Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Cné Aug 2015
Silently I cry hoping no one hears
Secretly caring for another in love's affairs
Experiencing love's worst of weapons
Heartbreak ominously beckons

Silently tears fall as I lie alone
On the bathroom floor unbeknown
For there are no more words, no more lies
Only a silent tear that never dries

Silently I cry with images of his face
Dimpled cheeks, his kiss and warm embrace
Hopelessness ensues for the way he held me tight
Remembering he's with her tonight

I lay in bed at night beside the one I'm bound
Holding my breath as tears compound
Feeling the love I once gave and then knew
All the while he's with someone new

Silently shedding tears as my life takes its toll
Killing my very essence, my mind, body and soul
Hearing the words, feeling the crippling pain
A lover's secret inevitably ends in vain
Edna Sweetlove May 2015
I woke up to a beautiful summer morning. The sun was shining and the rainclouds were far away. I decided I would spend the day on the beach. I always enjoy visiting the beach as it gives me an opportunity to laugh at people's hideous bodies. But where? And then, suddenly, a wonderful idea came to me: why not go to a nudist beach as they always attract the ugliest people with the worst bodies imaginable. And you get to see their naughty bits too, for added humour.

So I rushed to my computer to check the Internet for possibilities and, to my utter amazement, I discovered there was a naturist beach only fifty miles from my beautiful home. As I read the details of the beach and the directions, I had a sense of déja vu; I realised with a frisson of ****** anticipation that it was the very same beach described by Victor the ****** in his wonderful story "Confessions of a ******" which held pride of place on my toilet reading shelf.

I was at the wheel of my incredibly expensive and luxurious car just as soon as my servants had packed my essential requirements: icebox with chilled vintage champagne, lightweight folding gold-plated sun-lounger, vicuna picnic rug and of course my lunch hamper. My chef had rapidly prepared a delicious impromptu luncheon of smoked salmon, steak tartare and a selection of other goodies. I decided to dispense with the services of my chauffeur in the interests of preserving the confidentiality of my destination.

In less than an hour and a half I was there; and the place was exactly as Victor had described it in his immortal novella: a long stretch of mixed sand and pebbles, backed by dunes planted with wild grass, waving romantically in the sea breeze. Idyllic, and crawling with naked perverts as a bonus. I parked my car and transported my equipment to the dunes. I regretted not having brought one of the servants as the hamper and icebox were quite cumbersome and heavy. I was perspiring gently by the time I had unloaded everything and set it all up to my satisfaction.

I took some care in selecting what I felt was the optimum location as I needed to combine the potentially conflicting benefits of wanting to see as many naked people as possible (hopefully including some *** action) with the need for privacy. After all I am famous. I finally chose a spot where there were several ghastly specimens on view for a few laughs and where I could also see a potentially interesting couple who might be exhibitionistic perverts. The man was about 45, shaven-headed, skinny and prematurely wrinkled all over by the sun (yes, I do mean all over) and he had an interesting tattoo on his back: "I love hot ***** ***", which I saw as promising. The woman was plump with pendulous ******* and very prominent buttocks; additionally - how can I put this delicately? - her **** was totally bereft of hair.

Before settling down to my lunch, I felt a little perambulation would not come amiss. So, as bold as brass, off I went for a little **** stroll through the dunes. I will not describe in full detail the visual horrors I encountered: hirsute old men playing aimlessly with wizened, shrunken todgers the size of a thimble; obese old biddies, their rolls of sun-tanned lard hanging round them like rows of bloated udders on a pregnant sow; tattooed bald queens, muscles bulging under lashings of sun-oil, their pierced genitals glinting wickedly in the sunshine; the list was endless. How could such grotesques revel in revealing their corporeal repulsion to the eager world?

And then I saw him! It had to be him! In a dip in the sand dunes lay a middle-aged, paunchy little man, intently watching a couple of old ******* groping each other incompetently. It could only be Victor the One-Legged ******! After all, just how many unipod Peeping Toms are there?

I strolled over to him, coughing discreetly so as to give him a chance to stop his furtive *******. 'Do excuse me for disturbing you,' I said, 'but are you by any chance Victor the famous ****** whose confession I read only last week?'

'Why yes,' he admitted, 'but how on earth did you recognise me?'

I smiled and pointed to the cast-off artificial leg lying next to his beach towel (which, incidentally, was emblazoned by a giant "V", a bit of an identity hint, I felt). He patted his stump ruefully and laughed uproariously so that his average-sized ***** flapped like a pennant in a Force Eight gale. 'I forgot,' he bellowed deliriously.

'I'm just about to have a spot of lunch,' I said. 'My personal Michelin-starred chef, Jean-Claude Anusse, always over-caters ridiculously as he knows I often pick up people on my excursions, so there'll be more than enough. I'm afraid it's nothing special: some smoked salmon and some assorted cold meats, possibly a spot of pâté de foie gras, if I know Jean-Claude. And, naturally, enough champagne to drown a hippo in. Please do say yes, as I have so many questions to ask you about your hobby.'

'That's very kind of you.' mumbled the astonished Peeping Tom, 'I should be very happy to accept your generous offer. Incidentally, to whom have I the honour of speaking?'

I was, frankly, shocked when I realised Victor had not recognised me, and then I remembered I was naked. That explained it. 'Why, I am none other than Edna Sweetlove, poetess to the stars, creator of the Barry Hodges "Memories" poems and biographer to the intrepid and incredible superhero SNOGGO,' I murmured sotto voce, not wishing to be mobbed for my autograph.

'Edna Sweetlove!' he exclaimed, 'you mean THE Edna Sweetlove?' And so saying he glanced down to my genital zone in order to answer the question which so many of my fans have asked over the years. He grinned as he saw the solution to the great mystery.

Victor quickly strapped on his prosthesis and accompanied me (slightly lopsidedly) to my little luncheon site. He helped me unpack our repast and then made himself as comfortable as a naked one legged ****** could reasonably expect to be without a chair.

I must say Chef and his team had excelled himself in the thirty minutes I had given them: smoked salmon roulades, a magnifique plateau de fruits de mer including a three-pound giant lobster, steak tartare, a whole cold pintarde à l'ail, a few dozen sushi rolls, a monster summer pudding, and naturally a Jeraboam of Krug '92. No wonder the hamper had been so ******* heavy. I could see Victor was impressed as I offered him a chilled flute of the most expensive champagne he had ever tasted. 'Better than the pathetic, poverty-stricken muck you were going to gobble, I expect,' I commented in a friendly way.

'Mmmmmmmmm! Absolutely delicious, Edna. I was certainly not expecting this! exclaimed the grateful freak. But before we start on what looks like a truly exquisite nosh-up, I must give you a word of warning.'

'A word of warning? What about, Victor dear?'

'Well, you see, there's no, um....er,' he blushed charmingly.

'No what, Victor? Don't be embarrassed, sweetie. This is Edna you're talking to. Spit it out, baby.'

'Well, um, there's no ******* on the beach, Edna,' explained Victor uncomfortably. 'So, if you need to pump ship, you have to do it native-style "au naturel" in the dunes over there, which can be a bit messy what with all the filth lying about the place in that area, not to mention the lavvo-voyeurs hanging round. Or else you need to swim out a bit and unload into the sea. Judging by what's on offer at your stylish picnic, we'll both be bursting for a good old **** and crap afterwards.'

I shrieked with laughter and explained there was nothing I liked better than a widdle en plein air or a double act dans l'eau. We then tucked into lunch with a vengeance. It was ******* delicious, even though I say so myself. After about fifteen minutes' happy munching, interspersed with witty small talk, Victor suddenly went rigid. 'Look over there!' he hissed and indicated the middle-aged couple by the windbreak.

I looked and I was surprised. The plump woman with the big *** was on her knees in front of her partner, giving him a vigorous *******, and he was lolling back in ecstasy, a broad smile on his face. He seemed to be looking straight at us, almost visibly willing us to watch. He winked repeatedly in a conspiratorial fashion; maybe he had St Vitus’ Dance. Or even worse, he wanted me to get stuck into the action with them.

'They're regulars here, they normally put on quite a good show,' explained Victor excitedly, his hand reaching down automatically to his rapidly stiffening ****.

'Victor!' I admonished him, 'I would prefer it if you didn't **** yourself off during lunch. How about another oyster, you silly old ****?'

'Sorry, Edna, I forgot,' he replied shamefacedly. 'No more oysters thank you; they only make me more randy than I already am. But I'll have another lobster claw if I may. My compliments to your chef.'

So we sipped our champagne and enjoyed our luncheon as we watched the couple give us their little exhibition. After a few minutes *******, the fat lady turned around and leaned forward on her hands and knees and her gnarled bald hubby ******* her doggy fashion from behind with some gusto; this made her beefy buns bounce about like two ferrets fighting in a sack.

I glanced around us and realised that, totally unbeknown to me, the little spectacle had attracted quite an audience. Nine men, young and old, short and tall, fat and skinny, stood staring transfixed by the petite scène erotique before us, all ******* wildly. 'Oi!' I called out. 'Can't you see we're eating?' I admonished them, but to no ******* avail whatsoever.

