"twinkly" poems
Your kind of love cripples me
I am weak,
I am sad,
I feel hopeless
You make me feel like raggedy Ann
Red braids and strips stocking
Cherry lips with white and blue smocking
A fabulous smile with twinkly eyes
I am flawless today
However, tomorrow I will be worthless
I am emotionally abuse
By the master of deception
Mr. Lover
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 7:24 PM UTC
Am I really that uncouth?
Have you lot yet worked out the truth.
The **** I write, it's so contrite.
I know you're dim
but I thought you might.
I've been feeding bananas to you all.
Big bananas, none are small.
All are bent, of course they are.
Enough's enough, it's gone too far.
Dear Voyeurs, to all my fans.
Some ride cycles, some drive vans.
for M&Y, yeah you're the guy.
So I bait my line and continue the lie.
But let's have it right, as well I might.
You wanted to play,
so pretended you're gay.
Now most I know aren't,
but one or two do.
Boiler repair guy with the twinkly eye.
Bent over in two, I spank with a shoe.
And all that he asks is, I call him Sue.
So I have him pegged,
for that's what he begged.
But now he knocks on my door
wanting much more.
Fuckin' Big Bent Bananas
by Kaydee.
(slurp, slurp)
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 2:55 PM UTC
***Night came and conquered my ceiling
Head tilted back to inherit it's familiar splendour.
But she isn't there... Left my heart slightly gaping.
O twinkly one, have you seen her?***
*She's mysteriously veiled tonight,
Playfully on her halo, dances gentle light.
Don't give up on her, listless moongazer,
She wants to be conquered, put up a good fight.*
***Persistent skirmish that sets dreams and reality apart,
Eyes don't see what the heart knows so clear,
Clarity eludes when forgotten scars start to smart,
Do you know if she even realises I'm here?***
*She knows, and dreams of your happy eyes,
That only her will hold on their feverish gaze.
Unbroken threads of hope, your yearning to baptize
And her ice cold craters to be set ablaze.*
***Fire in my vessel still burns bright and strong,
Never extinguished behind the facade of my weary husk,
My flame would endure just as the wick is long,
Tell me dear star, will I see her next dusk?***
*When the sun's swords will seize,
slashing the sky in dazzling blue,
When the air will bring a comforting ease,
Her glistening "yes" will welcome you.*
***Your comforting words ring only of truth,
Winking in codes, you might be right .
Darkness had claimed and engulfed all proof,
Will you accompany me through tonight?***
*This piercing question you don't have to ask me,
For even though my light's billion of years away,
Twinkling in your dreams I'll always be,
The night companion, under your moon's ray.*
ryn
Dajena M
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 10:29 AM UTC
I am Comfortable
able to ease your fears with
a smile or a flip of my
appropriately curly hair.
I am forgiven traffic ticket
proper sentences and twinkly
eyes, able to quickly ease your alarm
I am Just a Warning
I am The Exception
elegant sentences
king's English
never tolerating the incorrect use of their
I am private college education
the accessory to your culture
the other to your subject
always complimentary,
but never the source of discussion
I am Beautiful
Accompanied by "What are you mixed with"
A reflection of appropriation for my own culture
Too White for Black,
Too Black for White
I am inner city in the suburbs
I am Lightskinned
the kind of Black that keeps you
Comfortable.
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 5:04 PM UTC
Oh Compelling Magician
Why do your vibes glow?
You're tempting,
Mysterious,
But my brain is just too slow.
To keep with your illusions
And your twinkly fantasy
But I'm compelled to look in further,
To the effervescence,
Your majesty.
You have this way-
Pure,
And Indescribable.
It's magnetizing,
It's happy,
And it's quite unfathomable.
So dear, dear, magician
Please let me come close.
Tell me of your secrets,
Of the mystery of the cosmos.
I promise not to tell-
Your secret's safe with me.
And you'll have my heart forever,
Two magicians to be
Psychically, as one,
For all eternity.
