"undulated" poems
#
*This coup
A new nation
Loyal dedication
Its classification*
‘Species procreation’
Prevents us from facing
A human cessation
selective mutation
Gestation
Creation
It may help explaining
The reasons
Behaving
*But not the foundation
Or actions
We’re basing*
A simplification
is “continuation”
A checkbox
left vacant
*Fulfillment
We’re chasing*
We sweat
Eyes are gazing
A slight
palpitation
In need of hydration
Complete excitation
Without
hesitation
Intense stimulation
**Deep urges
Heart racing**
*Driven
By sensations*
**Unbounded fixation
Pelvic
Undulations
Clothing
Perforations
Time no longer wasting**
***This capitulation
a Sanctification
****** gyrations
Hint of ***********
The bedroom
Safe haven
For what
we are craving
*Once out
and displaying*
It all had been taken
Before
Feeling vacant
Freed imagination
A resuscitation
Indulged depravation
A rhythm
we’re setting
The giving and getting
**Destroying
the bedding**
All else I’m forgetting
Entwined
with each other
Like entangled netting
*Both
on the same trip
In a unified heading*
Now comes
the summation
A true
Revelation
Final
culmination
Smash all expectations
***Volcanic
eruption***
That lasts the duration
**Loud gasp
We unlock**
Filled with gratification
#
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 3:19 AM UTC
Umm, the presence and scent of a man
Magnetic attraction where his feet stands
His natural body charismatic aroma
Element of charms, seeping to awaken a woman out a sensual coma
Is it his eyes, the soul behind his life’s mysteries
Flirtation in his smile, tells me he has an undercover ****** history
It is his nose that smells out my charms
An enticing deep baritone voice, his spoken words, which turns me on
Is it the erratic heartbeat he has for a woman, his passionate relent
Stealing my breath, as he tenderly seals my lips in an impassioned moment of content
The strength in his biceps
His triceps
Strong, yet such comforting arms
An epitome of steel, circled around a woman in winter life’s storms
In the cold of night, his body providing your heated warmth
His chest, a hard pillow to tell your doubts, your uncertainties, your fears
Pulling you closer onto it, his reassuring words eradicating your tears
His intellectual mind to think as a man
A stimulating, slam bam and thank you ma’am, or your personal grand slam
His weakening love, taking your body beyond the stars
Woman from Venus, my handsome Man for Mars
His groin, and his family jewels from which it springs forth
Erected compass of his wand now pointing North
A woman’s reservation to tease, please, stroke, or allow it to choke
His loud murmurs shadowing your moans, echoing in the wind
**** I love the presence of men, and his undulated carnal sins
From the first taste of honey dipped Butter *** me
As his giving oral fixation is traveling free
Freeing the elixir of juices that deems to flee
His hairy legs as he stands to lift my weight
In the shower, no wait, as I anticipate
Hooking my twerking bait
His physique in general…Oh, God thank you
Without the scent of a man, we women would not know what to do
Your presence to a woman is our earthly food
Our je ne sais quoi for our every ****** mood
Rather you are standing, lying still, or upside down
The blissful 69 number conquered as we’re fooling around
My Dream Weaver
My distance heartbeat receiver
His dripping sweat
Droplets to my skin have been met
The presence and scent of a man holds me throughout the night as our eyes finally rest
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 10:00 AM UTC
I.
And my hair became too much
It overtook the walls
made its way into the office on the sixth floor
and then hung
like a dripping willow’s branches
over the desks
By the time they thought to find me
I’d already been wrapped up in a cocoon of brown hair
indistinguishable from the walls
that was now
also covered in the thick strands of undulated hair
II.
everything and everyone became consumed.
III.
In hairy chrysalis, the scissors uselessly
hung on some poor frantic pair of hands
forced into pupa
IV.
It was on the third day that the streets surrounding the corporate buildings were once again
populated with people, that a young woman in heels swore she heard a
faint choral singing coming from the 5th or 6th floor of a dreary grey building.
V.
everything cocooned
everyone consumed
all in pupa
VI.
During metamorphosis, a caterpillar digests itself leaving only behind imaginal discs
that shape it’s adult body.
everything becomes consumed.
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 12:05 PM UTC
We sat in the overlook above the Serpent Mound
in the heat of that garish July afternoon,
sunlight scorching our pallid skin,
like rays through a magnifying glass,
till we could endure no more and
sought the shroud of skyscraper elms ---
halfway houses of leaf, bark and cellulose.