Victor was visibly torn between his innate desire to watch the copulators and masturbators and with his understandable wish not to offend his lunch companion by manhandling himself unrestrainedly. But, thank God, his natural good manners prevailed and we continued to converse and enjoy our meal in the midst of this Bacchanalian scene of depravity.

I watched dispassionately as the couple came to what sounded like a very satisfactory mutual ******, accompanied by the observers' seminal tributes to their performance. I naturally had filmed the entire scene secretly on my state-of-the-art mobile.

'If you give me your email address, Victor my love, I'll send you a copy of that little show,' I promised. He nodded in gratitude. 'Victor  the ****** at yahoo dot co dot uk,' he mumbled rapidly, 'no dots, Victorthevoyeur is all one word.'

Once we had polished off lunch, I told Victor I would like to interview him with a view to writing a short story about his life's work. He was touchingly flattered and, with a little judicious prompting and probing, told me his saga, which I recorded on my Edna-phone. I naturally don't want to pre-empt my forthcoming mini-biography of Victor, but suffice it to say that Victor told me how and why he became a ******, he regaled me with some of the staggering things he had seen, he gave me a list of some really ace ******* locations, he shared all his best peeping places with me, he gave me the ultimate lowdown on the world of Britain's most celebrated *** snooper and I was touched by his burning honesty. I felt a tear ***** my eye at this tragic tale.

All too soon it was time for us to part. After thanking me profusely and making me promise I would visit him one day so he could repay my generosity, he re-attached his metal leg and limped away towards his beach towel. I knew he was raring to go as the best of the action normally took place in the early evening.

'Farewell, dearest Victor,' I called out as he tripped clumsily over a fellow pervert who had been eavesdropping near us.
Poetic T Jan 2015
He was lonely, as was his heart, carver
Of wood, he searched upon forest &
Glade till before his eyes laid sight of a masterpiece,
Home he hurried
Carving,  
Smoothing,
Varnishing
Not noticing or ignoring the black knot
But unbeknown, this was a deeper
Problem. Rotten, decayed black festered
Within not showing on the outside,
But things are missed in joy,
Things that will haunt, but he was finished
His boy of wood stood before
His so tearful eyes, your only wood
Only inanimate, sitting before my weeping eyes.
Heard where his whispers
Upon a night were they asked back,
"You are of sound heart"
"You are of compassion"
"You will have a son of wood with life in his heart"
As he looked upward,
A sight befell his reddened eyes
"FATHER"
Words fell forth unto his ears,
"Did you just speak??
"Father"
He hugged upon wood given life,
"Son"
"Son"
"A boy of my own given life"
"I love you son"
"I love you father"
His nose grew,
leaves sprouted forth,
"Aaghhhhh"
As Pinocchio snapped what grew forth,
And throw it upon the floor,
In pain he reeled,
"Son be calm"
For lies will be greeted by growth
Shall a lie be told, only good boys
And girls realise that honesty will be rewarded.
With that he cuddled his father, you know
Not love but I will show you unconditionally
Till you understand honesty also love,
Upon those words both bedded
For the night was late and father was old,
But he never slept, upon the floor
Part of him that broke off,
Now tainted black,
As it had succumb to its chosen fate,
As he fashioned upon tools
A living weapon,
"Blackest as night"
He felt connected
They were apart but one.
Into the bedroom he crept,
"Father"
"Father"
"Awaken"
Startled old eyes widen, I have a gift,
As he plunges it forth,
Son whhhhy I loveeee youuu
"I am but wooden given life"
"Blackness rots inside"
"It must feed"
For without it I will cease,
When I was just cold
It was my end no difference to any one.
And now given life
That is all that matters this night,
And with that he ****** into his
"Fathers heart"
He felt relief inside no more ties
But he cried splintered tears upon his
Blood they mixed upon the floor
He had extinguished his first life.
He needed to stem the flow as
He felt the veins rooting further
Life was his not easily given up,
The town fell silent that night,
As he fed well, he charred his
Finger tips black upon once so tanned,
So to feed with both knife and hand.
He would travel the world, death in his wake
All thought
"How unique"
"How harmless"
"How sweet"
But when the hunger craved,
Life was bled,  life was ceased
All for the rot to not **** this wooden boy
"Rotten core in a boys shell"
Prey his nose does not grow just a little
Because your time in life will be up.
The Raven Queen came from simple country roots
No royal silver spoon did she carry
Raised by unpretentious witches holding great wisdom
Old Gertrude, Esmeralda and Tregarry

Three witches known as spiritual leaders of the valley
Of lowly peasants and abundant woods
Raised her up simply infused with a fiery spirit
Proclaiming the law of the land to be good

Two faces reigned within the leaders and peasants
One which was shown to The Law
The other kept hidden as they lowly bowed to the wind
Praising the moon and icy snow as it thawed

A tale of hidden woe these three leaders carried
Unbeknown to the Raven Queen
Of her true heritage and the tainted gold they kept
From the night Old Death intervened

Old Death quietly crept in on her birthing night
Stole her sweet mother away
Yet for a fee the wise leaders took her in to love
Knowing who she would be one day

An eager student their young queen became
Learning the wisdom of the truth
Quite an apprentice in the ways of the wind
She became early in her youth

All at once the fiercest Winter ever known to the valley
Brought in terrible winds and bitter snow
The young queen watched as the peasants trembled
As savage wolves entered their fold

Great hunger came to the valley along with Old Death
Dissension was called into play
Soon, each of the leaders knew the time had come
To teach her the dark side of their ways

She was pulled from light into the darkest shadows  
To embrace her own true destiny
Her dark light shone through the woods and the valley
Bringing the savage wolves to bay

Fear of the Raven Queen’s light spread from the valley
Coursing through the veins of The Law
Sending in fierce horsemen thundering with vengeance
Her own lifeblood they came to draw

She answered their thundering with her own call
Heads for heads, raging fire with ice
Saving the ones who took her under their wings
Returning their tainted gold at a price
Copyright *Neva Flores @2010
www.changefulstorm.blogspot.com
www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/Changefulstorm

*My version of an old tale...............
Marshal Gebbie Jan 2010
Seldom doth man stop and stare
At the caste iron manhole cover there,
Seldom doth he analyze
The majesty, which beneath it lies.
The pipe work systems vast and long
Dark catacombs so precise and strong,
Buried deep beneath our feet
Extending forth from street to street,
Out across the breadth of town
Those secret fluids trickle down.


Laser levels carve the pathway
Through the walls of solid stone,
Shovels scrape and dig with effort
Forging hard trajectories home.
Digging, digging metal mountains
Sweat cascades upon the brow,
We lay the pipes in straight formation
Precision's satisfaction now.


An Artisan's great work is hidden
Lost beneath the earth's grey stone,
Appreciation camouflaged in that,
The cast iron manhole stands alone.
Magnificence unrealized
For deep beneath your feet,
A subterranean Michelangelo's
Sisteen Chapel, lays discreet.


Unsuspected rivers
Flowing darkly to the sea
In caverns of unwanted waste
Quite unbeknown to thee.
Vaulting brickwork chambers
Which are ancient works of art,
Carry oceans of excretement
Far from where their journey's start.


With thunder's crash and lightning flash
And torrents of cold rain,
The road's awash and gutters flow
Through roadside grates to drain.
Gushing torrents cascade down
In waves of flowing might
To the storm water system
Which promptly swallows it from sight.


Magic, you say ?
Nay, nay I say unto you
That the drain layers artistry
Is unappreciated, that's true !
That the Herculean effort wrought
In winning his great fights
Is largely lost to all and sundry
Who avoid construction sites.
They miss the planning and the layout
And meticulousness too
And the rubber seals which stop the leaks
Which really bother you.
The massive holes and danger
Of being buried in collapse
And the wondrous satisfaction
Of achieving downhill flows... Perhaps!


Marshalg
Apprentice drain layer
MHX Beachcroft site and Eastport
19 September 2009
Perveiz Ali Apr 2018
Kashmir  

Known but uncertain.
A macabre aura in her lush green valley
Swirls along the lanes and the by lanes,
Humming the death songs, and
Mocking the mother's lullaby;
Inundates the spring of love
Reeling under the gales of remorse !

I- Pulwama

Pulsating pain,
Unbeknown to the servants of chair,
Leaches out the marrow of tolerance,
Wobbles the calmness of quiet sea,
And reduces the sane to stupors;
Mayhem clouds the canvas of peace
And ruins the crop of pride!

II- Shopian

Singing the songs of hope, but-
Hearth of ignominy blazes its zenith
Over the apple-bough bedecked contours.
Perforated is every bud that dares to live
In the middle of the 'dance of death'
Akin to the blind devastating tornado,
Nay, a fair of cherishing right to cease life!

III- Kulgam

Kind enough to lit the candle of austerity,
Unknown but to decipher abysmal cause of
Long lacuna in a journey called life;
Gog and Magog they name them
Arraying the apostles of deceit;
Machiavellianism it is, do they know!

IV- Anantnag

Amplified agony of terrorized souls
Nibble at the crumbs of shattered dreams
Along the periphery of devastated 'Lal-Chowk';
Nomadic but still the images find abode
Tethered with mournful sand of 'Sangam',
Nay, undulating terrain stands it firm
All denizens are but a reflection of
Galeanthropy!

