#4387 Nov 19, 2012
You wanted to get myself back, but you didn't want to lose what you had.
To preform particular sacrifices means things have potential to go bad.
Giving into temptation and curiosity means letting your guard down.
Turning your head away from the waves, assuring yourself not to drown.
Time flickers as you catch your breath and open your eyes.
When they do open and all you can hear are lies. The lies that arise within yourself, and from a dark place.
They haunt you, they mock you, and you disappear without a trace.
Your soul purpose to regain yourself has surly drifted.
Who's to say that where you were before isn't when you were gifted?
#4388 Nov 19, 2012
With the corner of your eye
With a careless brush of your hand
Swing your head and with your hair
With half a smile upon you lips
With tenderness of a passing thought
With a whisper in your sigh
With the flower you picked for prayer
With the water in your tulsi leaves
With the edge of your saree
With the sensitivity of your prayer
With the rudraksha mala round your neck
With the sandal touch from your forehaed
With the bell on your anklet
With the sindoor in your puja tray
With the jasmine mala round your neck
With your mangalsutra's ringlets
Touch my soul
Touch my entire being
Touch my inside with your body
Touch my being or non being
Touch me to renunciation
Touch me to sin
Touch me that I may have to go
Touch me that I may have to die
Touch me that I have fever
Touch me beyond my longing
Touch me beyond belonging
Touch me make me sinner
Touch me make me saint
Touch me and who knows what might happen
Touch me that nothing is same again.
#4389 Nov 19, 2012
The sad thing is,
while walking through
the basement of a
used book store
snubbed by the scent of
rotted pages and queasy quiet,
my body is bellowing sick
thoughts and cravings;
dizzy murmurings like
rape me in a bookstore,
break this silence with your
groans of gratification,
I am in the self-help aisle
because I am standing anxiously
against the wood of a book shelf,
skimming through the kama sutra.
there is a young man
with an earring and mohawk
reading erotic comics.
I see his lap pushing at his
zipper like soup boiling
over the stove.
he looks up desperately and
turns to leave when an
employee asks if she can
her dress envelopes her ass.
her sender had licked her locked
tight, stamped her eyelids with:
"yes ma'am," he says,
"could you show me the way
to the bathroom?"
she leads him away while swinging
her right hand. when they pass me,
it grazes my thigh.
I wish I had the reflexes to
grab the fluke of her fingers
to keep them there and
guide them up my skirt.
I am in the self-help aisle
but I cannot help myself here.
they are halfway to the bathroom.
begrudgingly I think to myself,
she could have
just given him directions,
now they're off
to the most private section in here.
one graze of a fingertip made her mine.
With my paperback lust,
I leave the aisle to follow them,
holding my palms close to my hips
to keep me inside myself.
the basement floor is gray and
grimy under my shoes. dirty
down to my toes.
the craving for one more stroke
of luck feels so loud, I'm convinced
the peace, crying like a baby
over shoe shuffles and whispers.
all the customers wonder who
was stupid enough
to bring in a baby a babe what a babe-
I try to dismiss the image of infancy
in this hopeless moment of
oversexed torment. I resent
at all costs feeding into my
is no longer leading him but
looking at him and
laughing at him and
lowering her eyelids
and curling I want you
smiles. they reach
the door. he goes in.
she goes into the women's.
she had to use the bathroom, too.
the bathroom is the most private
section in here. the most human
section in here. I often find myself
there just to be alone, enclosed
in 4 thin walls, the weak latch lock
working well as a do not disturb sign.
in my most desperate moments of
isolation, I surrender to perpetually
using the bathroom.
I follow her there and watch
her enter a stall. in the foggy
mirror I notice my nose
is shiny with sweat and
the black has slipped from my
eyelid. my cheeks have reddened
as they often do. I try to
brush off the shame as her heel
clicks on the tile
I enter the stall next door
and stand, wavering,
toes crushed under tense,
until her heel scrapes against the
tile to touch my foot.
this coquetry must be
coincidence. because most intrigue
is actually accidental.
after a silent moment she says,
"sorry" and pulls back her
#4390 Nov 19, 2012
I think, at this junction,
the best I can do is
piss out my libido
and get the hell out
of here. but I don't.
I wait until her door opens to
give up my faux-relief.
I go with her to the sink.
she watches me wash my hands.