Minutes before we'd signed our names in the visitors book,
like giddy high-schoolers autographing a yearbook,
recording our wayward lover's sojourn
to a site the Hopewell worshipped in celebration of existence.
For what purpose do we worship this ground?
I wondered as we walked beside the curving icon,
that undulated in rolled earthen coils down the slope,
sine-waves loosed from a colossal oscilloscope.
Are these coils symbolic of our future's meandering relationship?
Her exploring hand upon my ****
drew me from thought to evaluation of this unexpected caress.
But for the heat, I'd have shown her what idle foreplay begets!
*Great Serpent, this was not Eden's carnal karma
acted out in a second Genesis!* ---
though a symbolic egg spews from your mouth.
Mar 1, 2012
Mar 1, 2012 at 2:10 PM UTC
*And suddenly he finds this--
the season of strange happenings
befall upon him.In Bangkok rains lashed
for three consecutive days without stop.
Huge pythons with strange markings
undulated over waves, that were roads
three days before.A stranger to the town
he feared the fury of river Chao Phraya
but this girl took care of him well,
and when rain paused slightly
she suggested they should eat out.
He left it to her choice, though never knew
much about her, say he was careless.
In that dim-lit restaurant, she said
most unexpected things happen certain days,
and what she said was really true.
She ate his past wholly, so quick
when no one noticed, it was truly smart an operation.
It tastes exactly like Thai cuisine she told him, as if pleased,
full of aromatic leaves of herbs.
He just sat like a zombie, would he understand
the meaning of that sabotage, ever?
As she whispered her words in his ears,
he wanted to contradict, tell her about
coconut milk, pepper and condiments
in which his memories of past were marinated,
like his mom's incredible curries
of fish from Kerala coast.
She pretended she didn't hear
all his memories of spice coast,
she had tactically usurped.
Then a doubt creeped in to his mind
"Is she a banshee, after me?"
She persuaded him to take a stroll
along the bank of Chao Phraya in spate
None would believe him later
his eye witness account of the girl
who ate all his spice land past
jumped in to Chao Phraya turning in to a big fish
and disappeared, never to reappear.*
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 1:49 PM UTC
Two shades of blue, Two shades of blue
The endless Sky, a canvas painted with molten sapphire
He frittered those diamonds with no trace of frugality
The never-ending cerulean Ocean, big as your heart's desire
She undulated life, corals and sea shells, with a trace of salinity
Two shades of blue, Two shades of blue.
Two shades of blue, Two shades of blue
She is his diurnal curtain, as he opens his eye from his sleep
He is her coiffeur, as he colors her entwined hair in a shade of serenity
She is his narcissistic cheval glass, reassuring him every moment
That his swaying eyes and his murky silver mane are intact.
He is her tepid blanket, gifting her his warmth and millions of lives.
She is his lullaby, swinging him to sleep, wobbling him into a trance.
Two shades of blue, two shades of blue.
Two shades of blue, Two shades of blue
He is her, and she is him
He collects her brimming elation and gifts it to the world
She takes his sorrow, swallows his tears, until he returns to normalcy
Two shades of blue, two shades of blue
A pair of hues that will always remain estranged,
Arising to vehement debates on his excessive height versus her unfathomable depth.
They aren't parallel lines which never touch each other,
They are converging lines that will always strive to meet,
Stretching each other with all its might,
Illimitable and endless they may be, but without each other
They will remain infinite fractions forever
Two shades of blue, two shades of blue.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
From the moment I saw you
I was in love with you.
