parts and lick every crevice. I want you to the point where it’s only our sweaty bodies against each other yearning for another lick, taste, spread, touch.... **** your addicting. This may very well be my downfall.
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 10:47 AM UTC
"SPOON FED"
BY Arcassin B
i use to dream of being famous,
i use to dream of having a car,
i use to dream of having,
anything,
that would build a better me,
people workin 9 to 5,
searching to be free,
but all you fear is yourself,
not me,
you thought you could put me down,
but i got right back up,
and said im stronger than your demons,
speaking in tounges , feeling stuck up,
preferably speaking,
but you know you cant ignore it,
all the people on the planet.
"Im On To You"
By Arcassin Burnham
blood drippin from your mouth,
i can smell ,
dangerous without a doubt,
hot as the fire , in hell,
im on to you,
if people say im foolish , idc,
im on to you,
its not just me its you and me,
im on to you
can i be the bee,
getting the nector out,
or can i be the misery,
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 5:46 PM UTC
Lament our random tuesday
– I can't see today the sunny day
of our last spring leaves again
in a treeless pathless meadow
that spring day of silver tounges tarnished.
Dessicated earth is seeping in the blue glass,
the dry cracked plain rising above the sun,
the suns clarity as it is in reality,
and where we have been – I will always remember.
There are no oasis' on my equator.
The Wendigo subdued with pale skill.....
Whose corpse can fail to compare with my soul,
if despair and courage aren't in my heart! -
And if your scent, a mundane beast,
tears at my knees everyday,
and the suns dull golden light,
chilled by a slow approaching wave
for all of our words?
Jul 3, 2012
Jul 3, 2012 at 4:45 PM UTC
Drops of diamond dust upon our tounges.
Down a pinwheel of colors and images we travel,
changing our very being the further we delve.
Clenching our hands together through the intensity,
feeling safe within our shared love.
Forgetting everything so as to become omnipotent,
our eyes embrace as the peak looms ahead.
Only to feel drops of diamond dust,
upon our tongues and our limbs.
Life and love go on for eternity,
sprinkled in diamond dust.
Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 10:30 PM UTC
Let the rain dance,
as leaves fall like scattered emotion,
and send out cries,
cries for someone to create a potion,
to stop this bitter notion from carrying on unnoticed,
Let the rain dance,
across the tounges of the artistic hippies,
looking for a new gentle high,
or so called "stress relief",
to stop the pain from becoming more than a mental bother,
Let the rain dance,
as a form of tranquility,
for those who may need it,
let it dance,
in a pitter patter of self confidence,
laced with hope,
Let it dance,
for who ever may need the happiness they just can't
seem to find in themselves
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 5:43 PM UTC
Snake tounges rattled and hissed words of poison mechanically,
With green-eyed monsters lurking beneath their skin,
Circling the rumours of suspicion onto those of white blood,
Like a frightened rabbit in deaths doorway to car headlights fell.
The slithering tale encapsulating innocent yet friendly ears,
Smearing their venom amongst those of lowered fighters hands,
Trickling down the innocent white hart's hands,
As though regarding herself as this murderess.
Flight of fear, fighting the dark, losing, chocking, drowning,
Yet tales of talk were not in vain, but yet they failed once again,
Smearing that of lies over white walls, black onto red,
Trapping the rabbit in the snare, as though to **** it in the shell.
My friend, would you tell the old lie? To children so high,
To fall so low, by that of snakes and their hungry green-eyes.
Mar 20, 2010
Mar 20, 2010 at 7:33 AM UTC
We welcome the girl,
alone it would seem,
like a seed in the updraught,
whole worlds lie beneath.
Here is the girl,
A mind pregnant with dreams,
as she crosses the bridges,
connecting the streams.
There lands a girl,
ghouls taunt, ghouls tease,
"let go of this love, girl,
be rid of these dreams."
Come see the girl,
speaking tounges through machines,
white draped over candy,
embracing the terminal dream.
Heres lies the girl,
most wouldn't believe,
the ghouls taunts a mere whisper now,
dream easy, love freely... my sweet.
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 6:11 AM UTC
My head spins, twirling in colors of essential essanance
the barrries fall onto
floors non existant ground
and simple pleasures
of conversational munch
are triply seductive
the nature that has been robbed will be returned
the love that has been lost will be found
the trees that are cut will grow
and the souls that are condemened will be freed
but it must freeze
what lies at the core of fools
tell me ,
if you could be so kind?
kindred spirits of the philosophical type
who have seen the darkness and fight the flowers fall ,
the tree of universes shakes
and breathes a sigh
all the wind orginated from this spot
eminating out of the simple
simple stop ,
cat calls - forest walls
honest bums
sit
no place like home they say
i say no place called home
no place other than home
as it walks with me
side by side
unto the power places
chakras glow and merger
connotations
******
but the defenition is flexiable
determine the point ,
touch the joints
heat the fall
and ***** it all
you only have this time around its all we've ever had.
who is it
that defines the love in our lives
but parent hood figures made out of wood frozn in time and we watch at the spirals unwind
and the lemons
are zingy and the mint is fresh
and i sleep on a bears bed
baby bear , mother too - wolves out alone standiing o howl at the mooon
and awoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
we've come so far
on the riptide of loves handslide
handshake
discovering for oursleves what we deem humanities race
and what we deem fools and tounges
and what we deem to be the runner out run
who comes first in a race
who comes fist before the fired gun
who sits and the hollow has come.
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 6:26 PM UTC
Across from me is you. My eye's could never be so lucky. We sit here, with small talk on our tounges.
Jun 9, 2011
Jun 9, 2011 at 7:20 AM UTC
All my friends are fictional. Anyone who can come close to understanding me is black ink on paper...or, I suppose, a screen. The words seem to be extracted from my own mind, and in some sense, they are, or at least the meaning I've given to them. I think the author and I would get along, but of course, I'll never know. Provoke the melancholy, poke the sleeping bear. Look up into the air and wonder "Why?". "Why everything? Why anything? Why do I keep asking why? Why do I waste my time with empty questions?". Some of my friends are sound waves. I think I would get along with the vocalist, or even, the guitarist. Not the drummer though. Never got along with drummers too well. I listen, as they speak to me in a foreign, yet, familiar language. A sort of tounges, a melodic pig-latin. A nearly dying, or, freshly dead language. A corpse comprised of chords. I think, "They must be just like me. They understand how asinine of an existence us humans have". But, I'll never really know. A painting or a picture that I often let my eyes visit is my longest, dearest, friend. With strokes and lines in colors that surround me and embrace me with their vivid visual prowess as a sort of pet. A silent friend. A friend whose company alone is enough to warm me. And I think, "Wow, I wish I could make things like that. I wish I could speak without words and without fear". And then I meet the artist, or at least, read his or her statement, and realize that the speech intended to be delivered was something else entirely, and usually not achieved without enduring his or her own self-projected labrynth filled with pits of fear and dead-ends. And I realize that I can make things like that, that ultimately. I just did. By creating the meaning that I thought was their intention, I drew my own maze, all that's missing, is the courage to endure it. And I think, "Wow, what a lonely sad soul that artist must be. No one will understand what they are trying to say the first time around. They will constantly be frustrated with the mundane experience of incessantly repeating themselves. They will make enemies out of the very things they once loved. They will isolate themselves from those who may have given them everything they wanted."
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 8:55 PM UTC
When we make out
Our tounges dancing in eachothers mouths
I wonder what it’s like to
Be your wife
Not just your
Playful pet.
Feb 2, 2019
Feb 2, 2019 at 7:04 PM UTC
The young lady asked the Yeti
“What is your name…do you have one?” As the kissed.
While kissing, the Yeti said that he had no name. So the young lady
Massaging his chest gave him a name
Vajramrita… after the fierce deity
For he was a fierce lover.
He kissed her on the fore head.
Vajramrita and the young woman kissed
Their tounges me and dance erotically.
She sat on her lover while kisssing and rode him and rolled her hips.
He ****** with her ****** rhythms as they coupled.
Soon enough the Yeti got on top of his delecate lover.
He entered her and gently jumping
As if trying not to hurt her
The yeti thengot between her legs
She could feel his face bewteen her.
Then she felt his probing tounge.
He gently yet passionately kissed her womanhood
Again not to hurt her.
Even monsters need love and defection.
The young woman stroked his head and he looked at her.
She took him my the scruff and pulled his head closer to her
And kissed him. As they kissed monster and human explore eachother in an embrace
The young lady went down
And kissed and nipped at his member.
After she was done with his member
The kissed and they slept in each other’s arms
Body twisted and entwined together
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 2:17 PM UTC
What fools we are to spend our lives
not painting or *******
What feels better in our hands
than a brush or a lover
To feel the paint spread along the canvass
And tounges pressed against our flesh
To explore and mix colors before our eyes
And tangle and twist our limbs
To merge heaven and hell with water and paper
And lust and sin with lips and skin
Push the sky with oil and knife
Open legs with mouth and breath
Make flowers bloom in eternal night
Draw moans from throat and *****
Let the paint and nectar flow
Melt flesh and expose our souls
Passion paints desire
Desire burns our bones
Lets not waste our time
And hold brush and lust and love
And paint our every hour
and grind hips to lips to sin and moan
Lets not waste what little time
We have to make life beautiful
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 10:28 AM UTC
The black man stalks my dreams again.
With his oil spill eyes
And venomous smile
He speaks in tounges
And bent up promises.
He jokes, Call me Cain.
Adam Judas Satan Jesus
Gabriel ******* Whale.
I call him the Whale
For he has swallowed me whole.
He is the flood
and I am swept away debris.
He calls me Seven
(That *******
One for every sin I've mastered.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 12:10 PM UTC
The montage of faces
from all corners of the globe,
new tounges, thoughtful eyes.
A generation safe from past
strains of inhumanity.
There's no hobsons choice
only permanent reinvention.
The glory to be who you wish
the edifying gift bestowed
from England the hub of the free
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 8:34 AM UTC
coherent breathing,
eyes closing,
hands feeling,
hearts twirling,
tounges touching,
hormones blazing,
skin sweating,
****** obeying,
teacher interrupting.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 2:26 PM UTC
There is something about your smile that makes me want to part your lips
And discover the touch of your fingertips as they carve your name into my back
To feel the warmth of your breath as your teeth release the blood within my neck
Revealing the hidden lust and rage of my pulse
Letting both tounges and limbs tangle and twist
Along the secrets locked beneath the colors of hushed closed eyes
To give you my flesh and bone and time
To grind away
To pave the sky
To paint the stars
To have my heart and life explode
And scatter across the dark haunted sky
Below the slight part of your lips
As the moon reflects
The mystery and beauty
Of your smile
Oct 27, 2016
Oct 27, 2016 at 6:25 PM UTC
A fire is burning
Deep inside
One to set me a blaze
That you fuel with hate
It's tounges of heat
Only add strenghth to my frozen heart
It's firey passion
Ready to shoot you will a storm
Of icicles
I have cried my frozen tears over you
And felt my blood boil in pain
But now that pain becomes a gate
To freedom
Too long have you governed over me
Too long have to called me ugly and fat
Too long have you laughed at my ideas
Too long have you talked behind my back
Though I can not leave in form
For now I'm gone in spirit
Smiling in front of you, laughing at your jokes
While my fire sparks inside
And my heart cools with malice
No longer will I feel you shots
Because if you shoot at an inferno
The bullets are lost in the blaze
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 1:01 AM UTC
The Yeti refusing to leave his
Love slave alone
Went with the her to the wildflowers
As she picks the flowers.
He taps his lover on the shoulder.
And kisses her gently
She falls down
Not out of fear but because of desire was so intense.
She take ms him by his furry face
And they shyly couple and kiss.
Was it the mountain air
Or
Because her skilled lover
She was in esctasy.
She kisses the Yeti and their tounges met in an ******
And emotional dance.
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 1:23 PM UTC
Sweaty palms
Long distance calls
Looming nervous presence
Bouncing mania
Preemptive dreams
Persuasion
Inadequacy
Salty tounges
Squealing
Subtle disproval
Financial discorse
Flamboyant pandering
Off-balance pulls
Compromised callings
Charismatic turmoil
Jun 7, 2019
Jun 7, 2019 at 11:58 PM UTC
Such a simple action leads to such an extensive mistake.
An action of pure love led on by desire and lust,
Collision of raw emotions,
Confusing thoughts,
Twisted tounges speaking laughable excuses,
A long never ending twisted road lies ahead,
Lives eternally changed.
There is no easy way down the treacherous path,
People will end up betrayed,
Hurt.
Guilt.
No one to blame but themselves.
Two senseless lovers bonded together for a lifetime.
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 4:11 AM UTC
Why do I go into the talklamakan desert
To trace the steps of my love
His gentle Buddha like face
Engraved in both
Mind and heart.
I travel with a broken heart.
Why do I go into the talklamakan desert
To see the last places
That my love
Went to.
The memories
Of our coupling
Seared into my being
I travel with a broken heart
Why do I go into the talklamakan desert
To find the disembodied
Soul of my love
Memories of talking about the teachings
Bookmarked in the heart.
I travel with a broken heart.
Why do I go into the talklamakan
Desert
To be reunited with my love
Into a place of souls and demons
It’s night
I sleep next to
A watch tower
Hearing: “nga kayrangla gawpo nebo, I always will!”
Was this the last place he went
I travel with a broken heart.
I dream of the times in Lhasa
When you were still with me
Coupling in the eachothers arms.
Then I hear his voice
“Nga kayrangla gawpo yo nebo, I always will!”
I awake in the middle of the night
In the middle of the talklamakan
I finally see him
Still that monk I loved
But he was undead
I did not care
We embraced
And kissed
Our tounges danced
We both wanted to couple
But he was a zombie
And I was alive.
I hold him
As if he was so precious
I gently kiss him
And I walk into a town
Crying to my self.
I traveled with a broken heart.
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 7:14 AM UTC