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laura Jun 2018
i’m a bad baby, a wet pussycat
that does a whole lot of meowing
nobody left to blame, a goodbye loser

love me, hate me, be my bruiser
classy lady, i’m unruly you can tie me
up and school me just don’t try to save me

and i parted ways with bad friends
if tomorrow comes then what’s good
don’t be afraid to laugh at my expense
Ah.. shes here...I shuffle around the stalls... watching..out of the corners of my eyes.... she knows ....Intimacy...a hand on flank..careful..
.you'll break me....with your gentle hands..
..My hard mouth....your soft lips..
..unruly, unruled....old horse...a kiss.
.. Confused, ...stallion in name only.
... You whisper... My ears *****..
... forward..the hunt! ....your scent on..
..My bridle...I smell u still...
.. Calm...Comfort...Welcome...
.Gentled, not too gently....a strong hand.
. It grows trust …..truth...a Stallion! Once more.
Panting...pawing...'Be easy'..nervous eyes roll.
.a hand on the neck...a caress..'Gently '...you whisper,
.... hot breath against ear
… I snuffle and toss my head
…. still a bit frightened…..her power!
..Will you ride.? ! ..firm thighs and buttocks..
..Toes point... Heels dig...all Give and Take….
. Instruction to...from...the muscled beast.
..straddled. Awkward… too long without….
..A Rider … the matching... Gait with hip...
Walk-on.. Trot, pounding...Heels clip.
..faster, just a bit..Then smoothly they fit her to him.
...a canter.....this long stretch....rocking like one creature
….each a part of the other...breathing evenly…
...caught ….. Breath comes quick...bodies warm.
. Exertion...strength..trust.. Leaning forward..
knees grip..pulling...toes curl..in..
..hot breath..whisper in an ear… Now!
...hands grip mane... As they clench
… bit between the teeth...She..
...gives him his head... Finding his rhythm
…. home in sight...a last burst……
Rider/Stallion sweat soaked … blood pounding..There... againthe scent of her...Sweet Hay rising.
..she whispers… yes oh yes… I knew…
you had it in you.. In me...oh gods….YES! ! .
. No! not the pasture yet for you.. She chuckles..
.bodies tangled in sheets ….. Her mane of dark hair..
Scent of her fills him …
glad to be..Alive? Yes..head…. Heat…
heart...bursting…Not now… But soon.
. A gift.. This youth.. Who see's value in an old war horse.
..ridden.. but no more to war and blood..
.gentled, both he and she… sleep…bridled passion.
..her...a scent of sweet hay…
.him...an old spice..and gunpowder? ..mmm.
by Alexander K Hamilton
For my rescuer Bhudha. Run to the Bodi Tree
Smoke Scribe Apr 2018
Passover or Easter or Happy Any Ole Thing, Sam I Am

she
asks me good naturedly
which to wish me - a happy this or that
and a poem’s immaculate conception is instant arisen arising
hot ****

rueful smile and unruly reply
a solid out loud Ha!

neither either or he writes and so believes

for I am a god loving man,
whom we’ve -Him/It/Me have agreed
that I may call
Sam I Am
and the answer to your question is
why not

for most quests and questions can be well-answered
why not!

my genes my historical beings my ancestors and my issue
all declaiming that I am a jew who left egypt, no defaming, a slave to no man who cannot love another like his own self

but some in all that I write, this deity boss slips in quietly unseen in one of his jokes-on-us-disguises like singing ave maria

and thus whose to say
his rightful name, is not
Sam I Am

my choice and the big D
     (a self-employed informal his choice, nom-de-guerre)
has agreed via his acknowledgement in his normative style of
low volume taciturn tacit acceptance

so wish me a u happy
anything you want-to-call-it-day

don’t matter. but know this u were there
when, all on that happy day where, @ the manger,
when this Sam-Approved-Appeared
poem was born and Sam blessed it with a
hot ****!

she laughs, tosses back in my face, some schematic I
prior penned that I can’t recall the when or where or my
nom-de-guerre employed but fits this ex-slave perfectly

“there are no lines or lies in my writings
there are no definitions and
perception is only your truth”
happy
Yama Day Tinta Aug 2016
slowly
slowly are the days
          marked
one
   and one
      and one
so slowly and with no more fanfare.

     a dream
rogue and rotten
          lodged
and immovable.

the days bleed
     one into the next
          and on
               until time is not.
    