I watched as you floated around the room, like a butterfly collecting nectar, your eyes sparkled and glittered like thousands of facets off a diamond
As you moved, your hair undulated back and forth as if caught in a gentle ocean current
Your smile was magnificent, powerful, and awe inspiring, like the rising of the sun over a steamy exotic jungle
Across the room, you turned, our eyes met, and I felt a jolt, I had been harpooned through the heart. I could have fallen to my knees
I went from numb, stunned, to being on fire, with love and lust. I wanted you, wanted you so much. I could feel my primal urges and visceral needs rising and overwhelming me
I wanted to protect and provide for you, to build a house and hearth, to keep you safe and warm, a place to have and raise children, together
I wanted to hold you, feel you, in my arms, your head lying on my chest, snuggling, cuddling, purring like a newborn kitten
I wanted to look eternally in your crystal blue eyes, mesmerized at their depth and breath, like a endless desert sky
I wanted to kiss your lips, red, full, and moist like a rose on a French summer morn
You are a bijou, a jewel, like no other, rare, priceless, and precious, a gift to gods and men alike
I am grateful, for our brief, intense, and tumultuous love, like a shooting star across a darkening evening sky
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 1:56 PM UTC
The concave curvature
Of her crescent cheeks carried
Me back to the beginning
Of time, to the ground where
Love laid the very first pieces
Of her infinite foundation
To where the rock met the sea
At the distant shorelines of desire
Where the mighty waves of passion
Crash on the bedrock of solidarity
I, the small being, coupled with you,
Tapped into the endless well, throwing
Ourselves into eternity. The sky stretches
And is covered with the burning stars
Whose distant screams are the sonata
Of the oscillating sound waves of
The song we both share. You and I-
I was your ocean and you were my
Moon. Though your brilliant reflection
Undulated on the face of my violent waves
We could not touch, separated by light
Years through which time stretches and
Retracts and ultimately sums to zero
And yet here you are, my gentle breath
Is the soft wind in your valley, gently
Bending the stems of the magnificent flowers
That abound in your lush fields. Your vines
Wrap around my trunk as my heart pants
For you like the fawn after the cool brook
And is filled with the cool refreshment
That fills my veins. Your rivers flow into my
Seas and my seas empty into your streams
And we find ourselves here, in this cycle,
Realizing that the separation would
Be the sudden death of the both of us.
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 6:58 PM UTC
My dearest,
I will miss you
After the morning light takes you away.
But honesty bespeaks my boredom of
Nakedness on ******
Thrusting into you,
The screams of your pleasure-
It was satisfactory.
The soft scent of your spangled hair
As it ran playfully through my fingers
While I cradled your skull in my palm when
I caught the glitter of your smile as our bodies undulated
Through the oceans and across the galaxies
Where you dipped your toes into the cosmic pools
Before diving into the depths with me-
then,
I felt you quiver.
Of all the arrows in the world, yours only was
Precise and lethal to the bone;
Searing straight through my universe and
Pulling it apart
To reveal not darkness, but merely the absence of light.
In it, I was not afraid.
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 3:46 AM UTC
I still feel the sting of every string
on all my parts
my ankles still bare marks
I smile as my *** stings
A fond memory of so many things
whipped with pearls
til I whimpered
wanting you to take me just a little further
Ridges rolling on pinched nips
With a slow soft touch upon my lips
Undulated hip
That wicked giggle you love so much
just around the next touch
I go silent a moment then I sigh
before you know it I am up for air
I look up and give you that stare
You know it is not over
Before this is done
You will whip my *** again
til the pearls come undone
; )
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 10:51 AM UTC
There are still
people in the
World
With
Clean eyes
The people
Who have
A pleasant
Profile
Their pure
Scent is
Another simile
For goodness
I've lost my
Bronze shiny
Anchor
Therefore
Anaforas in
Before spring
Blossoms do
Afloat
Me and you
Are a rolling
Records
Cosily unbound
Wraped around
The ancient aquamarine
Amphoras
As the numinous, dire
Paragraphs of our lifes
Know also of the succulent
Sweetness. Inspiration.
And everything.
I am. You.
Omnipresent
We collide with marvels.
Rainbowy bubble plops.
The world is back again.
Trickeling over tenderly
Undulated membranes.
Also the eyelid seas.
United in the ephemeral,
Ever changing images.
Desire and goodness.
The day and those nights.
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 8:53 AM UTC
There's something about everything about nothing about how we were created, tiny blips in a system of "Nothing Even Matters" starring the worst producers in the universe. One could catch a glimpse of us as they pass by to get to somewhere better and laugh, and shake their heads and they would know our only purpose in existence was to make them feel better inside. But whoever writes a book in the view of the indifferent? Whoever directs a movie where nothing different happens? That's like asking who remembers the forgotten, it's possible but ever so unlikely, and sure as sine is undulated, under appreciated, somewhat very deflated, and though we aren't remembered, we sure aren't too terribly hated.
There's something about anything that could be distributed as significance in this underrated little beauty, flourished world that runs about full of life and clarity, streaming with disparity, slow depreciating, and sometimes we're defeating the purpose of why we're unique, and we slowly take the filters out of our little selfie, loosing all this isn't healthy, and we diminish all signs of any significance and we become as lifeless as a meteor, and I sometimes think "What is this for?" And then I simply sigh and take my sunglasses outside and stare into the sun, and wonder if anyone in the entire world has gotten off their iPhones or TVs and stared at the sun along with me.