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 1:12 PM UTC
going to the horror films
at ten years old
i wanted to be bitten by the vampire ladies
you know the ones
red brides from the netherworlds
with heaving *******
divinities of evil
with that dah look
in silky white gowns
a little messy from sleeping in the dirt
culture vulture goth girls
with upside down crosses
slags all gauzy bats in the belfry
deranged
but after all they where
dead
and dreadfully appealing
and I'm pretty fussy
so what the hell
they walked like floats
in marshy air
never touching the ground
above frozen dark crypt terrains
with twinkly bare feet
and black high glossed toenails
staring out of blood spilled eyes
drooling cloudy mouth hollows
and a yearning hungry countenance
encouraging me
to get closer
to bite me all over
pierce me
with needly fangs
puncturing little holes in tender me
making me leak like bad plumbing
until i sloped into the bog below
of course, i was panicked
all trembly
but i had a big one
for these evil shadowy ******* too
so i thought
yes
no
yes
no
yes
no
are you gonna **** me?
i asked
they drooled
ooow okay, i thought is it gonna hurt?
they shook there heads yes!
and drooled
real bad?
i inquired further
ah ha
they lingered glaring
drooling
i guess, waiting for me to make up my mind
oh okay anything for you
you dark dreamy girls
dilapidated queens of hell
with ballet derrières
"down and down I go
round and round I go
in a spin, lovin' the spin I'm in
under the old black magic called love"
after all at ten years old,
i already knew i was
a horror *****
and just a little turned on
Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 11:58 AM UTC
☆”˜˜”°•.¸☆ ★ ☆¸.•°”˜˜”°•.¸☆
Stars gather in a twinkly show
moon ascending in the dark sky,
drowsy souls falling asleep
in the still of night passing by.
*Drifting,
floating,
peaceful dreams*
in gentle flows of height, and depth,
myriad auroras of colors dance
a soft melody, on whispered breath.
Lingering just a moment or two
as the world of dreams take hold,
putting tired souls at ease
in a soothing light of mosaic gold.
*Drifting,
floating,
in songs of night*
magical melodies fill the air,
floating upon a gentle breeze
tranquil moments, and answered prayers.
Stars gather in a twinkly show
moon ascending in the dark sky,
drowsy souls falling asleep
in the still of night passing by.
~
☆”˜˜”°•.¸☆ ★ ☆¸.•°”˜˜”°•.¸☆
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 11:38 PM UTC
Will it be shining again all blue water?
Now is up to the luck.
Far from the twilight beach the sun
jumped in the sea is out of the light out of colour.
Lest it dives out catching the moon in the dark!
Twinkly stars, the studded diamond set
up in the high sky softly whisper:
As dark descends, a new moon
can drown with blindfolded eyes
but never lose her sway!
Over the black canvas of the darkened sea
lapping up one more dwarf - a submerged sun,
the untouched moon comes out.
And by now all the half-lit light bulbs up in the sky,
the cherubic stars are mirrored upon the sea water.
Now will the moon paint its mystique blue limelight
or will toy away once again being untouched?
Apr 25, 2019
Apr 25, 2019 at 10:32 AM UTC
I told you this would last forever
But I lied
I said things will never change
But I lied
I told you you were beatiful, even though I can't explain beauty
So I lied
I told you Red was a beatiful color
but who and what describes beauty?
For they say the beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder
I say it's mostly directly proportional to how you feel about a person
Excuse my mathematical jargon because I'm no Mathematician
Don't they say in the Bible that King Solom wore Purple, the color of beauty, the color of wisdom
But who am I to tell it different so, I lied
I said your skin was as smooth as silk and as beautiful as vanilla but, was it? Was it really? I know I couldn't tell the truth so, I lied
I told you your eyes are beatiful, your eyes are big, twinkly
Maybe I lied, it was just your pupil dialating when it saw my light
I told you I could give you the world,
But the world was not mine to give to begin with, but baby its what you wanted so, I lied
I also told you the sky was green, the sea was blue, and you believed every word, I'm sorry
Maybe I lie a bit too much, or maybe just enough, or maybe that's also a lie
It's mostly to protect you
Remeber that day at the park?