     unruly
     unworthy beginnings
   painted a needed
wanted
          unreal ending.

bottled
blasphemous the nights

where hands held
     hair and hips.

the loss
    both
grievous and expected.
Noel Billiter Jul 2018
Resisting your surrender
Like a passionate pretender
Cursing your existence
So unruly cant even believe it
Rehearsing until morning
For a ending to your story
Searching for a reason
Why you’re always out of season
Still wearing those ***** clothes
And swearing at the Her ghost
Living in your furry
Just makes things more blurry
Some drunken thrills
Followed by some healing pills
Staring at the mirror
Thinking it will look clearer

Resisting your departure
And what seems like constant torture
Insisting on the weather
To lead you somewhere farther
Counting on tomorrow
To release you from your sorrow
Leads you to forgiveness
Repenting all your sins and
Starting a new chapter
In this new world that you are  after
Living in the moment
Gives you quick atonement
Walking from the ashes
The past and what it’s taken
Your soul now unbroken from this spell
That had you been under
RK Mar 2018
If I had known before I'd decided to take on this task, into this labyrinth of a living hell, how it would have broken my heart.
Would I have attempted to?
It was too much for any soul to go through  such pain and torment.  The sages of the ages have forewarned, it is not for the faint hearted.  So many different strands, layers and knots to work through.

I didn't even know where to start.  I looked within as far as I could, to see how I ended up in this tangled web of confusion.

I  set about the work of separating, to untangle the different layers, down to the very root, to the core, the beginning.

The dark night of the soul took me on a journey, one I had created by my own stupidity and utter ignorance. I couldn't yet see the true cause for my sin for the light was dim.  There was still a long way to go to the centre.  
And it wasn't easy.

Friends and family couldn't understand how important it was for me to work through the tension.  My body soul and mind, torn asunder by the pressure I was under.  There was no rest, no relief. A labour of love was my reason.  At all costs I had to undo these awful unruly knots, to undo the damage done, to return to the original splender. I had created this unforgiving state where I now found myself. Not being aware of the difficulty I had gotten myself into.

It felt like treason.

Patience was the prerequisite to the success of this operation. Layer by unending layers it became easier. Loosening  out the knots with gentle care, a prayer, a desire to be; amidst all this work and frustration. To bring to an end this living nightmare of hell, suffering and endurance.

I knew it was hard for others to understand. Nothing could take me away from all these strands. To get back to where all the trouble started. Somehow a gentle peace entered, a stirring of gratitude, love and acceptence.

A surrendering---


Finally, and gratefully, I held the whole ball of beautiful soft green wool unblemished, in my hand, now back to its original beauty
Im knitting  for my grandchildren and one of the ***** of wool got so tangled, it ended up a living nightmare. I could have just left it, but somehow I felt the need to undo the tangles. It took me three days to work through. there were strands of wool stretched all over my kitchen . It's very rewarding to not give in, to persevere . Well I'm a bit like that you see.
So I took the start of the wool from the centre of the ball but made a huge mess of it.
Thank you for reading.
Peace
I am your necessity and unruly desire.
You know I am your Lungs worst enemy.
Still, you won't leave me.
Thanks for that.
One day I 'll be the reason for your one of the diseases.
And you are ok with it.
Campaigns being raised to stop me, but thanks
You ignore them.
I am disturbing the environment and you are the one helping me.
At last, I wish everyone can think like you and destroy the civilization entirely.
With love,
Your Cigarette.
Destiny Odeh Sep 2015
Osas, there's a certain darkness in me. I can't explain it, but I don't curse the darkness, because it's where we found each other. After I found you, I stopped searching for rainbows in the far reaches of the sky, you were my sunshine. You cast away my troubles and wrestled my demons.

You always said that being whole is overrated; it's the holes that make us beautiful. You made me feel beautiful. Even though the beautiful moments we once had are slowly fading, turning from vivid to grey. I can still feel your palm, gentle on my blushing cheek, stroking my hair, tucking every curly strand behind my ear. The same ear you'd whisper a bouquet of wonderful words into.

I am not a ******, I am not a viscous erupting volcano, I am not fire. I am the phoenix that rose out of the flames you lit. The same fire you came running into, but while trying to save me, you forgot to save yourself.

You were the erupting volcano. You were vicious and violent. You were a deadly collection of everything vile. You were hot and cold, you were yes and no. Did you even love me at all? I guess I will never really know.