I use more soap than usual.
she sucks in her stomach
and pushes her breath against
her chest. I can tell.
making conversation and
subsequent sexual advances
is not as simple as porn
makes it out to be.
she closes her eyes and rubs off
the dark ink. the residue sticks
to her fingertips. I’m still drying my hands.
I think about the young man.
I speculate over whether he returned
to the self-help aisle, or if he helped
I linger there, at the sink, touching
each facial feature to justify my
loitering. I hold my ring finger
at the corner of my mouth.
I used to like my lips.
sometimes I'd push them out
to look like I was always kissing.
now I part them slightly,
top teeth emerging timidly,
to offer a slightly mystified,
slightly hungry expression,
left open with infinite sexual appetite.
but I’ve become uglier and don’t want her
to know. I sigh by accident.
she turns to me, shocked by a sound
in such stifling silence.
I feel the uncomfortable sensation of
my eyeballs pushing themselves
towards her. I look at me again, then
her, then me. she’s still looking at me.
she’s still looking at me.
something must be growing from out
my cheeks. a crowd of pimples or
a city of unusual hair or
a tattoo of leftover sauce or
a stamp of black and blue or or
else other than
beauty. I feel like I’m naked.
“can I help you?” I bitch.
she turns away with a scowl.
“sorry,” she groans,“I just
really like that skirt.”
she smooths down her dress over
her ass and smirks. suddenly
the tension transcends to
friction. I part my lips slightly.
“thanks.” I don’t sound grateful.
she probably didn’t mean it.
she probably didn’t mean any
I should leave now, I think.
she’s fixing her hair. she
breathes out. she sounds grateful.
I can’t help but see her
breathing heavy against the bathroom wall
while I pass my tongue down her neck.
my mouth feels dry and empty.
I gulp but not because I’m nervous.
I am nervous but I don’t want her
to know. but now she thinks I’m
nervous because I gulped.
I start to depart. my skirt
swishes with my speed and
brushes her backside.
“goodbye,” she says.
“bye,” I say, and go for the door, trying to
think about books. scholarly things. intellectualism.
I should go to the self-help aisle.
there is something there that I need.
and I’m never done with the kama sutra,
though that’s not something you can
help on your own.
I’ve seen the positions a hundred times
now. they require too much focus and
balance. both of you must be strong enough
to keep each other up.
and all the tension
could slip from under your feet.
and who knows where you go from there.
you might be better off
now the sad thing is,
while walking through
the bathroom of a
used book store,
my hand is still wet from washing. I used
too much soap. it slides over the door handle.
she is leaving now too and I’m here
having trouble opening a door.....
I almost ask for help.
#4391 Nov 19, 2012
Perplexed dreams and convoluted swarms –
Smiling at the forms;
The trial’s designs
Within a vacant, yet chosen mind;
Sweep through me
These passion’s alarms –
In the breadth of the doubt
That fosters the tempted
To escape thine soul’s harm –
Steal from the mind
The energy of the broken:–
Wills of the blind;
To the banished chills
Of a frozen intellect
Out of the foiled and the mired –
Found the multitude at fault –
Freed from the norm
To be ushered out from the vault;
The escape bound by truth,
And foiled from this dominion –
The vociferous youth,
Still anguished at the decision; –
The canons of reason
Echo upon this horizon,
The actions and proof
Never escaped the salutation
Of the promises for a future –
And never dissolved;
The reclamation upon an edifice
Upon which the actions of only being
Were replenished and of surety solved –
From this, it is that the species
Should be given
To the evolved –
The troubles so free from the taken,
In this awakening of faith
Brandished by the ways
Of the forever making
Through the beauty of the days –
Given, and never forsaking
Of bitterness and hatred;
Only to be replaced by an affection
That is cold and naked,–
Yet compelled within the belief
That the dearly departed
Should fill the grief
Of a life-borne clemency
Bound at the steps
Of the flawed and ill-fated;
Caress this adulation
Within the disputes
Of whom shall be first
And what shall be nascent; –
For by way of thine descendants
It is that this should be fulfilled
If only to the foiled,
That they should escape the world
Of the ascendant; –
Spirits that escape this resignation –
And upon these wings
Transcended the soil.
#4392 Nov 19, 2012
I hate this pain I'm going through and every tear I've cried!
I hate the way I feel for you and every way you've lied!
I hate the way you play your games and keep the truth inside!
I hate the way you lead me on and keep me wasting time!