V- Srinagar

Schizophrenic- An epithet
Round the clock they wear;
Illusionary clouds all around
Neap the momentum of ship
And strangulate everything in a fit of despair
Gushing out the marrow of patience
And leaving behind infertile soil
Regretting what it had?!

VI- Budgam

Beseeching to blossoms of almond-
Unlearn to rely on the artifacts
Destruction with their only aim;
Gabel otherwise bound to pay we are  
Along with the honour and digity,
Mundane- a certificate to be killed?!

VII- Bandipora

Beside the 'Wular Lake'
Antiquarian lot with over burdened brows-
Nothing to do but recollecting the days:
'Demons when were worshipped, and
Idols of falsity followed';
Pine high dreams kissing the ground
Over and above that can be documented;
Rolling is the agonising arid pain
Aching all the wasteland of wounds!

VIII- Ganderbal

Gloss of undulating terrain
Anguish in the paroxysms of swindle
Notches of which still bleed
Darkness of dark demegogues;
Eating up of the grey matter follows
Relying on the spoon feed, and
Blackout of the nursery of the intellect
Among the denizens,
Lost in sighs and sobs!

IX- Baramullah

Black and blue still explicit over
Amicable land of dreamers-
Roasted they are from decades;
Along the banks of Jhelum
Mutilated memories are hung
Under the hovering black clouds-
'Lost for words' is the expression,
Living souls visiting this garrison;
Alas! Caught we are between the deep sea and the devil
Heros we need in a land of sheepskin prophets!



X- Kupwara

'Kiss of death' is for the democracy
Unabsolved case of 'Kunun Poshpora';
Pacified unmarked mass graves
Welcome you to the countryside
Amidst the loaves of corpse, and
Roar of egos
Asking the citizens to prove their identity!
Steve D'Beard Nov 2012
come fly with me;
remind me of my own mortality
that child dreaming of
the adult waning:
a depth inside with many questions
unanswered

sleeping rainbows
are colourful bedfellows
open arms with empty words
are these your welcome smiles
unbeknown to me

chase the feelings that disappear
like raindrops that ebb moisture
on a warm day

Where are you now?
I'm disconnected from the world
I don't want to see the people on this earth in a swirl

I'm disconnected from my phone
I don't take calls no more I'm unbeknown

I'm disconnected from my music
I just can't hear no more in this cubic

I'm disconnected from my sweet love
I feel like an old unfit glove

I'm disconnected from my home
I don't want to live here no more I want to roam

I'm disconnected from reality
What Is real and what is fake maybe it's my mentality

I'm disconnected from my mind
The demons took their time

I wish I was plugged in
So I can live again
Written by: Denise Huddleston
Poetic T Dec 2016
Yes you did read the title correctly, a little kitten that couldn't meow and this is her story:

Cotton lived on a farm and she was having a baby,
but where cats have a litter [a lot of kittens]
For her she was seen by the vet and told she had only
                       one single baby,
this was cottons happiest moment.

The day came and all the animals were ready to
see a new addition brought in to there little piece
of heaven. And with the vet there to help little
cottons baby in to the world, the animals heard
the voice of the vet say its a baby girl.

With happiness all the animals gathered in celebration,
but unbeknown to them cotton was learning smudge
[yes smudge] she was a kaleidoscope of colour.
Her first words which was meant to be MEOW.
but the words were drowned out in the  celebration,
so many noises, that hers was missed out.

A few animals stayed after the celebrations to
see the new born, including Betty the cow,
Frankie the dog and Barbra the sheep.
Cotton was a little worried that Smudge hadn't
spoken her first word so she spoke to her.

"My little miracle,
"Speak to mamma, I need to hear your words.

Smudge looked in confusion but uttered what she
thought was the word her mummy needed to hear.

"Mummy, I will speak my voice,

And with that she took a breath in, and released it on
to her mothers ears.

"Meaoooooooooo,

The cow looked as its jaw dropped, "Mooooo, the other
cow said that's an udder statement.

Cotton looked and was taken aback by her daughters new words,
that wasn't expected and laughed.

"Mummy my voice why does it not sound like yours,
                
"Don't worry my child mummy will help you find it again,

Once again the little one listened to its mummy purr, then
with a deep breath she let out a beautiful "Meow,
it was like music to the daughters ears.

"Mummy that was beautiful, I want to sound like you,

A tear fell from her mothers eye,

"You will my darling smudge, let us give it another try,

So with nervous looks all around, smudge took a breath in
a with mighty exhale she gave out a "Mea-woof woof,
Frankie the dog just looked on in amazement.....

"That was howling amazing, I mean bark, bark..

As the vet entered the barn, surprised to see the animals all
watching this little one yawn, then slumber to sleep.
"How's mummy,
As she stroked Cottons fur she purred with delight at the
fuss that was being pampered to her.

Then as the vet left in her van, all the animals were staring
through the window to see if it was OK to talk.
All slept until the morning and as all awoke, noises were
heard first was Betty the cow "mooning, then Frankie the
dog, "I feel woof, I think I slept wrong, Barbra the sheep awoke
coughing, she said I think I have a frog in my throat.

Barbra coughed again, and out popped a frog "Ribbit,
"Sorry madam it was so warm in there,
Everyone was giggling as well as Betty.

"Now that I have cleared my throat,

Cotton smiled and gently ushered her daughter awake,
"Morning smudge,

She yawned and smiled at her mummy, rubbing her eyes
looking around to see her mummies friends eagerly waiting
to hear that needed voice to reappear..

"Mummy I was counting sheep when I went off to sleep,
Barbra smiled as her herd used the barn as a short cut to the field.

"Glad we could help Cotton,

Cotton yawned and a purr and meow came forth, a little tear
was in Smudges eye. Her mother saw and pawed it away,
Don't worry my little one once we find it you'll be using it
everyday. She smiled and jumped up and down on her tiny
paws, lapping up her milk she licked her whiskers and
looked at her mummy and said I think I can do it.

Looking proud she let out a what she hoped was her true
voice and with that she said let put in her cutest little voice

"meow, meow, meow,

Her mummy looked on proud as any mother could be,
everyone cheered that this little smudge had spoken
her true voice. "mummy, mummy was that me?

Barbra gave a sigh of relief as smudge didn't release
a Ba, Ba meow, she thought "I would have looked
rather sheepish if she had giggling she looked on.

Smudge was jumping up and down and happy as
anyone finding there voice could be. Cotton spoke
and said words of wisdom to her little one.

"If at first you don't succeed, always try again,

"And you did and now your true voice has been set free,

The farm was so happy that the new addition had now
found what was lost, and all that was heard was a very
proud kitten singing to the top of her voice.

*"Meow, "Meow, Meow,
Ayeshah Jan 2014
You've come along during a time where I wasn't expecting,

wanting or needing a relationship.

Don't get me wrong I was on many sites, still talking it up

to those who'd seem genuinely interested,

yet I've as you now know, went through a lot of disappointments

with the opposite ***, from cheating, abuse, games,

lies and so much more,

well you now know, so no need for more details.

You've come at a time where & when I only needed a friend,

I should of been clear about that instead of continuing
late night conversations of whose ex's hurt who
the most & the things we'd do differently
"if " only(s)....

"If" only you'd come at a time where DBT- counseling,
was almost complete & these insecurity's
left by the lies,doubts, mistrust or broken down communications
from past experiences didn't have me questioning
every single word you say,
plus every one of your actions made.

I've been keeping to myself,
becoming a recluse,
but
from the
Mental Disorders handbook,
I'm listed as
a afflicting person since I've display
a person with a pervasive pattern of  social inhibition,
feelings of inadequacy, extreme sensitivity to negative evaluation,
with my avoidance of social interaction.

I'm afflicted with the disorder & I tend to describe me
as ill at ease, anxious, lonely, and generally feel unwanted
plus I fell I'm isolated from others.

I used to go out a lot,
I had a plethora of friends well very good acquaintances,
I've allowed exes to push me into giving them up & now
I find it hard to just open up, find it so difficult to trust.

My supposed best friend slept with my husband
and another of these so called best-friends lied to a few men
that could of become my man.

So women or man- I find it hard to be myself now round them,
round you it was easy to talk to laugh and be completely free,
but I should of told you, I wasn't ready for
late night trips to your home, showers or baths to relax me,
back rubs until you put me to sleep.

Wasn't ready for you and those powerful hugs,
the encouragements
or
pats on the back
for the countless hours studying & getting my 4.0
with all my college classes .

You're a friend well you were & still are,
I should of left it at that.
Should of...

I should of told you,
that I doubt I know what loves is
or 
 if I've ever really owned it, I think I've rented it- a time or so,
but to say that I've been truly loved?

Naw I doubt it,
been infatuated & lusted a lot but love?
again
Naw I doubt it...
You already know I ain't speaking of my children,
pets or family.

Well let us exclude
my mama
cause she's always said to me
"who could ever love you"?

Most of my life I've tried to fill in the blanks of "who"?
"who could ever love me"

I thought I knew, *
but in recent events plus theses last 15 years
I've notice those who came to say they loved me
showed me different & treated me so ugly!