There's something about how I feel when the little things get to me, like grades or dating drama, getting larger, more dramatic, oh it's such a ceaseless phlegmatic, and I sit at my stirring house and wonder how I can bear to live it anymore. But then I start to realise the person passing over is really staring us in the face and watching this world run in place. I'm not going to think about it anymore, it's all part of Earth's perpetual cycle, I'm not going to stop this utter nonsense now because it's time for me to go to my next class.
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 9:49 AM UTC
Lighthouse keeper by the shore, watching life pass he did the most
Eyeing ships, so bright and lively, that would sail near his post
'Til one fateful night one ship seemed to be set ablaze
Gravitating toward the sight that was a rarity in all his days
One door he swung open, leaving his beacon, bolting downstairs
Of peril and risk, he cared not; to him they seemed like minor fares
Fiery reflections undulated from afar as the keeper dashed to shore
Yanking his rowboat into the water, he paddled toward the source
Opening his eyes truly, he awoke to hands without a single oar
Under a guise he would man his post distractedly in the night
Realizing that the ship was a dream, he turned around to a fright
Precariously placed lanterns had fallen, shattering as he slept
And flames began to claim his home and post, as if collecting a debt
Sleep walking had moved him to the shore, by grace he was alive
The lighthouse keeper would rebuild, but this time he would thrive
Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 1:39 PM UTC
She was always the darkness's angel.
Pale moonlight envied her ivory skin.
Wild Zephyr delighted in playing with her untamed locks.
Today's the night- she thought
with a child like glee
hugging the stars
Pleasure mingling with ecstasy
she watched it
her pet scorpion
climbing... coursing
the smooth terrains
of her undulated skin
with the dazzled sheen
of a black pearl
With every breath
an anticipating eternity
...her moment finally arrived
as her pet stung her once...
...then twice as she had taught him to...
...on places that bled the most-HER HEART.
...then rushing to HIM-
-lurking in sins' dark shadows...
she locked her lips
tightly with his...
...till the
venom shrouding
...her soul faded...
...leaving her LIBERATED...
Sep 26, 2010
Sep 26, 2010 at 10:57 PM UTC
I hit play, Deng's's music was on repeat
The deep sultry voice sent soft echoes
Bouncing off everything into the street
Kemah smiled and laced her ballet shoes.
Kemah moved like a seductress in heat
Undulated her hips, moved to her feet
And she began to slow dance to the beat
Spinning like a flamingo on the street .
Deng nodded as she started to swing
There's really no dancer like Kemah
Her backside, rhythm, her everything
This was beyond contemporary Zomba .
I too wanted to rock to Deng's beat
Snapping my fingers, swaying at will
I just smiled and remained in my seat
But my old bones refused to sit still .
With Deng's latest hit song on repeat ,
Kemah's body swayed from place to place
Her entire soul intoned to his aesthetic beat
She was a temptress ,a girl with real grace .
Over where I sat in utter amazement
I felt humid looking at her silhouette
Suddenly I knew what Deng's song meant
For Kemah danced my soul beyond ballet .
Under the glow of the golden African sun
Her moves were flawless and unique
She danced like a young Doe on the run
Kemah was a star ,she was ballerina d'Afrique .
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 11:44 AM UTC
We walked two miles through July wheat fields
that undulated beneath Sunday morning sun
like golden swans.
The pond was glacier stone smooth, and canopied
by silver maple and swamp oak; willows lined
the banks.
Miriam unfastened her hair, tossed her blouse
over my shoulders, kicked her cut-offs
toward the boat’s bow,
and dove.