I hate the way i think of you and how I'm left behind!
I hate the way you hurt me so and how it's justified!
I hate the way I'm there for you and then you change your mind!
I hate the way I'll take the blame and you'll be satisfied!
I hate the way I've loved you so and how hard I've always tried!
I hate the way I give my all and you stay full of pride!
#4393 Nov 19, 2012
A cold heart turned black,
no emotion as she looks back.
What once was no longer in sight,
no more reason to fight.
No holding on,
her feelings are gone.
No need for goodbye,
for no tears will fly.
No feeling of expectation
or need of an explanation.
Don't ever stop to say hi,
for she'll just walk right by.
Nonexistent is what you are,
for she's been pushed to far.
No memories to erase,
for you've already been replaced.
No hurt or longing,
no sounds of wounded sobbing.
Not even an emotion of hatred,
to replace what once was sacred.
Nothing in her wake,
finally no more heart to take.
#4394 Nov 20, 2012
"HER ORGASMIC MOMENT."
He was on his way to take a shower
Only I was still daydreaming like hell
I saw you as you walked into my room
Towel wrapped around your waist
With a.....…so obvious hard-on
Putting your one knee carefully down beside me
Then the other one on the other side of me
Me peeping through narrow eyelids
Watching you with anticipation
Sliding your finger through silk
Eyes clouded but not completely
Enjoying this teasing moment
As you touch yourself tenderly
Spreading your juices
My silky night gown sliding up a fraction more
Excitement filling every vessel in me
You now press down on top of me
Wrap your arms around me
And kiss me tenderly
In the nap of my neck
I turn my lips towards you
Eyes still close
You kiss me so tenderly
I softly started to moan
Rolling on my back
You on top pressing down on me
Positioning yourself between my legs
Where it’s warm and ready
Taking me with you in rhythm
Until not one of us could hold back any longer
And shoot off right there
I open my eyes saying
We took “Our” shower together now
We smiled for a moment
Drinking in the perfect orgasmic moment
Knowing we are connected
In every way …heart and soul
You and I
He came back into my room….....asking
Are you still asleep?
No answer… he turned around and walked away
I smile.....…and hear another beer bottle
And the flip of the bottle top
I close my door and took my
Morning shower alone
Thinking about you!!
Since: Jan 12
#4395 Nov 20, 2012
Try a real woman
#4396 Nov 20, 2012
I want you partially submerged in a gentle stream
Lying on a soft bed of polished pebbles
With the warm sun reflecting from your face
As you close your eyes to white darkness
I want you to sense my cool fingers outline the contours of your body
While a happy breeze carries the waters evaporating from your bare skin into
Leaving tight goose bumps dancing
And I want to feel your chest rise and fall with each breath
When I rest my head upon you
I want to smell your soft scents intrigue my imagination
When I lean in to whisper into your ear
And you feel my breath as my lips move quietly near
I want to sense you respond in reflex to the tickle of my sweet words
And I want you to hold them tightly with me
I want to feel you struggle with patience
As sensuality increases with our heartbeats
Struggle to allow every moment to fully satisfy the palate
Though we salivate for the complete and final burst of sensual satisfaction
That looms like a quivering shadow on the horizons
I want you to allow my lips to soothingly caress the nape of your neck
And rub your collar with my tongue slightly exposed to your secret flavors
And lightly kiss the moist levels of your chest
And taste the tiny pools collected in your navel
I want to feel you draw me near
When I move closer to your thighs
While the birds sing flittingly overhead
I want to press your hands into your soft skin as I kiss your fingertips
And I want to relax them from wanting more with growing lust
As I kiss your genitals with your hands softly in mine
I want to make in these moments what a lifetime might seem
While we bring one another to the brink of sensual ecstasy
Your head tilted back in the shallow waters
And just for now, hold each other in arms of love, fear and sexual bliss
As the soothing babbles and bubbles of Nature’s brook
Carry the powers of historical waters downstream where we shall one day meet
To make love
And with tearful smiles
And with touching kisses and fingertips
And sweet words whispered with wet lips
Nestled in our ears
And in the depths of our hearts
#4397 Nov 20, 2012
I should have gone into work today but
your tongue convinced me to come
inside and play with you…....