You've come along during a time where I wasn't expecting,
wanting or needing a relationship.

Your friendship is comforting,
I guess I'm scared, worried of the unknown, all those
"ifs"
and what could be, but I'm afraid, worried-
I already said worried, so worried in fact I've sometimes
put space between us.

I'm so painfully bruised & scarred from inside plus out,
from the age of 6 to now that's 30 years of being  bruised & scarred.

This was pose to be a poem and now it's more like a letter,
You know like "Dear John" or to whom ever,
but the ever only person whose made me make sense of me
seems to be you.

Somehow your in this deeper than I think I am
I'm conflicted, confused,
even though you've yet to do what others have done to me
or what others have put me through.

Think I should say: what I've allowed them to do-
"sometimes"
I've allowed them to do.

I seem to NO- I know I make you pay for what they've done to me,
guess I shall say I've allowed them to do to me knowingly or not...
I'm so disappointed by life & all it's had to offer me,
I've known & at times unbeknown to myself
have taken it out on you,
on others too by staying out their lives...

I apologize, but I'm not sorry,
that to me is something I don't think
I could ever be...

Saying sorry for me means- I'm a sorry person,
flawed-
*YES,

*very much so, becoming a recluse ok
but to be "sorry"    no,
therefore I apologize.


Through  all the ******* and all the mess
you've supported me.


I'm screaming or yelling at you & you've accepted me,
from the nightmares, that wake me & you've heard
my siren crying yelps of despair,
you've held me tightly,
reassuring me it's just a dream that my ex's
along with my childhood/teen molesters plus them ******
can't harm me no more...


You've left the lights on since I'm afraid of the dark
walking me to my room and locking the house up tight,
even at times checking under my bed
see your comforting for me,
at 36 I should be ashamed, yet with you I finally feel free
feel a bit good about me & about you,
says a lot since for a while I've yet to feel ANYTHING!


You've come along during a time where I wasn't expecting,

wanting or needing a relationship.

But now that your
*here" can you please stay?



Always Me Ayeshah ®
Copyright 1977 - Present ©
K.A.C.L.N ©
All right reserved ®
Ayeshah Jan 2014
We're laying here  with pillows on the floor, like where in the Sahara or some other exotic place just- watching TV.

Hold me while you run your fingers through my hair, caress my face as you look down into my sober face,  a smile breaks and i cast my eyes downwards knowing I'm blushing  cause your looking at me with that tale tell look.

I flick through the channels pretending not to notice your left arms laying right on my breast, the weight of it is refreshing since your left arms underneath my right arm and you've encircled the top half me protectively in your embrace.

I like leaning back on your chest as we watch TV, going through the channels together but you allow me to hold the remote, we settle for a movie we both like, "The Grudge".

We're all into the movie & been watching for a long while, it's scary and I shirk so loud you hold me tight,  even though I've now jumped a tiny bit & cursed out the scary girl crawling around on the screen,

I've covered my eyes with my blanket, I peek out from the blanket and look up at you, your holding in a laugh which seems so hard for you to do.

Kissing my forehead and loosen up your grip, then say to me baby are you scared?

Naw like really?,  of course I am & duh I say, you finally burst out laughing , its beautiful like sweet baritone- like music.

You bend & kiss me,  the kiss, I guess goes on for what seems like hours, it's only been at most a minute,.
Baby,- is what you say to me and finally I open my eyes, your looking at me with that tale tell look.

We kiss some more as we start ******* each other, fast and swift we get right down to it, no  foreplay  just the kissing, you enter me and unbeknown to me I'm moist, ready.

Your moving deeply, I'm moving fast, like it's a race, your aims to take your time,  but I'm heated, I've been longing for you, so I make sure without saying a word that I end up on top.

I'm grinding my pelvis as we mesh together, allowing you to move in & out of me, I'm climaxing rapidly, I told you I've been longing for you.

****** You've stop me dead, cold, and I'm looking at yo *** like what the ****, you smile those bright teeth with those amazing lips spread wide showing off your kool-aid grin, then say to me relax baby & don't move.

I don't know how you've done it but I'm on my stomach in a flash, and you haven't even taken your **** out of me,  rather your moving so deep inside of me allowing the pleasure from before to come back in such a force,
that I ******* bit hard down on my lip, not intentionally, your moving fast now and smack me on my ***.

I'm moving with you as if I'm a dancer in a ***** shaking video,  as if I'm a **** star pro and your the main star, I've always wanted to ****.,

I'm moving faster now, we've matched each other stroke for stroke, so much so it's like where  racing to some imaginary finish line,

but you slow your pace, I wish I could- but I'm already climaxing and my body's doing it on it's own.

You intentionally move even deeper, to where I can feel you hitting my ******,

It's all my body needed,  I cry out so loudly, you pick up your pace and **** me so hard, so deep, your holding on to my hips and slamming your **** in & out,  out & in
with such force & so much friction, once more my body's reacting.

You pump so fast & all I can do is take it, while I *** again & again,  you've yet to,

but I can feel it coming, with each stroke, each ******,  I feel the thickness all nine inches of you swell up.

You growl out; Ahhhhhayeshahhh, I'm *******, and erupt, right behind you is my turn, guess you knew cause you never stop.

This is crazy cause all this started just from us

Watching TV.*

Always Me Ayeshah ®
Copyright 1990-Present ©
K.A.C.L.N ©
All right reserved ®
Yenson Mar 2019
Accept my pity, ye tormented souls unable to raise and dazzle
all I did was earn my keep and walked in sunshine from the soul
but
When men are full of envy they disparage everything,
whether it be good or bad.

Now I know some minds never grow and thrive only in envy
For Envy, like the worm, never runs but to the fairest fruit;
like a cunning bloodhound, it singles out the fattest deer in the flock.

These wretched starved toxic souls, only see a man with plenty
The flower which is single need not envy the thorns that are numerous.
I did not countenance that faces are pale because they lacked
just thought that was the Creator's work on days when brown
and yellow, swarty, ivory and tan paints ran out

I knew a lot hated this insipid opaque pale colouring, but at least
they have beautiful hair and lucky ones have pearly white teeth
but unbeknown to me, real envy resides in them and blinds them and makes it impossible for them to think clearly.

Oh dearie me, our pale brothers and sisters die inside their souls
And age so quickly, radiant in bloom one day, grey and wrinkled
in the morrow like a wilted rose devoid of water and light
Their pain and envy, their self-loathing, their insecurities ravages
Let age, not envy, draw wrinkles on thy cheeks, dear friends.

For you see, God's truth judges created things out of love,
and Satan's truth judges them out of envy and hatred.
Our envy always lasts longer than the happiness of those we envy.
If malice or envy were tangible and had a shape,
it would be the shape of a boomerang.

I fear not and now understand why you envy and hate me
I can appreciate the bile and venom for Fools may our scorn,
not envy, raise. For envy is a kind of praise.
Worth begets in base minds, envy; in great souls, emulation.





When people envy someone else, they want what that person possesses. As time passes, they develop hostile feelings towards that person, and eventually begin to hate that person because of their possessions and the unrequited desire to obtain those possessions.
There is perhaps no phenomenon which contains so much destructive feeling as moral indignation, which permits envy or hate to be acted out under the guise of virtue, the revolution of  thieves, liars and scumbags for'the greedy leech' who worked hard, paid his taxes and never took or stole from any one..
I looked out from a heart that hoped and saw a precious jewel
Unafraid of my gleaming leaves or the way I speak
With a heart unselfish and never cruel
Shining as in a dream
A light to seek

The air sprouted new leaves as time and space stood still
Touching these gleaming leaves of my own
What a heavenly gesture I could feel
Radiating from this jewel
Unbeknown

Clearly, in my sight, my pulse quickened at the view
As these leaves kissed my gleaming green
Such treasure I found in a jewel
When I looked out in hope
Unforeseen

Never again will I see my world the same as before
Because I saw a precious jewel
With air my leaves adore
A heart unselfish
Never cruel
Copyright *Neva Flores @2010
www.changefulstormpoetry.blogspot.com
www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/Changefulstorm
Ari Dec 2011
There is a cat at my window
I am still
ragdoll in its flooded mouth
arsonist in one sulfur eye
night in a silhouette
shadow without philosophy
syllable of jungle chill
be it alms seeker
spy
or courier
or smoke as a pirouette
all icicle and satin
black iris I see
blood beating its binary
pulsating lodestone
hanging from its ley line
like the lamp of an angler
when the sun is furthermost
and all gods are unbeknown
I am still
still
the cat sits at my window sill
Inspired by Syd Barret
st64 Sep 2013
Scrape flakes off the surface
Doesn't matter one whit, or two
No need to hide any unbidden thoughts
The mirror cannot see the back of your mind.*

1.
Come along and take my hand
Fear not the things which tempt you
Come a long way, why dither now?
Lest you lose your taste buds for good.

Let the tale unfold itself for you
And allow fate to break old sequence
So afraid to step outta that mould
To unravel said threads for a while...

2.
Must make you fully understand
Manic moon is on the searing wax again
Making fools slip on magic treachery
Is perdition really all that awaits?

So, please...lie on your side in the mirror
Look at the shapes I want to hold
Touch the petals I ache to crush
You're letting it go.. yes, getting so bold.