I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry. I'm sorry I wrote that last paragraph. I know you loved me dearly. I'm only scraping for a reason to hate you; to cleanse my conscience. I feel so stupid right now. I can't stop crying. I can't stop thinking about that night. The error of my deed still haunts me. The least I can do is to keep writing you back to life, back into my arms.

I got 25 years; I'll be out of here just in time for menopause. I never cared much about having unruly, noisy, silly little babies running riot, leaving a trail of ****, puke and toy cars lying around. But I cared about you. Though the wonderful times we had is becoming a long lost distant memory, I still care about you.

We were of the same form, you and I. Passionately understanding each other's darkness. You knew how fragile my heart and mind was, yet you broke both. I was crazy in love with you, you took away the love and left me plain crazy.

I have lost myself. Maybe if I dig deeper, I'd discover an avalanche of emotions still buried in me. Sandwiched between my ice-cold heart and the poisonous blood coursing through my veins. The same veins I want to expose to the spirits in the wind, and as my blood pours on this cold concrete like leaves on a forest floor - I would be at peace. I hope to find peace in death, for death is not a pit but a ladder; an ascension to another realm. And in that realm I hope to find you, to explain to you why I did it - Why I pushed you off the balcony.

I couldn't look you in the face anymore. You disgusted me! I saw you with her at the office party. Yes, I saw you! Even though you claimed she seduced you. I still saw you! I can't get that horrid image out of my head. It was in that moment I knew I couldn't live another day hearing you tell me another lie.

I got a blade today, from a lady in the shower. After I let her touch me in all the right places, still it felt so wrong. You have no idea how hard it is to find even the simplest sharp object in here. Body cavity searches, routine cell shakedowns, constant reminders that I have and I am nothing. At least she was gentle; Aunty Julianna was never gentle whenever she touched me in the bathroom stall.

Nothing, and no one, can make me whole again. I feel bitter, sad and shattered. Even mirrors no longer lie to me. I see myself for what I am now - a monster.

"I have to do this, this is the only way." I calmly reassure myself, while clutching the jagged blade, slowly pressing it against my deathly pale skin.

"Calm down Adesuwa, don't slit your wrist just yet." A voice echoed from the corner of my dark cell. Your voice. But still I didn’t believe.

"Is that you Osas?" I whispered. "Have you come to forgive me or have you come for retribution?"

"Here's your lunch." said the prison guard, before spotting the blade and sounding the alarm. I was on my belly before I could say a word, my arm bent behind me, my fingers pried open, my ladder gone.

Another day. I guess I’ll die another day.
Ultima Thule
cosmica newly
Revolution unruly
everly Nov 2018
her lips were
sweet and thick
like
fresh mango nectar
unruly wavy hair draped over knee as she drew until the sun came up again

you just want to put her in
a glass
savor
and sip her till there’s
nothing left
for lee
Fish  of many colour
Bubbly and sprightly
Princes and princesses of the river
Move in geometric patterns
Up and down the stream
Schooled by the elders
Not to venture out in the dark
And end up as a dinner of the shark

Sneaky the little ones
Break the rules of the school

Fish O Fish
They
Watch the shark pass by
Duck under the big rock
And giggle under their breath
Making puddles of bubbles

Caught in the dark
By the elders of the clan
Reprimanded for their conduct
And brought back to school

A school of fish
No more unruly
Swim in geometric pattern serene
Up and down the stream
Steve Oct 2018
I wonder what you see
When you think of us
Red boxes, dead foxes
The flag of St George
Or a shiny red bus

Yes I wonder what you see
When you think of us
Scotch pies, och ayes
A white cross on a blue sky
Unruly Scots - treasonous!

I wonder what you see
When you think of us
Bore da, nos da
Green valleys and red dragons
Welsh words to discuss

Yes I wonder what you see
When you think of us
The mountains of Mourne, a leprechaun
Peace between orange and green
Or the troubles between us

What do you see?

Shamrock, glam rock, God save the Queen
Daffodils, leeks, tartan breeks, a red haired colleen
Better together, miles apart, kissing cousins or time for a fresh start?
Never before has the moment felt so close.
A poem with no form
Is like a cat without a home
A homosapien needs communication
Like a king requires a throne
A blatant infrastructure to remain fixated upon
Glued to a retirement package you've outgrown
Love fizzled away after several months
And now you are left with lumps of coal
Stuck in your throat like shadows in a hole
These drunken noodles are truly unruly
So we worship ancient poetry inscribed upon a bowl
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