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Edna Sweetlove Jan 2015
Number 7 in the ORLOK series and one of the best*

O how I relish the taste of blood
****** out from the devastated jugular
But there is more, much more
When the victim is a nubile ****
From a Transylvanian village
Where ****** morality
Is quite ******* thin on the ground;
And that is how I met my fate.

'Twas on an October eve
When I met plump Esmeralda
And (having fed my fill from her neck
as she slept in her hut
under filthy rags stinking of stale *****),
I sank my fangs into her naked belly
Ripping into her bloated guts
With my accustomed gusto;
My tongue slurping its way
Over her twitching ****;
And finally I descended joyously
To her odorous *****-encrusted *****
For the last rites,
Before the final curtain
To her worthless life of peasantry.

But then, as my excitement mounted,
And just as I was on the verge
Of pumping out my vampiric *******,
I felt an agonising, mind-blasting pain
As a major stroke swept through me,
Wrecking my synapses big time,
Turning my brain into guacamole.
And now I am a crippled ******,
Just a spasticated old vampire
In my second-hand rusting wheelchair,
Courtesy of Romanian Social Services,
Drooling helplessly
Into my swollen pissy crotch,
Waiting for another enema,
My sole remaining pleasure
And a stimulus to my jaded prostate.

But, hurrah! hurrah! new hope arrives:
A miracle occurs as I read of
The new wonder pill from SuperDrug
Available only in private practise
And guaranteed to rejuvenate the jaded
Or your money back, no worries.
Orlok will fly again to pursue
The pleasures of the flesh
And especially the botty-zone.
Odd Odyssey Poet Oct 2021
Feel too young to live,
Stuck in all of my old ideas:
On the very seasides-
Wait on time to change its tide.

Its long line of spray-
All the good moments are-
Quiet subtle whispers:
As the worst of them all,
Are a grating roar.

Begin, and cease,
The tides have grown full:
Everything now draws back;
As I feel like a lost pebble,
Without its own direction:

Tremulous, is man's misery;
In their shoreless ocean,
Waiting on the sand, shivering in cold.
Only the brave try-
To swim to the- Ends of eternity,
As children feeling so bold.

Perhaps that time I was bored,
Wondering what's next to come?
Timeless, is life when you're lost-
In all your childish dreams.

With the aroma salts,
Hair lost in the breeze;
I feel so joyously lost at Sea.

Deep, quiet, and alone;
Young, bright, fair, and free:
Only when, it was the younger me.

The ocean's body-
Is a thousand tears,
Of the Earth's greatest guilt:
Pulling me away from dreams;
As her and I are both Blue.

Awful spirits of the deep,
Once took my happiness -
And returned to me filth:

Still at the time, of my youth.
For youth is, so cruel.
But what are we to do,
To only hope we make it through?
T L Addis Dec 2014
all these things led you here
the oversized headlines
of your father’s newspaper
and his father's before him
the pakistani shopkeeper
who accused you of stealing
whose bark roasted your pimpled face
the boy at college you flirted with
the tall boy with the sleek curtained hair
whose family had fled iraq
who made you laugh
and nudged your knees
who went to study medicine
and never texted you back
your dad’s boss
the fat Jamaican
who sacked him at easter
just a handful of years before his retirement
the girl at work
beautiful girl
in the headscarf
who married a man she’d never seen
and when you asked her
if he was a good man
she replied joyously ‘yes!
the best man!’
the many taxi drivers
who ferry you home
and overcharge you
watching you in the dark mirror
beetle eyes glistening
caressing the face you prepared so neatly
now blotchy and wet
ketchup clown
bloated in the window
the face of second generation ivory
all these things led you here
I run my fingers everywhere,
Well, almost everywhere.

They dance along your back in reassurance,
Seek shelter in the comfort of your own,
Press matter to matter to confirm your existence,
Wring the day’s dripping tension from your back,
And shoulders, and feet.

In the mornings they profusely itch,
Until they get the chance to text you good morning,
In the afternoons they gnawingly ache,
Until they’re knocking at your door.
But mostly, in the evenings they joyously sing,
Home once again wrapped up in yours.

I run my fingers everywhere,
Well, Mostly everywhere.

But mostly, they strain to breaking
Reaching out to you.
Follow up to my previous work, the other side of the coin, the other hand intertwine.
Jessica Golich Jan 2015
Enthusiastically drawing an electrifying first breath of air as the emotionally significant cut of the umbilical cord welcomes an angel onboard
Capturing the delicate beauty of invisible, energetic strings eternally connecting two highly raptured, earthly beings; breaking free of the chrysalis, a monarch joyously spreads its invigorating wings and zings through the air with entrancingly colored wings.
Who knew the sky tasted so Sour? Bitter?
Words can never describe, as soon as I feel my adjectives grasp

the flavor on the tip of my tongue, it dissolves, escapes into my body.
I think of ****'s sweeter psychedelic cousin invading my veins,

putting thumping jumping beats and tapping feet in my brain cells.