Pushing up against you, under your bra
Do you know no-one can see? Look at me.
Try and relax, come on.. please let go
Stop looking around, there's nobody there!

I watch your eyes as I do that thing
That which I tried before but failed
You were in tune with the moment
But found your hand a tad lively.

You let me do some things I want to do
Let my fingers drift around, over mound
I lift you over me, ever-so-slow
Your eyes rail at me, but make no sound.

3.
You kiss the dip below my busy-Apple
Make me collect your embraces in a deep frenzy
Lucid enough to realise, sad to say
That you sometimes end as abrupt as you please.

You tell me things, how I love lappin 'em all up
Your words enter and sit on a shelf in my mind
As on a throne, they beckon to parts of me
And play jolly games of hide-and-seek.

Yet I feel your agitation gripping at your insides
I try again to make you float away with me
But all around, even with eyes pressed shut
Whose critical faces do you see peering at you?

4.
No, the looking glass reflects not the truth
Like a fish pulled backwards, desire drowns thus
Rudely suffocated by refined conflicts
Usurped by typical ideals set impossibly high.

Twisting in my arms, you try to wriggle out
Why, pray tell.. are you fighting me so?
Super-quick, you're on your feet. What the hell... ?
You can be so utterly fierce in your defense!

5.
I am so attracted to you; yet must I depart hence?
You thwart us at every perfect turn, slit us
You clog beautiful efforts at unity
Placing a huge drain on our collective energy.

So, while the mirror may appear a tranquil lake
No-one does see the turmoil swirling below, down
Hard to hide that inescapable spiral of reality
Cannot sustain that persistent eddy, 'tis all done.

Unbeknown to us both, playing at life thus
Nothing new to humanity, yet so petrified
While taking everything so serioso, we forget
Joke's on us: no-one gets out here alive, ******!



Yes, all that remains in the wake of dying embers
Would be those very flakes you tried to dismiss
See? Told you, no need. Came down all its own
And the mirror still cannot see the back of your mind.





S T - 23 sept 2013
pondering what to do with displaced-energy..


sub: smash it

smash it all to blazes!
dreams are mere tricks.. it seems
hope-smasher / dream-trasher / heart-dasher

look in my eyes, please  - i'm down on bended knee
please -
would you try 2 'see the light'..

catch you in a dream, baby!


wot-a-crasssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.......................
Bredon Hill

by A. E. Houseman

In summertime on Bredon
  The bells they sound so clear;
Round both the shires they ring them
  In steeples far and near,
  A happy noise to hear.

Here of a Sunday morning
  My love and I would lie,
And see the coloured counties,
  And here the larks so high
  About us in the sky.

The bells would ring to call her
  In valleys miles away;
'Come all to church, good people;
  Good people come and pray.'
  But here my love would stay.

And I would turn and answer
  Among the springing thyme,
'Oh peal upon our wedding,
  And we will hear the chime,
  And come to church on time.'

But when the snows at Christmas
  On Bredon top were strown,
My love rose up so early
  And stole out unbeknown
  And went to church alone.

They tolled the one bell only,
  Groom there was none to see,
The mourners followed after,
  And so to church went she,
  And would not wait for me.

The bells they sound on Bredon,
  And still the steeples hum,
'Come all to church, good people'--
  Oh, noisy bells be dumb;
  I hear you, I will come.
A glass heart and thrown stones,

You fractured mine
but I am whole and alone.

The first loss I loved to the bone.
I don't blame you.
Sally Apr 2014
I have been made a fool.
Yet I make no effort
To wipe off the paint that portrays me a clown.
With my shoulders hunched,
Eyes downcast,
I have all but given up
On the things that should be worth fighting for.

Like the wise man said,
“Conscience does make cowards of us all.”
So there is nothing more for me to do
But make a slovenly attempt
At keeping up with this thing we must endure
Called life.
A raw moment.
Ayeshah Feb 2010
I listen for so long at what
TV, Radio & what other people said.
Advertisements, Magazines,
Books on how to loose weight,
Other ways & things to make myself look
pretty.  Pity-Petty me,
Trying to dress like
Celebrities,
Trying so **** hard to fit in & be like those
Models & some of them one hit wonders...
even starting to think there
was something wrong with my skin.
Too dark for many
and yet I have this red hue kind of glow,
White teeth but so UN perfect to me.
Hour glass shape I hated it,
Big strong thighs that just didn't look right,
Truth be told for a while I used to like me
until I started becoming self-sabotaging .
Thinking I could get him or just be happy doing
what all the other girls & women did,
Oh how I wanted to be anyone else
other than myself.
Long curly- unruly hair,
***** some would say
but back then
I'd have it no other way,
Afro puffs, braids,
beads,
Styles that made people question me.
Relaxing, burning&straighting; my hair
To look like Halley Berry  
How she looked in that movie
QUEEN.
I guess.
Making me feel so unPretty,
You sorry lil freak in
the mirror looking right back at me,
My grapefruits sit high-up on myself,  
They perk up and smile at me
in my state of  undress,
Some where some how along the way
I started hating them & their shape,
Wanted bigger even though I'm  38C.
Why? I really don't know...
I guess it all started
way back when;
I was just blooming
into a young lady,
Finding ones self.,
When I started to hate being me;
Foster father told me
I need to eat less,
Only Black/Puerto Rican
with dark skin in
a all White School.
Went onto visit family during this time
and got picked on
at home because
most of my families skins was so light,
Abusive relationships unbeknown at the time
had me feeling like I could never get it right,
Doing what ever "He" He  "Him" liked,
which is also what
helped take away any concept of self.
Went through the toughest 15 yrs of my life,
Married young to a
Man whose opinion
matter more then Mines.
Finally hit 23, Divorced & Free,
A light came on bright as the Sun...
I had to figure out who
I was when everyone told me
I was Ugly,Worthless & Dumb.
See eventually you reach that exhaustion.  
You take a really good look in the mirror,
Seeing me for me what hard facing reality...
I have almond shaped cat like eyes,
Brown hair with auburn highlights,
Full lips that most people pay to have
and I ain't never had to inject rat poison
into any parts of my FAT,
It's at this point where
I had to decide at this crossroad
which route I'd take.
Most would choose defeat but I had my little girls,
I couldn't accept them ever looking
at me as someone who gave up.
I had to figure out how to love myself  all over again
Be comfortable with who I am.
It takes many a lifetime sometimes to
finally come to this conclusion.
But for others like me,
It's really like building or rebuilding a puzzle,
The Puzzle Of You!
Always Me Ayeshah
Copyright © Ayeshah K.C.L.N 1977-Present YEAR(s)
All right reserved
Sweet warmth rains down after the dew of first light
Here with you, I am silently alone
The love which guided us all through our night
Allowed our sun to arrive
Quietly, unbeknown

Flickers of tenderness mesh with the drying of dew
On a story that is ending to soon
Yet, I smile in the knowing, again, I will hold you
Tonight, under the face
Of our moon

I slip softly to our window to drink in the rays
Feel your presence, next to my own
We smile in the sweet warmth felt in a new day
Yet cannot wait, for this light
To be gone
Copyright *Neva Flores @2010
www.changefulstorm.blogspot.com
www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/Changefulstorm
The steps to the museum are many ,
Won’t you help me up the stairs ?
There’s a program with every item ,
every ***** of me .
Up the steps through the open door ,
how many rooms are here ?

Now a chair stands all alone with no pictures on the wall ,
In the middle of a room ,
my heart lies behind that glass ,
a Spector ,
a ghost behind a wall .

Won’t you see how  this blood runs from traitors gate ,
with
bread that’s long gone stale,
for judgement falls and my axe draws nigh ,
from deaths daughter must I fly ,
her lips are near ,
her crimson touch
not that I should dwell ,
Never a traitor ,



nor a Herotic
not i ,
Should ever be ?

If my head said yes and my heart said no then is there a life for me ?
What foolish thoughts my mind portraid
that were   my very own ,
a complex web unbeknown could that stranger now be ?

The words are so beautiful and their truth no heart can see ,
and yet my heart with holy spirits and angels with keys surrounded me .
How my dreams go back to that same old place  how sweet the’re
sorrows tell ,
of fields of bluebells and butterflies,
and all will be well .

I walk into the sun ,
then the sun hides behind a cloud and my world goes dim ,
no Light my heart has fled to a thousand differant things .

