"undesirability" poems - Hello Poetry

i remember the slow down the instant of undesirability to creativity didn't dare want him coming near me i'd hide praying for his rush to subside though i never looked to become Sarah and deliver him to my handmaiden rather that he'd remain backed up but in my bed all the same now i seek him out it's like my hormones have changed and i call to him requesting his blessing hoping even now that he would come minister to me i woo him with my scent dancing tantalizingly awaiting the moment he'll grip me at my hips be wind gently overpowering and blow in to probe and to penetrate to KNOW to relate with more than my core my totality and he'll never experience these waters running dry no only them running.

0

Feb 10, 2010

Feb 10, 2010 at 9:57 AM UTC

tia-christin-mitchell

HUNGRY

i remember the slow down the instant of undesirability to creativity didn't dare want him coming near me i'd hide praying for his rush to subside though i never looked to become Sarah and deliver him to my handmaiden rather that he'd remain backed up but in my bed all the same now i seek him out it's like my hormones have changed and i call to him requesting his blessing hoping even now that he would come minister to me i woo him with my scent dancing tantalizingly awaiting the moment he'll grip me at my hips be wind gently overpowering and blow in to probe and to penetrate to KNOW to relate with more than my core my totality and he'll never experience these waters running dry no only them running.

30

I ensnared myself in the inescapable business of not caring when the undying desperation of my heart reached a heaviness of fate that my weary wanderings were unable to withstand. Without second thought, I locked the doors and buried the rusty key deep inside of the abyss that lived inside of me, where even my own search is incapable of yielding discovery. Icy, stone walls now diligently keep under wraps my intolerable feelings of inadequacy and guard my outside excursions from the influence of any sense of care that may cause the perfectly manufactured wall of secrecy to crumble. I could knock or wiggle the doorknob, but all honesty reminds me that anything left that may answer inquiry would be an emotion to beyond undesirability to warrant acknowledgement. It is possible that I made the correct decision and maybe the fate of not feeling was truly the safest option left to me, but even with all longings of my heart oh so securely guarded, I can feel the heaviness of a desperate ache holding me to the ground. It may be under lock and key, but it is there, weighing me to this fate, ensnaring me in hopelessness, and keeping me from being truly free. I am weary from carrying all of this dead weight inside of me.

0

Nov 25, 2013

Nov 25, 2013 at 9:10 PM UTC

victoria-s

WEARY

I ensnared myself in the inescapable business of not caring when the undying desperation of my heart reached a heaviness of fate that my weary wanderings were unable to withstand. Without second thought, I locked the doors and buried the rusty key deep inside of the abyss that lived inside of me, where even my own search is incapable of yielding discovery. Icy, stone walls now diligently keep under wraps my intolerable feelings of inadequacy and guard my outside excursions from the influence of any sense of care that may cause the perfectly manufactured wall of secrecy to crumble. I could knock or wiggle the doorknob, but all honesty reminds me that anything left that may answer inquiry would be an emotion to beyond undesirability to warrant acknowledgement. It is possible that I made the correct decision and maybe the fate of not feeling was truly the safest option left to me, but even with all longings of my heart oh so securely guarded, I can feel the heaviness of a desperate ache holding me to the ground. It may be under lock and key, but it is there, weighing me to this fate, ensnaring me in hopelessness, and keeping me from being truly free. I am weary from carrying all of this dead weight inside of me.

10

*it's no wonder they called you ******* and not kenyars... you ******* quasi Nubian allocations of sub-Sahara; unlike Indian, the darker you are, the more aristocratic you become... west africans are peasant in comparison to east africans; which is why their women are so much more attractive,; that lushness of plump skin, skimming the sea, meeting while at the same time engrossing the moonshine in being mutually reflected; Rhodesian beauty will always outstrip a Nigerian ambition.* i'm starting to get worried about afro-american women these days, who don't know what dark choc east african beauty looks like... a sort of plump besuty that might make a white boy get a hard-on... west african women are paler, they have no aura of a darker skinned east african woman... they arouse reprisals of arrogance rather than appeal of libido... unlike the Hindus - darker esst african women are more desirable than the paler skinned west african: slave trade material gummy-mouth-off-bitches! with their castrated Herculean slam-dunk dummies worth of manhood. at least east african women are ball-dropping gorgeous compared to the west african mouthing off undesirability calibre of woman... seems it translates around the Greenwich bellybutton timing of reference.

0

Nov 27, 2017

Nov 27, 2017 at 10:45 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

when white boys gave a **** about doing a black girl

*it's no wonder they called you ******* and not kenyars... you ******* quasi Nubian allocations of sub-Sahara; unlike Indian, the darker you are, the more aristocratic you become... west africans are peasant in comparison to east africans; which is why their women are so much more attractive,; that lushness of plump skin, skimming the sea, meeting while at the same time engrossing the moonshine in being mutually reflected; Rhodesian beauty will always outstrip a Nigerian ambition.* i'm starting to get worried about afro-american women these days, who don't know what dark choc east african beauty looks like... a sort of plump besuty that might make a white boy get a hard-on... west african women are paler, they have no aura of a darker skinned east african woman... they arouse reprisals of arrogance rather than appeal of libido... unlike the Hindus - darker esst african women are more desirable than the paler skinned west african: slave trade material gummy-mouth-off-bitches! with their castrated Herculean slam-dunk dummies worth of manhood. at least east african women are ball-dropping gorgeous compared to the west african mouthing off undesirability calibre of woman... seems it translates around the Greenwich bellybutton timing of reference.

33