The frigid February air invites pleasant shivers all over my body

climbing up and up and up my spinal cord, driving me wild. Am I wild?
I feel beautiful, I feel perfect and I want the world to know.
People stare, I wave. They reply with expressions that make me 

practically roll on the floor laughing. Am I scaring you tonight?
My head is roaring, my skin feels hot and as I fall into a backseat

I think, I feel it. I feel so good, so good. What better way to go but Up?
So I rip open a baggie and pour another hit into eager lips.

We walk in, and we are It. We are what everyone wants to be,

living on a steady diet of rails, hits and clouds of smoke,
and
shot after shot after shot, hold the chaser. 

We are a hot mess of bones, skin, hips and teeth. 

And then the DJ drops the beat and we transform.

Mt. Mt. Mt. We move, one body flowing into another.

We dance hotter, closer, faster, smoother,

bodies rolling effortlessly, melting into one another,

a collection of spidery neurons lapping up every sensation joyously.

Bones moan, trapped in the ecstasy, and then

I'm dancing with you, I'm rolling with you, I'm feeling so fully with you.

My shirt clings to slick skin as my hips fit so perfectly into yours.

I feel the energy coursing between, swear I can even see it through all the

dazzling colored lights slicing through the air. And you must see it too,

because then your lips are on mine and we are clinging and kissing and 

eating each other's passion, tongue on tongue, licking the salt off

each other's faces. I'm drenched and my soul's inflamed and so completely turned on

and you ask me if I want another hit of molly. I say absolutely.



You take out a key and a bag of sparkly white powder, balance it so perfectly,

offer it to fervent sinuses, and I breathe it in graciously. I feel myself come to life.

You smile and you grab me, claim me, and then your hands are on me.

Hot, smooth, wet, I can feel my euphoria fill me and spill out of me, 

offer it to the world around me. And then we are together again, and you say

Show Her You Love Her. And I do. I press my lips against hers, open my mouth,

offer her the flawless exhilaration consuming my anatomy, and she accepts.

Then you join in, three persons lulling in this incredible feeling, 

tongues and bodies moving together, dissolving into each other, until 

it’s impossible to decipher where one begins and one ends. 

And the music is blaring and we're jumping and thrusting our hands to the ceiling,

thinking we could really touch the sky from all the way Up Here.  

I grab you, pull you in toward me, squeeze you, hard and you groan,

head falling off your body. You pick me up and spin me around and around, I laugh

and wrap my legs around your waist, ride you like a riptide, wave after wave of desire

moving my body, moving through my body, moving in my body. And then your lips

are pressed so close to my ear, teasing me with thin wisps of I Love You, I Want You,

Give Me All Of You Tonight. And I push against you, fall into you, and then


I Wake Up. Drained, wasted, spent, brain throbbing against my skull.

Sprawled in my bed, sweating out toxins that loved me so well the night before.

Betrayed, falling into depression, body aching inside and out, I shut my eyes,

try to concentrate on not throwing up, and I feel you. You're lying next to me,

and When Did You Get Here? What Did We Do? You smile and ask if I'm up for

round two. No, Get Out, Can't You See I'm Hurting? So you take out some sweet

California green and a piece, pack it tight. Light it up, rip it hard, offer me the bowl.

I do the same, feel a little better, but not. Not the same,

I still make you leave when it's kicked. Lying there, dropping lower and lower

as minutes tick by so slowly, I try to embrace the purple haze enveloping me.

But all I really want is some water and some ecstasy.
Seán Mac Falls May 2012
As I was thinking of her she appeared,
Suddenly my heart was a child's balloon,
We walked to the tea room by the lake,
And spoke of fountains dancing joyously.
Yitkbel Nov 2019
I

It seems that there are no more
Unreachable dreams
It happens that in this world
There can be no real peace          

When blood and tears still bleed
For those buried under the rubble of war
And unfulfilled needs
How many of us despair in the ennui
Of unexplained emptiness, of gluttony          
Of materialism and wants

Mankind must grow with upward gazes
As the sunflower must face the sun              
But when our desires are so easily reached
And when the time has become senile, and forgettable
What happens to us ordinary people?  
Swept away and obscured by Reality and the gunsmoke?
Then, silenced?



But I,
I must sing
Must sing in the desolation
In the silence
I sing
Forget me if you please,
Mock me if you please
“Chasing meaningless dreams”
“Reality isn’t idealistic like your poetry”
            

Yet-

Think,
what songs and chants, after a millennium still sing
Think,
what colours and paints, after centuries
Still brightly remains
Think,
Imagine if there are no words and Babylon
Is only recalled in the ruins’ dreams

I must fearlessly sing,
Fearlessly sing,
With every atom of my soul and being
With nothing, like a beggar to the kings,
But my love
Wild and free

Save the world in my paintings
Shine hope from my poetry
When my flesh is buried by the fleeting
When my soul ascends into the everlasting
My thoughts, my songs, will still be echoing
Resonating
Within every heart like me,
Borne
From
A dream                

II

Black smoke fills the red battlefield
Gray fogs and clouds banishing all light
All cries and outbursts, quickly dissipating
I still sing, within the solitude, brightly sing