Here I sit ,
My heart on display
a traitor a heretic ? ask my heart not me .
His hand gripped her hair
Jerking her head back
Which caused a sharp gasp to escape
Full ruby lips now parted
Raging seas looked up
Meeting his explosive amber eyes

Her heart pounded like nothing she had felt before
It was like he knew it as well
The arrogance
She was breathing most shallow
Trying to compose her reactions to this man

His hand wrapped into the luxuriously thick mane of flame
Curling and pulling hard once again
This time a loud cry escaped
His lips crushed to hers catching the yell into his mouth
Exilerating to catch a womans cries, gasps, and groans of passion

Her cheeks suffused red
Heart hammered like it was coming out of her chest
Her lips returned the hard pressure
Almost begging for more
Being pull full against his strong form
She absorbed all of him

His manhood was hard and pressing against her pelvis
The familiar tingle was multiplied to an out of control volcanic reaction
How?  How could he elicit this from her?
His lips ***** hers but she returned it with ardor

His own heart was hammering in his head
He could feel the heat culminating at her love triangle
God it was magnificent
He never knew a woman could feel this much fire for a man
Tales were always told, but yet had never been felt

Bodies snaked together
Both panting as the fire consumed them
Anyone watching might actually see flames surrounding them
If they knew what to look for and payed close attention

Tongues swam over and under one another
Hands began to roam
Instinct caused her to begin to pull away
Yet another yank upon the fiery locks
His hand cupping the full breast
His thumb sliding over the ******

Even through clothing it quelled her flight
She responded in turn opening to him like a Stargazer Lilly
More was panted out as long fingers began to pull at his coat
Then his buttons on the shirt, revealing well toned pecks to soft hands
It wasn't enough, is it ever?

This woman was amazing, the way she responded was incredible
There was no stopping, no way it was past that point of reason
Brain exploding in myriads of scalding colors
Shrugging out of his coat, shirt, and laying the coat upon the ground
No bed would christen this event

Past caring, not even a scream when the expensive shirt was ripped
Revealing the creamy bodice with large orbs of flesh enslaved to the material
Reasoning was gone, a knife shined brilliant under the full moon
The lace garment was slit and removed, He had to release the hair to do so
It was not long before his fist was buried deep in the locks pulling tightly

Finally the moon shined down upon bodies of bare flesh
Chill bumps rose upon each of them from the chill of the night
Yet the fire that consumed them put everything else as oblivious

She didn't know how things had gotten this far
Was not sure if she really cared
Once his hands were stroking the ivory flesh
All thoughts of propriety, sin, and trouble were replaced
Passion, need, ecstasy, lust, heat, filled both their minds

As one hand seemed to stroke the flesh to light a fire
His mouth was feeding the flame
Teeth suddenly sinking around the swollen rosebud
A scream of pleasure followed by hips lifting and pushing against his pelvis
This further incited his own ire for her flesh

His bit hard, suckled and licked each spot where this occured
Her fingers pinched and pulled wherever they could
Body writhing beneath his as the fire was becoming an inferno
After about an hour of traded bites, scratches, suckles and licks
His staff was finally engulfed by the tight hot well that made him have to stop

Lying there a moment whispering "Don't move, god don't move"
Unbeknown to her the tunnel spasmed undoing him
His body began to move at a fast and furious pace
Paying no attention, at the time not noticing her pace was just as quick
Soft delicate hands splayed his chest as ivory teeth bit hard into the flesh

Slick walls caressed his long hard length as they contracted, spasmed
Opening more to take him even deeper, legs lifting high to rest feet over shoulders
Pummeling harder, the juices could be heard between them
Moans, groans, cries of pleasure echoed in the night

Suddenly he felt a difference in her,
Her body began to move up to meet him harder
Panting, crying out, louder, cries of yes, oh god yes harder
Filled the night air
He felt the tunnel tighten down on his shaft so tight he couldn't push forward

Her scream pierced the night air
Body pushing up hard against his shaft held tight within her ***
Fluids gushed forward as the walls loosened and he slammed forth again
As the ripples caressed him it was all over with
His own Ugh!!!! filled the night air as his rod spilled forth the tremendous load
The two fluids mingling together soaking them both

Lips finding each other once again
Swollen, sore, and bruised mattered not
Moving inside her deeply a few more times
They lay beneath the only witness to this incredible night
The large full moon peeking down low in the sky

If anyone were to see their bodies they would think they had been beaten
Bruises everywhere from the bites and pinches
Kissing once again, they laughed and then laughed louder
As they perused one another's flesh they wondered how they would explain
Their battered but satiated bodies.

Pulling her coat over them they drifted off to sleep
Each dreaming of the other
The fire's heat having nothing on what their bodies had shown them


Dedicated to those who have never felt this before with the hope it happens to you one day.


Written by Jennifer Humphrey aka Niyahlove
All rights reserved.  Please do not reproduce for any other site without my permission..
Sia Jane Apr 2015
Unbeknown to her, she was the other daughter.
The clairvoyant said she was born of water.

“Your beauty is your saving grace,
for so admired is your cherub-face.”

“My dear child, hold my hand close to you,
& see here, a young girl; veiled in black.
Worshipping the moon, beside a wolf pack.”

“For you, are celebrating a Lunar New Year,
requesting the spirits, my dear
beholding the Universe in the palm
of your hands. In the shadows, a silhouette
is walking towards you; a woman of a quintet.”

"You hear the piercing tone of a shawm,
a choir of voices & women barefooted
whose anklets ****** as a ritual dance
begins. But you stay. A statuette in stance."


© Sia Jane
Written in the form of David Lehman, "The Matador of Metaphor" - 16 lines and the same rhyme scheme.
Andrew Fieler Apr 2014
I saw a boy who was sitting alone.
Tears flowing like the river of Rhone
I went over, his sadness to me unbeknown,
He looked up muttering, "why do they not condone?

I am a normal person, just like you.
Born in the image of God, from my mothers womb too,
Two eyes, a nose, skin of the same hue.
So why to them am I the stomach flu?

They hate me, they want me gone,
Ha, as if I'm not already withdrawn.
They say I'm not normal, I'm sinful and so on,
But I don't listen, I just press on.

You see, this I never became,
Yet I am the target of their aim.
How can I be so different by loving the same?
God made me this way, so why am I the blame?
All I give is love, yet all I receive is shame."

I gave the boy a hug and said, "Don't accept blame, and don't feel shame. Embrace your name."
A Thomas Hawkins Jul 2010
I cast my hat, into the ring
so full of fearful doubt
expecting you, to pick it up
and simply toss it out
But unbeknown to me
hidden there behind your eyes
was a secret hope and longing
that it might just be your size
So casually you picked it up
and looked it up and down
I was expecting any minute
'pon your face to see a frown
You brushed it off so thoroughly
cleaned every little bit
closed your eyes then put it on
and smiled as it fit
Almost instinctively you opened them
and were looking right at me
My surprise and expectation
must have been plain for all to see
You casually walked over
and whispered in my ear
"but its always been you silly,
now lets get out of here"
And so my friends thats how it was
that I came to lose my hat
and why you see me grinning now
like a hatless Cheshire cat.
Poetic T Jun 2016
We were frolicking through the streets, amusing ourselves
with what was noting less than bliss.

"Points mean prizes my friends,

"Knock the door go on,
"You do it man,

As they walk up to the door one is smiling the other of a
nervous disposition, "relax man,  they discuss the doorbell
or the policeman knock?
The knock is better louder of course attention grabbing
but then other neighbours will hear its echo and curiosity
will awaken them to phones and regrettably police.

The door bell is rang, but not a murmur so repeatedly
they tap it until luminosity awakens and words of
profanity dripped out like a leaky tap. "Dam,
Looking at each other, as hallway lights emerged and
footsteps danced down the stairs a melody of F's P's
and a kaleidoscope of others painted the air.

If I had a swear jar on this house I 'd be a rich man,
as he unlocks the many bolts. "Not a trusting man I see,
The door takes an age to open as we wait eagerly and
then he grinds it open slower than a snail in a race
with a bullet we start to get frustrated.

"Foot meet door, door meet foot,

As the door releases back and the chain is deprived of
its clasping the gentlemen is thrown back not with a
racket but more like slow motion. Then he hits the floor
Like china thrown from a fourth storey balcony.
Then there is silence, "Check his pulse man,
As one of them linger over him listening to what
ever sign of life is left and then like he was reanimated
from the dead he lunges forward and grabs a clump of
hair. One laughs while the other one screams in a girly
kind of shrike. Composing himself quickly, one swift
five knuckle plant and again the gentlemen is out cold.

"You scream like a girl man,
"Did you see that, it was like one of those zombie flicks,
"Ye right, your just a wetter ma man,

As they stood over the man, now joined by his hysterical wife.
Luckily they always carried a roll of duck tape, you never know
when this will come in handy. As the other wrapped it tightly
around her thin lined lips, and the storm became a drizzle of
crying murmurers. Looking at each other knowing that this only
works in the dark they thought of ways to awaken the sleeping
beauty?

"I'll punch him, "Really that got us here in the first place,
Pondering on thoughts one skipped into the adjacent room,
"Dude what are you six,  A silence of embarrassment lingered
as into the kitchen he rummaged through the cupboards like a
homeless dog in the litter bin. Looking in the fridge he found
what was needed.
"What ya going to do rub it under his nose that kipper stinks,
"Some thing like that,

He unwraps it gagging at the odour that perforates the air,
"How can you eat this it smells like a prostitutes well used bits,
The woman smirks in a half terrorized quarter amused mumble.
As he nears his prey fish wrapped in a hand towel, whiffing it
below his nostrils. This isn't working the thought, "F#ck it,
Raising his arm up in the air he slaps the unconscious gent clear
in the chops. He stutters awake in confusion wandering what
was happening then in realization he speaks in ferocity.