Sep 19, 2016
Sep 19, 2016 at 10:58 AM UTC
Dawn breaks
A periodic railroad these celestial beings follow
Ra never sleeps, not yet at least
Okay, maybe when Graham is reincarnated as many times as
his number
Whoa, zooming in:
Streets are full
Insect culture swarms below
High above, dominance prevails-
An undulated hegemony
Truth lies the elusive lie
So I shine my light as I hide beneath the sheets
Only to find that
an omnipresent truth calls for darkness
Maybe sooner
Or when preordained fate finds fit
I don't know, I probably will never know
But that's okay now
For I am the passive set of eyes
that sits by the slits of my sheets-
My window to the passing world
I am the inertia of daily meals
I strip my lunch naked and
I stare at the end of my fork before every bite
I guess that's what it means to just
sit back and enjoy the show
N.I
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 3:26 PM UTC
and you'd come up again
in our conversation,
a bit flustered
wandering through haystacks in June
what else did you want from me?
it's either this or that...
words shared yet lost
meaningless and obsolete
a hazy afternoon for two
i knew a child who built houses
out of pebbles and twigs
he glued them together with honeycombs
and called it love.
those inhibitions
he tore up and sealed
for another day
then one day the wind thought
to come around to tumble
the bees harpooning above him
hypnotizing stings,
the cries within him
undulated to the frequencies,
of bright peonies in the spring.
and I saw this,
twist I did,
to bend the story wayward
like the rivers without moons
peering inquisitively at me.
But they were only fictions
carved by ancestors and
ancestors past,
whichever way to get their point across
to hold my head in their arms.
it was
folklore I'd forgotten to let go
the impossible book held deep in my chest
the anomaly I'd refused to relent
the searching for paradise.
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 3:27 AM UTC
In the midst of a cold November night
tears falling from the dark in silence
not one sound piercing, or one single light.
blackness giving us nothing but utter pretense.
the misted air cloaked with contrite tapping the exposed souls of the night
rides along the cracked frost heave into the abyss of the wilted sense
guided by merely an undulated tone of right.
running from itself within its own defense.
'Twas the dawn of a bitter November light
and frozen tears irrigated days fence
no thing knew of the blackness in the night.
or the surroundings that shriveled its sense.
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 9:26 PM UTC
.
On winsome plains of dusted origin
Gods spoke: “Let fresh, sensate flesh
Incarnate, let questioner, move lost —
Come.” And in birth was live funeral,
Wrested body of spirit, seer of mercies.
In a story set to flame for children —
Old man poet writhed on a new cusp
Betwixt madness and old firmaments,
Where spinning globes set time adrift
And mankind undulated like sad song.
Hush poet would never know in sight,
That meaning shared time with industry
And all the buildings that vibrate are cold,
Where tall suits shimmer and music dies,
Death knows it’s place among the wreaths
For tall tales are sodden by rainy graves.
It is better after — that poet was shaper
Mostly in death, like shining Phoenix,
Like concrete angels haunting chapels,
Or mythical creatures populating fable
As ancient groves of tree reach skyward.
.
Jul 29, 2019
Jul 29, 2019 at 10:22 PM UTC
unwinded
untwisted
undulated
like a
neon boa constrictor
the river
crawled
back
into
the
thick sleepy Delta
from
the
mouth of
the
yellow
bamboo river
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 10:57 AM UTC
I loved you & everything about you,
the way you shimmered,
undulated,
twisted
& shook your ****
& every time you did it in public,
half the human race
was hypnotized.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 8:56 PM UTC
Once, when I was a teenager, I got drunk and high.
I was so crossfaded;
I saw the world in a Viper Room blurred haze.
I remember the people I was with.
My best friend, and some guys from school.
Everything was moving in slow motion,
frame
by frame
by frame.
I saw phantasms of my friends moving from one side of the room to the other,
their ethereal beings following behind them.
The high undulated every few minutes,
becoming so intense I could just see the waves forming before vanishing.
It was the middle of the night.
I had sat down on the couch next to the neighbor boy.
Touching was very intense.
The heat of his skin through his clothes
where our legs and elbows brushed flushed my cheeks amaranth.
I remember feeling euphoric,
perfectly content about where I was and what I was doing.
He laid his head on my shoulder,
falling out of the high like a wounded raven from the sky.
I was so warm.
I remember thinking I could stay on that couch,
letting this altered state of mind befall upon me in perpetuity.
Happy, forever.
Oct 31, 2019
Oct 31, 2019 at 12:48 PM UTC
An ethereal vision that visited me
Flew in to perspective from the rift
Upon the light of starry beams
A faerie queen began to drift
She spoke in tongues I did not recognize
They rung in tones of sonorous woe
Behind her cosmic fires undulated
Stars twinkling like celestial snow
A rainbow could not dim her eyes
No nightingale her soul
I sit enwrapt, enchanted
By her sombre siren call
Shrouded by an aura
She danced sprightly as a fawn
But then she winked and disappeared
The magic mood was gone
Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 3:24 PM UTC