The gargantuan Oak Tree breathing in the desolation
Its crowns are still hidden above the clouds,
Above all beings
Though, most of its leaves, have already left
For that place
We cannot yet be

The sun slowly descends
Bidding farewell to the moon waning  
Above the light-polluted plain
Wounded by the over-brightness
Of materials and beings
None can find any guiding stars
The hungry and lost dream of flying
The full and peaceful suffer in ennui



But I,
I must sing
Must sing in the desolation
In the silence
I sing
Forget me if you please,
Mock me if you please
“Chasing meaningless dreams”
“Reality isn’t idealistic like your poetry”

Yet,

I must fearlessly sing,
Fearlessly sing,
With every atom of my soul and being
With nothing, like a beggar to the kings,
But my love
Wild and free

Save the world in my paintings
Shine hope from my poetry
When my flesh is buried by the fleeting
When my soul ascends into the everlasting
My thoughts, my songs, will still be echoing
Resonating
Within every heart like me,
Borne
From a
Dream

III

All beings are occupied with walking
Through the hectic roads                    
But I am still trembling, climbing
The bough of this abandoned Oak Tree
Way above, the light, real, mirage or delusion?
Resisting my hesitation
I still keep my faith steady and unwavering
Though only the silence loudly sings
With a few leaves of mockery and laughter
Calling me absurd
Calling me silly
I still sing, I still scream
Dazed with my humility



But I,
I must sing
Must sing in the desolation
In the silence
I sing
Forget me if you please,
Mock me if you please
“Chasing meaningless dreams”
“Reality isn’t idealistic like your poetry”
Yet,

I must fearlessly sing,
Fearlessly sing,
With every atom of my soul and being
With nothing, like a beggar to the kings,
But my love
Wild and free

Save the world in my paintings
Shine hope from my poetry
When my flesh is buried by the fleeting
When my soul ascends into the everlasting
My thoughts, my songs, will still be echoing
Resonating
Within every heart like me,
Borne
From a
Dream

IV

Like salmon swimming upstream
Upon this Life’s Strait
Between Nothingness of Being
And the Endlessness of Being
Every woman and man
Rushing towards the same direction
Flight or falling
The end is always the same
Death, and repeats,
The Cycle of Living

The Sea of Every Being, who would stop flowing?
Stones, or vessels, everything standing still, will never remain
Fish and droplets, must also combine with the waters of already been

Throughout history,
Prosperity never enjoyed longevity
It doesn’t matter at all,
Whether or not you believe in the
Holy Dream
Everyone wants to leave a mark
Leave a mark on the plain
Where impermanence permanently be  
Leave a mark, footsteps
Where the dust of beings and the temporal wind
Will always sweep
It all
Clean

And I stop, downstream
Facing everyone upwards
Leaving
And sing



And I,
I must sing
Must sing in the desolation
In the silence
I sing
Forget me if you please,
Mock me if you please
“Chasing meaningless dreams”
“Reality isn’t idealistic like your poetry”
Yet,

I must fearlessly sing,
Fearlessly sing,
With every atom of my soul and being
With nothing, like a beggar to the kings,
But my love
Wild and free

Save the world in my paintings
Shine hope from my poetry
When my flesh is buried by the fleeting
When my soul ascends into the everlasting
My thoughts, my songs, will still be echoing
Resonating
Within every heart like me,
Borne
From a
Dream

Conclusion:

Row upon row
Hopeless bodies crawl and crouch
Upon the desert of abundance
Chased by the sandstorm
That will soon catch up to us
And sweep over all

But those of us awake
Rush towards the other way
Fearlessly sing
Joyously sing
It doesn’t matter what lies beyond this wave
Darkness or Light
We still sing
In the Desolation, I Must Sing
Original Lyric in Chinese written:
Thursday, October 24, 2019, 8:44 PM
English translation completed on:
Sunday, October 27, 2019, 2:00PM
---
Thanks to Lawrence Hall for proofreading! :)
This is from a few weeks ago; I think my mind and eyes need a little rest. I also should read a little bit more, my reservoir of knowledge is running a little bit low.
kate b Mar 2013
1.

A man hacked through the dense, thorny vines

            He was frightened

                      As he stumbled upon

                               the golden ruin


2.


A little girl joyously scanned the bush if blackberries

                                        As she reached eagerly for one,

         she caught a bramble on her little finger

The girl burst into tears


3.

Why must a thorn be bad?

    It's the last struggle before victory.

      
4.

The righteous men wore laurel leaf crowns at the party in merriment

The sinner in the corner wore a crown of thorns


5.

A rose bush is bittersweet

                                               The glorious roses

             And the cruel brambles


6.

The wall was not made of stone.

                                A separated family could hear each other lament from either side


7.

The two roads went to the same place

                    One was paved and wide

The other was narrow and overtaken by the dense bush


8.

A weary family walked through a bed of thorns

             A new family walked to their freedom.


9.**

One does not go through life,

              without

a thorn

— The End —