"What the hell you doing my house, violating our residency,

"Now that's we like the feisty ones,

An edged smile greets the bound hostages, then the rules are
read out, "Are we listening, the untapped swear tin is about
to release a tirade of profanity on both so they bind his mouth
with what is needed (Shut Um Up Duck Tape) [tm] then silence
is blessed on there ears and they begin quickly to explain the
happenings they find themselves in.

"Why you slumbered we went through your thinks,
"Madam that was quiet a section we found in the bedroom,
"Sir are we on the limp list, there are tablets for that,

"Rules stick to them and maybe you'll survive,
"Not and a lot of bad things can happen,

1. Try to alert anyone they and you die.
2. If you try to escape we have family members addresses
we will hunt them and end them with no hesitation.
3. Have fun as your life depends on it, be imaginative.
4. We have rid the house of any and all knives and blades
5. creativity is the master of invention, you understand.

As the old guy rumbles on trying to speak, he un-tapes
his mouth and listens to his frustrated rabbling's.


"How we know you'll not just **** us,
"This isn't our first or 26th no 27th in fact rodeo.
"There were six of us unfortunately there have been
winners and losers on both sides,

"We are but three lonely shepherds now,
"Three I only see two?
"Our friend is outside guarding the entertainment value
of this diverting fun tonight,


And then without words he said two his playthings,
"You have to the count of 100 to hide to do what must be done
make your peace fight or die its your choice,


They untapped there mouths as to not be muffled of sound
easier to hear on the ear if there crying in fear, and with that
the gentleman gives a capture a five knuckle tap.

"Good shot, and good on you, now run dead man walking,

They both scarpered hand in hand, love will **** you the
other man thought as he watched them run like rabbits.
1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10.................100,
You wouldn't believe it but a hundred seconds takes
quite a long time in the aspect of what were doing.

They at first play games as stomping upon the laminated floor,
so many had ran when they had done this, Idiots. but these
two never flinched, hats off to there courage. Then tactic No2,
we know where you are, were going to come to play with your
insides with our loving blades they like to penetrate you deeply.

As wandering feet did walk on the cold floor they heard the
scurrying of ill footsteps, "we have a rat scampering beneath
our very feet,
Both with smiles lingered on the basement footsteps
and slowly descended as what was waiting clambered around in
aimless wondering. Both thought it was the lonely cowering wife.
Not as once thought as the swear box in the darkness gave birth
to profanities and in the midst of our arrival he was weeping like
a new born child. Our knifes were his voice as blood silenced it.

We wiped the memories of his last lingering moments from
the existence of his blade, this fool thought he had strength but
in the end it bled out faster than others before him.
But wait a moment what about the one that blubbered her
fear in a cascade of tears where was she hiding?
"I can smell your fear it sweetens the air,
Both separated to find and cull the last of this herd.

"Please don't hurt me,
"I'm all alone,

He snuck through the hall way hearing here speech in the
darkened bedroom. His knife drawn, to plunge into its
awaiting pray. heading towards the cupboard he thinks
the prey is getting easier these days. "Found you, as
he opens it wide to find a tape recording on repeated play
and a note saying heel *****.... A confused look on his face
till blood seeped silently down his face. In rage he swipes
missing her by millimetres, then she says one final word.
"These are $500 shoes, and gouges it deeply into his throat.

Screaming in gargled silence, his last sight was her giving him
the finger and her foot gently crushing his throat. She got her
manicured fingers and gently grabbed her neck, cracking the
stress out with each crunch.
"There were three little pigs now there are two...
"Oink, Oink, she giggled in nervous thought.

He stood on the stairs shouting in a lulled voice his partners
name, but with no echo of voices he knew that the game was a
foot and another of his clan had paid the ultimate price.
So the husband with all his voice was a lamb to the slaughter
but the wife, the quiet ones are always the ones to look out for.

He was more cautious now that only the two of them breathed,
they were both the prey but who would be the winner of this contest?
he looked upon the box emptied earlier in haste, the gun?
looking inside a note was penned in scribbled in quickened haste.
"If your reading this well done you found only one of my guns,
"BANG,

He jumped back in embarrassment, he looked around in case the
other was lingering in silence behind him. But no one was there
to his pride and ego he sighed out loud. now was the time to seek
the prize, the hunt was needed as in the next room he found the
still warm but deceased comrade with the heel still in his neck.
"That is so not your colour my man,
He thought there isn't many places to hide in this house, yes it
was larger than the pervious ones but that was half the fun or
was It half there down fall?

She crept within the walls this house was of the cotton days,
hiding those needing escape, through the mirror she saw him
wanting nothing more than to end his life.. but she had no
weapon, or was that a false thought as there were the old swords
Sitting ideal in the loft. They were still sharp as she had found out
not but a few months ago. Paper cut my ****... it needed six stitches
but that had now healed as she subconsciously ****** her finger.

He was getting agitated at the aspect that he maybe next,
but brushing aside that thought he went into the mode of hunter,
seeing if odours of perfume lingered in the air but noting greeted
senses except the smell of blood festering on the air.

"Come out and play I haven't got all night to linger in this place,

She could hear fear in his voice he tried to hide it beneath his manly
fasard that was crumbling like a weather worn cliff on the presapace
of collapse. She was a very varied woman that they didn't know,
fear had collapsed her in the first moments but now that had faded
like a sunset, she was a ventriloquist by trade in her youth quite the
entertainer. But she was retired and welcomed the rest, but no time
was there to catch a breath let alone to breathe.

He was starting to think, he should count his loses and leave.
then he heard voices but not from one spot but other places in
the house. Unbeknown to him there was an intercom system
and she was throwing her voices though out the house.
"Who is that , what do you want, How could there be more
than one? There was only two he thought, were  they wrong when
they entered this house? A lone wolf that needed the blood before
his blood was spilt.

She was happy that she took out one with her skills, now it was
the other two players turns she was going to quarter back slap the
hell out of this final invader of her sanity. But how could she play
him? Her husband was dead, she knew that for a fact they were bragging it through out there gloating verses. This was her moment
to show who the wolf was and that they were the sheep herded to
the optimistic place of the final ****, her or them.

She saw him silent and still, she had never seen him this weak, but
this was his chance to save her skin, she found fishing wire, and a
pardon the pun, a broom you know where that went to keep him
stable and up right. The intercom crackled she played his voice
over and over again she used to drive him crazy with he
impersonations of him, it always brought a laugh but the were silent now.

"Come on think I'm dead you cant **** anger you child of
pathetic consequence,
  

He feverishly thought of moments past was he dead?
they had gutted him like a fish, how could this be.
Phoning the cover outside he said this was his play and
if It ended he was exiting stage left. One final voice spoke
that he knew the rules if he was to exit then he was to end
his existence, there were rules for a reason.

She was had it planned the recorder the fish wire and that broom,
saying her apologies to her dearly departed but it wasn't anything
strange those toys upstairs weren't only hers you know.
Calling over the intercom, "Lets party you, swear box was
blessed with over a hundred coins the tirade of vocal words she
expelled on the air waves. He recognized that expel of vocabulary
as that person he ended not so few hours ago and confusion ignited
on his features to what the hell was going on in this place.

Stepping in palpitating haste he descended in slow motion, not
with the vigour of what was replayed earlier in the night.
"I killed you once old man I'll do it again,
But fear was expelled this time not courage of the **** like before,
He took played his fingers on the wall to find the switch.
No longer did it enlighten the surroundings, he was in darkness,
and then before him he stood, but he cant stand he had gutted him
and no one comes back from that.

"Who says I'm dead, your just a poor excuse for a mummies boy
go on cry ya little...,


Then in haste he lunged at the oldd man, not thinking straight.
fear and anger eclipsed ratinal thought as he sang his blade into
his skull. Cold eyes stared back, then he realized It was a trap,
He felt it but it was not as he thought he would have felt his
skin screamed out in tears of crimson. A sword was visual
through the front and back of his own self. He swore at her
knowing his time was moments away. she spoke from the dark,

"Its not this that's going to **** you, remember what you found
in the bedroom,


"Oh come on lady just plunge the blade in again I cant move,

But she didn't listen  as she bludgeoned his face with it, different features greeted with each impact till his features were just blooded and
he no longer moved anymore. Her face was a collage of blood from
those she had ended, holding her husband in her arms stroking his
remaining hair. Kissing him on the head she gently put him down.
Opening the porch door she spoke out, "I have ended this playtime
I am the queen of this house, the others are still, static you going to
end me now?