To ride our red rocket ship to the distant planet of carnal lust where our sensual sins are instantly forgiven and celebrated amidst mute pleas for gentle mercy so rightly ignored as a token gesture to rationality and begging for more is of course granted by the Court of No Regrets
You alone have always held the secret
key that released the chastised prisoner of
passion locked deep inside of me your taste
buds have caressed every morsel of my
body as if I were an ice cube wrapped
in honey much like the oyster swallowed
whole to tease our ravaged pendulums whose
demand for thirsty water shall be quenched at
the moment our tongues mysteriously turn ice cold.
#4398 Nov 20, 2012
I see her as the woman on the road,
and in the distance just inside her sight,
one solitary male approaching—that alone,
draws up within her, latent fire
and by its warming she must genuflect
before the altar of desire.
There is a silent passion, holy in its touch,
that sparks connection, unexplained.
There is electric purity within its cloud
that strikes across that narrowing space,
creates magnetic lust in celebration
of the naked thrust oncoming,
finally to close the gap
between her trembling body
and his throbbing heat.
I see divinity in that.
I see the re-enactment of the woman made
to be the glory in that polymorphic act
inspired from pagan dreams of paradise,
gifted yet today
upon the god-blessed whoring saint
#4399 Nov 20, 2012
It’s sticky and it’s sweet
Limp but I’m sure I could get it to peek
I will linger on it and give you that sweet release
But all in due time,
let’s play hide and go seek
I fumble around searching for my prize
I wanted to play but please don’t run and hide
I pout and stick my dewy lip out
You chuckle enjoying the ruse
But never forget you’re the one that got me to sing the blues
I start to search for that impeccable throb
Finding it hiding deep like a cob
I gleam with might
Licking my lips with anticipation and delight
Resting my hands on your thighs
I lean in retrieving my sort after prize
Soft and sleek at first working my way up your peeking birch
A hiss seeps from your clenched teeth
Giving my tongue the accolade it seeks
To run it up and down from thick base
to throbbing tip
I let my teeth come out and play
Grinding them up and down your intrepid bay
Feeling you throb and pulse with pleasure
Pushes me on until your length is all I can measure
Gagging on the sheer size,
feeling your hands weave and pull with surprise
Pushing and pulling me back and forth
Feeling you quiver yearning for what only I can fulfil
I let you have it and give you the drill
Yelling out my name like it’s pure ecstasy
You let go and pour out your sweet yearning for me
Letting me lick my lips and swallow with glee.
Since: Jan 12
#4400 Nov 20, 2012
knocking on DeVine's box
Dude, honestly it's all lovely ..
but do you EVER do any of it?
#4401 Nov 20, 2012
did you have someone particular in mind ?
This is the word tightrope.
Now imagine me,
inching across it in the space
between our thoughts.
I hold our breaths.
There is no word net.
You want me to fall,
I guessed as much;
I teeter, but I succeed.
The word applause is written all over me
This is the time about now,
I'll take a bow, and exit........
#4402 Nov 20, 2012
Somewhere on the other side
of this wide night
and the distance between us,
I am thinking of you.
The room is turning slowly
away from the moon.
This is pleasurable.
Or shall I cross that out
and say it is sad?
In one of the tenses I sing
an impossible song
of desire that you cannot hear.
La lala la. See?
I close my eyes
and imagine the dark hills
I would have to cross
to reach you.
For I am in love with you
and this is what it is like......
or what it is like in words.
Since: Jan 12
#4403 Nov 20, 2012
bow all you like I don't think you're going to hear the applause in your own room unless it's prerecorded.
And NO, I wasn't offering girlfriend.
#4404 Nov 20, 2012
Not a red rose or a satin heart.
I give you an onion.
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief.
I am trying to be truthful.
Not a cute card or a kissogram.
I give you an onion.
Its fierce kiss
will stay on your lips,
possessive and faithful
as we are,
for as long as we are.
Its platinum loops shrink
to an engagement-ring,
if you like.
Its scent will cling
to your fingers,
cling to your knife.
#4405 Nov 20, 2012
We Poetic astronomers are nomads,
Merchants, circus people,
All the earth our tent.
We are industrious.
We breed enthusiasms,
Honour our responsibility to awe.
Nothing more, nothing less......
But the universe has moved a long way off.
Sometimes, I confess,
Starlight seems too sharp,
And like the moon
I bend my face to the ground,
To the small patch where each foot falls,
Before it falls,
And I forget to answer questions,
And only count things.
Since: Jan 12
#4406 Nov 20, 2012
the only candid,
was the onion
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