I held you in my arms
The world didn't seeze to exist but us
We swore to be together for life, was it a lie
You said you're mine forever and I'm yours too, or was it also a lie?
Can't keep with the lies no more
It's lie after lie because that's all what you seem to believe
Because truth to you, seems too good to be true
I remember the day you held my hand, looked me in the eye and said, "do you still love me? "
I know I used to answer that everyday with no doubt in my mind, but that day,
The answer remained the same,
As I said proudly, "I still do babe"
Guess what?...
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 9:16 AM UTC
Your kind of love cripples me
I am weak,
I am sad,
I feel hopeless
You turned my life into a contest
Two for the price of one, plus a dollar:
You make me feel like raggedy Ann
Red braids and strips stocking
Cherry lips with white and blue smocking
A fabulous smile with twinkly eyes
am I the next Ms. Amy Winehouse?
I have let my mind become one with my thoughts
like an overpower incoming tide,
I am dying on the inside
I am flawless today
Eventually, tomorrow I will feel worthless
I am emotional abuse by
the master of deception and that’s you
I was your candy, yet you withdraw the cane
Leaving the flavor all sticky- icky
My long distant Lover
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 6:07 AM UTC
Seven Glorious Ones,
Are searching for our Tin!
Across seven vast ages,
Though here’s where we’ll begin.
And those twinkly-ones appear,
Stare from the painted haze…
Those ‘eyes’ attract, erratic mind…
Tin settle’s on their gaze.
Run Tin! Run! Her falling velvet,
Stag-man hangs now on horizon,
Hunter’s purpose, -rage!
Mourn the loss, Oh brave Tin,
Brave hero Tin, -seven dancing on your grave.
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 12:00 AM UTC
Home sweet home.
I'm here again.
Nothing to do but sleep, and eat, and smile.
I know I will enjoy myself all the while.
Twinkly icicle lights illuminate the hallway.
Doing their job, and alluring me to stay.
Mom and dad saying they're so happy to see me more.
But in three weeks, I will leave like I have before.
Home sweet home.
It's a nice time for a visit.
Home sweet home.
I will leave soon.
And I will miss it.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 10:43 AM UTC
It’s my thang a langwitch spellproteckter go getter- sleek katrina stereowrite braid these monster tentacles aww now cute buzz pro bro-intellectual collaboration gush &fush; & fleek flecks firecompass full of grandiose art verses culture legions sing over and outty 5000 package cursive dialog primer kilameter romance make it equator atypical retro passion that ****** away cuss words p phucker! grade cheated tempo cuntgrunge klue move shadows to stand alones while in line to get in the barfuck gang outside party with smilie txt tshirt and a computer on diet coke kush telescope acid whatever like you feel like emitting or like have 9 thoughts about or like forgot about escaping like post fever social media to become a social sensation out of perception the limited yet coveted cherished harps and fairies and twinkly shimmery **** that doesnt growl or grunt huh? Speech please dont
As if i had the guts to stomp on a butterfly-award speaking dear diary fanatics central stranger than fictive red read (aloud allowed?)Which one. politically slurred thousand jury chapter grew some serious social security numbers and dyed them to prove a cutup battle wins the war
**** **** fick fock u
Mindseekers
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 9:16 AM UTC
i dream of a coven of witches quaaluding through the night to kidnap me and fly me away as an object of their seasonal *** magick ritual, to conjure a 5th dimensional being, who will possess me when the ***** & planets are aligned just right.
the cult of drunk chicks laughs on butterscotch and blood, born in the early 90s, they are mtv-obsessed, twitter/tumblr toned, disney-raised and disney-praised and trained in the ways of camping and conjuring and makeup and volleyball, or soccer, or both. they have killer legs.
