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Ayeshah Jan 2014
Man,
there's a cold dark corner
in my room,
your voice calls
out when I'm curled up there
on the dank musty floor,
it speaks to me; I'm coming for you.
I hold to the
voiceful melody of your
softly
spoken sounds as you drown out
the drone of negativity
and the past men who lied
when they said
they'd always love me...
His'aholic.
As I lie on my bed
in the fetal position,
eyes closed
hoping
you'll walk in,  lift me onto your lap
cradled me in that protective way
only you're able to give me,
feel your fingers caress me.
Too many times I find
I walk in a stupor from the loving  you gave.
Gosh it feels so long ago
and my needs wrecking  my senses
once more can you do to me what you did last time,
just once more & I'll let it be.
I'm feigning...
My dystonia
is you- every time you come around
I get what I'll call
His'aholic,
uncontainable, uncontrollable
movements and twitches
twerking if need be, just to get
intoxicated one more time of off
you,
like the excitement a kleptomaniac gets
or the levels of high a shopaholic feels
my dopamine fired up every time
you do what you do to me
Him'aholic, His'aholic,
Your'aholic
my
infectiousness habits,
sweats & hot flashes-
Man
because of what you do,
mentally I'm gone,
once you take root in my veins,
in my lungs,
I forget all that's wrong with the world,
all those problems from my past
I no longer see any of those things.
It's a made up word,
less you count when
Kelly Price
used
Him'aholic for her album title.
Different meaning in 
 His'aholic, different in Your'aholic too,
but
that's a bit more personal and much more deep,
it a thing where
  well forget I said anything
hehehe.
I make up my own words in referencing to anything about you.
Man,
I'm  jonesing, longing and yearning
oh please oh please
note
the
oh please-
I'm begging you!
Your the unusual
"drug" addiction
I need to feed on,
You got me
craving, shamefully
shaking with it,
longing and in a dazed- hazy blur.
Because of you I'm a
mindless puppet, my strings
once connected to you
are torn.
The music doesn't sound right,
the dance ain't got he same
rhythm,
I feel sick when I can't have you
feel upside down,
when I ain't got my fix.
I got it bad & all I want is you
say what you want but just know
I got a illness
there's only one cure for
His'aholic
&
it's
you!
Always Me Ayeshah ®
Copyright 1977 - Present ©
K.A.C.L.N ©
All right reserved ®
made up some these words and no disrespect to anyone with a real illness/addiction. Thanks for reading even if for YOU it may not make sense.
It was fun and I did a play on words. Besos!
Colm Aug 2019
Quiet voices call
Another restful mind's eye
To see as others
Be as being cannot call
And remind if quiet lives
Tuesday 12 - A tanka always has a place in my heart
Lawrence Hall Mar 2018
Voices visions #resistance
PayPal and all major credit cards selfie
Occupation under Trump diversity
In Trump’s Amerika alt.woke.taghash

Get your rosaries off my recycled batteries  
Transgressive lines in a paradigm ****(f)t
We need to start the conversation, so shut up
While I’m centering thoughts and prayers on me

But the baby’s nappies need changing again
And who is going to carry the garbage out?
Ceyhun Mahi Jun 2017
A pun, a pun, a pun I seek,
Throughout the voiceful days,
Upon the words, around the worlds,
The witty puns I chase.

At times at certain witty moods,
It is a piece of cake,
With witty cherries on the top,
I get or I do bake!
Euan Dixon Aug 2015
To hold a view, of sound not sight
The rustling calls, of an inward light

To travel among stars, lost but free
Rise to the call of the voiceful sea
We snapped memories into photobook
Watching the edges of songful hedges
Draw  a hopeful singlet of grace of
Testimonies conquered in neglected verses.
We played from the check of honoured
Dimples crossing routes of perfections.
Here are tunes playing from the photoshop
Of our hearts designing graphics cards
Filled with affections &bubbles of love.

Portrait of tomorrow carved an amazing
hours in the street decorated with colours.
these are colours depicting greatness
freshness &braveness of the voiceful heart
Kitchened through the celestial laughter
Of a slighting mother to her joyfulness.
We are similar, singular and opposite,
We are plural of everything humanity,
Sweetness of every singing lyrics & verses.

Let's this fondleness remain captivating
boys. Sweet. Bitter. Acidic. Sour. Raw.
Reflection of the World Series of smiles
Printing names on carved pumpkins leafs
Boys carrying themselves in their shadows
Carrying themselves in memories of their
Parents' pastoral culture and languages.
Boys spinning into crispy treats of white
dreams written on the stream of the skies.

We are fascinated about the rare cloud
journeying towards the stars of our souls
Harbouring our names in a bag of colours
Imagination are doubtful unperturbed pictures
Painted in the innocent face of boys of tomorrow
After the sun bent the tremour of our rushes
The rain came like a troubadour warrior
Between veteran lips of boys who went &never
returned memories of their family portraits.

We are boys carrying our family's loss
We are boys carrying our Father's legacy
Bearing the pursuit of our fathers yesterday
Look into our eyes & see our imaginations
those imaginations created by our ancestral
ancestors for tomorrow to hold our peace.
We may not know that these sands are made
of ridges of boys like us who went carrying
Pictures of dreams that we could not retrieve.


©John Chizoba Vincent
FromAPenRefusingFrustration
VV Lettish Sep 2017
i have not a desire
to become an apt and voiceful poet
but a blooming hope to grow
into a word war general

— The End —