"Rules are rules I'm sorry but I must leave you now,
"Congratulations for winning your life,
"Sorry you lost whoever pasted in the game,
"Know if they had walked out they would have been dead,
"Rules are rules,

There was silence, then on the doorstep she rested her bloodied hands
on her knees and tears of fear, of courage poured out.
She was the winner of this even though she felt totally lost.
Sirens were heard in the distance and she just sat there still....
2684 words wholly poo... this is my longest most difficult write to date.. thanks to all who take the time to read it there maybe a few grammar mistakes but I`m so tired it took three days to write...
Prabhu Iyer May 2019
For her sundered from space and time
at the dawn of phenomenon,

not the little pettinesses of our world:

and
a portal to the unknown beyond -

the sky flaming red at dusk,
still in the lake the late summer hill
little a bloom in the bush hidden,
even shy a smile devoid of guile,

little every joy here;

Thought they,
faint of heart she was:
but every swoon carried her across
the world of the river of lights

In Her presence dawned on this
forlorn our earth -

Beauty since the beginning of time
exuberant in the hills
in the plumes and vales
and in the cruel hearts of men;

And grandeur, of the kind
unbeknown before, as the king
her father sewed up an empire vast;

And perfection in works
unknown before -
in every weave and hew;

All that men ascribed to her
father the great.
Jack Turner Sep 2010
I'm going back to the crossroads
This being the second time for a first time
And a first time truly participating in this day
Many times in those years gone and gone by
This has been a sad, forlorn day
Or it could have been the fact
That all of this confused me
I did not understand all that they felt
And why they felt and acted in their fashion
But now I have one of my own
I am beginning that learning curve
To understand what it all stands for
Two firsts in one day makes my head spin
And causes my stomach to reel
I am ready for it
I just don't now it yet

I'm going back to the crossroads
Even facing infinite objections from myself
I have to prove to the world that I can go...
No. Change that.
I have to prove it to myself.
I always enjoy a good challenge
But for reasons unbeknown to me
I have fought as valiantly as any gladiator
To avoid any sort of interaction
Such as the one I am about to embark upon
For no one else but me
And maybe for her as well
I head back that way
As I go down to the crossroads
John Holmes Apr 2015
A physician to me is what thou art
yet all of this is unbeknown to thee,
and if to prove all true where should I start
in truth to pay such an exquisite fee.
For upon none I call to intercede
for succour to cure such a sweet sick state
for no physician's counsel do I heed
as Eros stands by and scoffs at mine fate.
O, but to be with thee for just one hour
would ease mine fever'd brow and calm mine mind
for being in thy presence thou hast such pow'r
but when apart a paradox to find ⎯
it seems mine fate perforce I must endure
finding in thee my sickness and my cure.
From Selected Sonnets, iTunes iBookstore (free download).
the lone boatman Dec 2014
Herein lies the cycle of this existence. Replete with everyday banalities - placid and meaningless - the menials of survival give away almost suddenly, and I find myself plunged into the depths of an unperturbed silence... where a voice within resounds the Om. A rage drives me to divest all falsifications.. those sensuous pleasures and miserable burdens, insecurities and frustrations.. and all that exists/acts in a true sense of transience. I feel calm again - cleansed and breathless on the shores of this Reality. But alas!, the Silence fades.. slowly and steadily the noises of the world begin to seep in, like the first rays of sunshine after a long wintrous slumber.
Crests and troughs, this life of mine. A reckless indifference grips my heart; I exist, unbeknown of whether I am a benign Observer or the perverse Experiment, or evenly both.
topaz oreilly Nov 2012
You don't look a day older than bad manners
Remember to let people off the Train first.
Old fashion common sense has gone,
we are generating our everyday Cleopatra
where the private  is as imperative  as the  public persona ,
unbeknown nail polish is on a reconnaissance mission
for  blase solvent effects,
and as for Gentleman  I cannot think of a
suitable Mass observation survey yet,
but if i did,
there wouldn't be enough Stradivarius volins to avail.
Note too how bus drivers aren't generally slow
and bicyclists are veering militant
driving instructors take chances through the red  lights,
city life is
not necessarily construed as a public safety issue,
but everything  is considered less relevant
in the pursuit of balanced manners.
witnesses came again,
reminding the words are there,
black and white, the finger writ,

he said, in the beginning it was so.

then having spake moved on, with
language unbeknown. how did

they let it happen, the flood, how
did the house surrender. a holy

place. a place of conversation, stuff
of the age, no empire building here.

there was scarambled egg, and a cabinet
pudding waiting.

sbm.
Twinkle Jan 2015
Mesmerizing eyes anchor me to your soul
I loose myself in those translucent depths
I wonder if your lips were made for me
I wonder if your heart beats for me

When gently on your chest I lay my hand
I hear your heartbeat restrained
Thumping loudly, visibly tensed
Sensing if I'll ever guess

Strangers to unbeknown eyes
Your gaze I've held
How I would want to pretend
But you've deeply affected my rest

Words form freely, in the minds unrest
Silence seals my lips before my story unfolds
Scarcely breathing, surviving, the truth untold
Stranger I am to my own world

I don't want to be a stranger to this feeling
I don't want to be just a keeling
Never want to let you go, hold you to myself.
Bury myself in the depth of your vortex

You'll never understand
The reason of my restraint
Undelivered words and messages unsent
Hiding visibly in broad daylight
When your sweet voice I want to hear daily

The antithesis of my story is laughable
The dissonance of my utterances and intent
Perplexed and fraught between
To be or not to be
My struggle, my dichotomy
Paradoxical my situation
Fake my appearances seem
Inside I am dying my love
Dying for a simple truth from you!
Torn apart..judge me not
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
The words are bleeding out, and pooling into stagnant solace.

The drive-less inhibitions of roads ends, losing me in the after thoughts of my reflections now lost to oblivion.

The stillness is heavy.

Devoid of imagination, and wonder, i am null in the nothing.

Devoid of the spark that turned to fire, i am aware of nothing.

Focusing on nothing unfurling in the darkest of hours, accepting the timelessness, of my limited consciousness, drifting outside of self, through the fruitless branches of my destination unbeknown to me.

All roads leading into themselves.

The means, justifying the ends, as my eyes only but close in settled closure.

I am closer to god in knowing.

In knowing nothing within this dreamless sleep that i keep to myself.

The low humming encapsulating the causeless cyphers of thine own obscurity.

Blurred.

Wordless.

My words are worthless, as they collapse into non-existence, and erupt upon the other side in a foray of images unseen by unlooking ears that peered into the sounds of sights heard, but only once.

Written, but only once.

Forgotten, but only once.

The sun shone but once, and the grass grew over the sidewalk.
Steve Page Nov 2019
The man stood in his thick red coat and sore shiny feet, square in the threshold, charged with a ready welcome and ruddy face.

He stood with no name but the one assumed for him and, unbeknown to him, inherited from his predecessor who too stood in a similar red coat and sore shiny feet and with his own style of smile.

He stood until he fell one March morning, in his thick red coat and his sore shiny feet and with a heart that failed to live up to the responsibility that came with the threshold and the coat and the shiny feet and instead chose to take its rest.

The man stood in his thick red coat and sore shiny feet square in the threshold, charged with a duty to smile with an open face, with no name but the one assumed for him and, unbeknown to him, inherited from his predecessor.

And he stood.
And he smiled.
As charged.
With thoughts of London hotels and the retirement job my father sought.
betterdays May 2014
falderal and balderdash
two little imps,
of some small renown.

falderal is a skinny,scrawny slip of a thing.
all intelligent darkness, rootlike in nature.
all grasping and clinging hands and feet.

balderdash, well he is
as his name implies,
round and shiny.
far less than exceedingly bright.
stolid, and cat curious,
smile quite endearing,
but a sense of humor
to be fearing.

imps they are,
as already stated,
of the cadre of earthbound. they are to each,
the yingle to the yangle,
the left to the right,
the peanut butter to the jelly, the day to the night.

apprentice and journeymen they be,
falderal quick to rush through the ranks. balderdash on record,
for longest ever time,
at the start of the race.
they are attatched to the place,
the "rooms" if you will.
of the quacksalver,
come life's strife coach, buttinskimentor.
(he thought to modernise and appeal to a larger demographic spread of people).
the shingle over his eaves, pronounces his name to be, hi. p.r. condriac esq.
if you please.

one day it might be,
when you are feeling,
confused and perhaps,
a tad frail
you skim your junk mail, then, you may find his brightly hued pamphlet,
just skitters to the pile top
and with the dust of conviction spread over thick, and a little innoccuos doubt, another mind trick.
you stupidly think i might try this chap out!
his work sounds appealing, if somewhat radical,
i hope i get lucky
and he gets to revealing,
the source of the foot odour, the smell in my shoes.
that makes me think of hell, and regurgitated *****.

unbeknown to your goodself you have begun, a set of trials, a hopless spell,
a winding serpentine course of sysiphian tasks,
(at a kind and generous 10percent off)
to rid yourself of,
this unholy smell,
which really is,
if i am a secret to tell,
the *** of falderal
and of course the sweat of balderdash's shiny brow,
and places less mentionable,
applied with delighted relish and made to stick with medical grade super glue.

and so after months of debraiding your life,
a light switches on
and an epiphany occurs,
you become wise to these minions of strife
and garner up the courage to yell "
it is a sham and he, but a shylock"

you then wend your way back to the good doctors rooms.
i can garantee you he will not be there,
to listen to your plight,
with due care he has long since,
packed up his snake show, revved up his vespa
and into the night's cacophony,
he has driven,
with journey man falderal and apprentice balderdash, in tow,
clinging on tight,
to the rear mudguard.

he now has other fools in his sight.

as to the problem of the pongy shoes,
to be rid of the smell.
the answer so simple,
you will hear in your mind the loud ringing of bells. garbage the lot shoes,
socks as well.
walk the world barefoot.
you will not be mocked,
but you may find that people mention the words,
slightly eccentric,
when you come to mind

— The End —