& i fall asleep for 1000 years to penumbra.
the demon has my body, and he worships their legs. and they worship his wars. and his money. and his twinkly brass knuckle conference calls. they worship his ability to peel the spines from culture and countries and cook-off the clinging meat-bits left on the bone in a broth or stew or gruel of hopeful has-beens and dreamers of love.
awaken.
to the apocalypse so long and wrought and beautiful as the novels and films and serials proposed.
the bomb was loved, and the love mushroomed, and the mushrooms were plucked and ****** upon by gleeful young savages for nutritional values.
and those values grow.
and the growth is seen as succulent fruit hanging from trees in gardens in groves and the groves are in troves where they blanket and blush.
the world is made right again,
by seedlings and the green.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 3:06 AM UTC
wind was sweeping darkness
clouds cluttered the horizon
in all directions
encircling clear, midnight sky
foreshadowing the full moon
shiny, twinkly things beamed brightly
in pollution’s absence
mulberry, guava and palm
swayed in silhouette
dancing to wind chime songs
soft clacks, tinkles and bongs
fragrant breezes carried ocean
like a sweet smelling memory
gently stirring the stillness
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 3:08 PM UTC
I am a rare breed. I'm a soft breeze in the very beginning of fall. The little orange leaf that's fallen off the branch of a forty foot tall tree. I am cardigans and ginger hair braided back with a little daisy chain tucked behind my ears. I am the smell of a new book right if the shelf of Barns And Nobel. I am the leather bound journal used for writing down the secrets God shares with His children. I am twinkly lights hung around white walls. A sweet smelling candle and warm pumpkin pie.
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 12:11 AM UTC
Moldy sprocket of time piece.
Stop watching my every crease,
As it folds into my cheeks.
Wisdom grows my crows feet.
Twinkly locket locked in.
Place based on my chest, breast plate,
Sternum pinned beside the window sill.
Watching the sun bathe.
Light.
Bring it to lips.
Hold that picture clutch it, touch it,
Smother with wishes, pictures held of
Long dark hair,
Sprinkle, glitter eyes and twilight of moon, inside,
This prize.
One small 1 inch circumscribed ebb and flow of milky skins.
As you can see in this tin man trinket,
Winks and blinks, under blankets and springs,
Of the bed setting marched upon by dark hair love speech.
To my Juliet, who never sweats, never worries, knows best,
Knows truth, no jealousy, nothing more than a friend.
Living in Austin.
Our paths never crossing,
This entire Texas will always keep her away from me;
But nothing will keep her from me like the grand canyon we've created between each other through pain submitted to.
“Christian. You should leave.”
walks away.
Ran through the hedge row, directly through head bowed,
Crushed it's leaves and vines and twigs, ten thousand mangroves didn't stop my legs.
Rammed my head into a wall with all the force to knock me out.
Collapsed my lungs.
In the middle of the night, sixth street and east.
Hated me for months. Maybe years,
Embalm some dead.
That night, she hit me with an oak board, over 70 times,
My buttocks bruised black and blue hue of the night like broken
Maxillary bone black eyes, the perfect color of sleep.
I Never Flinched A Bit.
I Hope she never reads this poem, I hope my future lover doesn't either.
It will still be just ****
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 11:43 PM UTC
And on the Box it said...."Hello. We are Razor Blades.
There are five of us to a box. We do not know who you are
but we are interested in anything that God has made.
We are five of us, and in this box
we have been sharp,
but it's funny, we can't seem to remember
how dull your life is....Without Brand New Razor Blades
manufactured in Germany and five to a box.
We thought you looked familiar but we all agree
that we're exactly like the world.
The World is Sharp. Manufactured in Germany
and five to a box.
Well, whoever you are, thank you
for startling us from the twinkly dreams of Razor Blades.
We got lost there once. The five of us.
And we forget the details now; But anyway...
We are not the revelation. We come in peace
and it ***** to be you in your prime.
Shackled to a raven
that remembers nothing has a purpose
when the bloom is vibrant and the world
is loathe to give a **** But we digress.
Surely we've met before...But you didn't speak.
You were thinking.
What were you thinking ?
Rinse in cold water. Use Wisely.
Thank you for buying Brand New RazorBlades!
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 3:09 PM UTC
*Touching hearts, easing minds
let ink and souls intertwine
with truth and love so divine
trust the muse to be your guide.
Whisper words upon silken skin
with softest ink flowing from pen
touching souls deep within
trust the muse to be your guide.
Pen your ink in loves design
let beauty fill the heart and mind
as the softest of inks gently combine
trust the muse to be your guide.
Under the stars twinkly shine
let ink and beauty intertwine
kissed by silver moonshine
trust the muse to be your guide.
~*
© 2017 Brianna Love/SA/DBMA
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 7:16 PM UTC
When I was little, I dreamt of a beautiful man.
He would take me in his arms and carry me away.
We would hold each other under the twinkly lights,
and fall asleep Like that.
Then I would wake up, and steal his body.
Then I would step inside and wear it.
Then I would go out into the world,
and be myself.
I would be happy to say hello to everyone,
and be unabashedly me, in a proper body.
And whether people were kind or hateful,
it wouldn't matter.
Because I was in love with me.
Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 2:09 PM UTC
*
***neither party nights
nor the shining lights
neither music loud
nor happening crowd
neither flaunting clothes
nor updated wardrobes
neither make-up showy
nor glittery jewellery...
love my comfort zone
in my way own
an evening with moon afar
a night under twinkly stars
give me a peaceful corner
and a pen with paper
in a candle dim
the thoughts sing
the words dance
a poetic chance
a divine romance
the onset of a trance...***
*
Sep 3, 2019
Sep 3, 2019 at 12:06 PM UTC
there are two floors
in my house
an upstairs
and a downstairs
separated by a
gray and green
concrete stairwell
where the footsteps
echo and voices bounce
against the fluorescence
i like the stairwell
it's transient and
i spend a lot of
time just running
up and down it
down and up it
there are two floors
in my house
the upstairs doesn't have
a roof. it has a white
background and blue
skies. the carpet is the fluffy
enough to sink your toes into
the wood floors are
pale. there are parachutes
hot air balloons. birds.
paper planes. kites. all things
aerial swirling around my head
the downstairs has black
ceilings and a cold concrete
floor. it stains your feet black
and sends chills up your legs and
up your spine when the chains
and cages rattle. chains. cages
are mostly what's down there
and they rattle. they rattle a lot
the upstairs has a piano and
polariod pictures. soft blankets
sweaters and a coffee fountain
right in the middle. there are
puppies and yarn and the puppies
play in the yarn. but the yarn
never gets tangled or linty and
there's always a sunset or sunrise
a fresh start or a peaceful end
depending. hot tea twinkly lights
candles and old movies or shows
oh and a lake. my very own lake
and the colors! there is every
color imaginable upstairs
but the downstairs is very quiet
very dark. no windows or sun
and the only creatures playing
are the ones in the cages
knitting shadows into gray
monochrome striped ski masks
there are more things upstairs
things even more pleasant than i
even just described. like fish tanks
and umbrellas. bicycles and
brightly painted cows. but i often
forget the lovely tableaus up there
when the groaning and clanking
from the basement echoes up
the stairs and i creep down
to see what's happening
and the black
begins to seep
i get trapped
down there sometimes
down in the musty damp
with the ghosts and fear
and i wish i had
a yellow helium balloon
tied to my wrist
to pull me back upwards
back to my safe world
of fresh paint and denim
there are two floors
in my house
an upstairs
and a downstairs
where shall
i sleep tonight?
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 9:33 PM UTC
When I stand before the mirror
to my horror
I find I have lost me
stares back at me
Sherlock
though I hate him
he warms up to me
takes me in his reins
morose eyes twinkly
gait sprightly
I become him
waken and in dream
memorizing his line
making his habits mine
like him I sprint
trails of footprint
and in all his fantasy
I'm no more me.
He scares
haunting in nightmares
one part
one heart
one role
He steals my soul.
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC