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Anonymous
Brisbane, Australia
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"LOVE'S BRUSH-STROKES." Tell me which painter inflames your soul, and I will tell you what our love will be… Is it Miro, with bright splashes of colour? Our love will sparkle like a clear night sky. Perhaps it is Magritte. painting the impossible? We will defy the odds, loving long and epic… Now maybe Modigliani makes you deeply sigh? Our souls will twist in tight and sad beauty. Picasso move you then, in ways not seen before? People will wonder why we love, but never understand. Van Gogh’s thick strokes have caught your attention? Swirling and contentious, full of passion is our love. You like the precise nature and beauty of Mondrian? Our love will fit, in perfect harmony and last and last. Which of these is ours? Perhaps all or none… Our painting is not yet begun, and never will be finished.
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Anonymous
Brisbane, Australia
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all he wanted in life to write hundreds of sonnets comparing his lover’s hazel eyes to a spectacular sunrise— but life made him a murderer to write little haikus suggesting the jewels in her updo were frozen tears of saints the way the light danced over each piece when she practiced pointe blinding magnificent he had thousands of adjectives lined up like cartridges nestled in the clip to immortalize her plump lips perfectly pursed sipping her tea patient & pensive on the balcony while he typed the last verse writing line after line cooing over that burgundy smile the way, after dinner, her pink tongue poked out to lick a misplaced drop of wine off her lipline as she scraped the last bit of red velvet cake from her plate devouring every crumb satisfactory licks a giggle her indulgence, her leisure, once his greatest pleasure but now in deep regret wielding knives for pens shooting bullets as real time verbs in place of written words an odious fate an outlaw must take when he chooses to forsake his coveted mistress for a hit list of imaginary foes always a mission before he could finish a line, a verse, a rhythm it was always them vs. him picking fights with the electric company over every little penny instead of painting the poetry of his lover’s beautiful ballet no time for love there are injustices to solve he missed most desserts spent most of his time cursing his former bosses for letting him go when he couldn’t produce the prose they kept asking for stopped watching her rehearse. she spent hours in the mirror primping, placing every pin so neatly hair he used to adulate twirling legs once mesmerizing a vexing curse he nursed so bitter at the world first he lost his words then his doting girl fighting the world alone them against him sword against pen but everyone knows – world always wins
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Anonymous
Brisbane, Australia
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It was one twenty in the morning when she rolled around and he kissed her one thirty in the morning, when the spaces between fingers are filled and atoms are built
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Anonymous
Brisbane, Australia
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Between us silence lies. No canyon or chasm yawning, But a lake, bottomless and broad. Its shores grasping at the horizon. Its surface placid, but underneath Fed as it is by hidden springs A tumult rises. Or such is my hope. Nevertheless, my eyes defy its depths. Undaunted, drawn to your motion. Your fingers dance across your braid Swift fins flitting beneath the water. As your eyes sparkle with laughter Like the first stars rising Against the sunset of your blushing skin. Unfurl yourself unto me. Water lily, soft petaled wallflower Bloom out of distant, muted winters Into laughing, vibrant spring Where the blithe breeze exhales Silence and warmth in the same breath Caresses young flowers and ripples glassy waters
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“Sexy P.H. & Jersey Boy”
Level 9
Since: Mar 12
For Your Blessings On Me
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Please wait...
I want someone who knows that I am not really perfect,yet he stares at me like I am the most perfect woman he has ever seen!!!
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Level 7
Since: Jun 08
Location hidden
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Please wait...
I am the sweet spooned into bitter I am compassion flung at cruel I am the one that they all run to For advice and gentle fuel But how shocked they would be At the filth in my mind That my dreams throw me down And pull my hair from behind That one look can undress me Just one kiss becomes a lay Yes my love falls on it softly But my 'safe' word is gray modernhippie i hope she doesn't mind...... but she posted this on another thread...... i thought it was well placed here...... i will tell her of course...... and thank her ..
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Anonymous
Brisbane, Australia
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Desiree Rose wrote: <quoted text> Perhaps Leon says it best... http://www.youtube.com/watch... Perhaps he does ? The morning comes, it's time to leave the den Where I feel no wrongs, and walk about, minus sin. See my mask of emotions hanging upon my wall? Place it on me, I leave without time to stall. And into the sun, my mask does hide The pain, hurt, frustration pent up inside. I become the man who bore witness to better things yesterday, Proclaiming to all the wonders of things to come today. People relate to me as the boy with charms, People relate to me as one approachable with open arms. My mask does work a wonder, Keeping all scars beneath me, under. I try to kiss my past, leave it behind And share with no one it's awful crime. But it latches to me it's silent bond, Only to my worthlessness is it more fond. And in this day, this blessed hour, Her thoughts I try to wash away in my tearful shower. I speak to no one of the shame I feel, And how my battled heart lay emotionless on the glorious field. People relate to me as the boy with charms, People relate to me as one approachable with open arms. My mask does work a wonder, Keeping all scars beneath me, under. The mask that works itself unto me Molds itself to live along side me. Forget about the past? That's absurd when I only believed the lies, I only remembered the truths that turned stale and died. "Her beauty is indescribable, marvelous as anyone could say, And for her to be mine, this is what I pray." But which one, which girl do I refer? They're all one and the same, all their lives from me do deter. People relate to me as the boy with charms, People relate to me as one approachable with open arms. My mask does work a wonder, Keeping all scars beneath me, under. A foreign thought, they all come to be, As something unheard of to my new mask and me. Proudly I walk down the halls of unspoken wishes And see the path given to me throughout many visions. Living a life where what matters most is me, Self-centeredness here is the thing that reigns supreme. No need to worry about anyone else, Of the girl who chooses to live along side someone else. People relate to me as the boy with charms, People relate to me as one approachable with open arms. The new me is really nice to be As I smile the smile of forgotten troubles I no longer see.
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Anonymous
Brisbane, Australia
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Watching the rain soak and stick, your shirt form of your breast, The slow heaving, breathing motion of your chest, Eyes dare not glance, towards yours, and meet, And, as a matter of fact, I'd best just look at my feet. The rapid tempo of the rain tending, Crashing waves of beating drums trying my heart, un-mending, Helping me, remain free from comfort This trial, encroaching my mind for all this to sort. But, I, you see, said you were special ten times over, Cared for you, you know, thousand times, even when sober. I never though, as I recalled, Said, "I love you",'member, always stalled. Fair skin, soft and a bit red when blushed, And when she would smile at me, I felt flushed. Long, golden hair, smells delight my senses, Felt warm when she was around, during those harsh winters. She was the one, years past still, wish to be mine, And you were lovely, please don't cry, you are divine. A gift of God you no less are to me, But, she and me, I want for us to this time be. Dare I look within your watery eyes, And even the rain pouring down, incessant from the skies, Couldn't mask the tears still cascading, And this glance at you, eroding soon, my persona, awaiting. You move not, you remain motionless, still, Looking, not staring, no loathing, no will. You try to capture the essence of me, perchance, Remember my image and how we used to romance. I sit on the ground, soil my pants, no concern, though, And you sit, too, gazing still in my eyes, following the flow. Depressed, you mouth to me, "I understand," And I felt a bit relieved, and reached out to hold your hand. We sat next to each other for some time after, Head rested on my shoulder, and asked some things about her. Rain slowed some, and you kissed my cheek, wished me the best, And for one last time, on my shoulder, there you would rest.
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Anonymous
Brisbane, Australia
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Before dawn had slipped away, I felt as if I needed to say, For the fallacies and infidelities Spoken by chance when I wasn't really me..... The days and nights drag behind. My ways without you are so hard to find. Often stop to think, to consider How life without you is making me bitter. And if whence you said hence My time with you since I left was the better hours of your life, The thought makes you glad that you won't be my wife, I'll then leave you be And suffer with the thoughts of past you and me. But before dawn had slipped away I felt as if I needed to say, For all the fallacies and infidelities Spoken by chance when I just wasn't me..... I won't this time deny or venerate lies. It pains me to see truth through these eyes. I'd rather not reflect on the effect it left, It just put me on a course to your heart I'd hope be direct. I know just how I did you wrong. Sounds all too familiar, just like the songs. I tossed, turned all night in my bed, Just how could I have been so misled? I'd thought you'd be mine Despite the things I said, despite the lack of love shown over time. That's why before dawn had slipped away, I felt as if I needed to say, For all the fallacies and infidelities Spoken by chance when I just wasn't me... To you, the one I think of always, My undying apology........ I'm so very Sorry.
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“Sexy P.H. & Jersey Boy”
Level 9
Since: Mar 12
For Your Blessings On Me
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Please wait...
You cant be "Just Friends",with "Someone"that you're "Madly In Love" with!!!!!
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Anonymous
Brisbane, Australia
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stacked and proud wrote: I am the sweet spooned into bitter
I am compassion flung at cruel
I am the one that they all run to
For advice and gentle fuel
But how shocked they would be
At the filth in my mind
That my dreams throw me down
And pull my hair from behind
That one look can undress me
Just one kiss becomes a lay
Yes my love falls on it softly
But my 'safe' word is gray
modernhippie
i hope she doesn't mind...... but she posted this on another thread...... i thought it was well placed here...... i will tell her of course...... and thank her .. Every foolish drunken poet, boorish vanity without ceasing, (never may I warrant it, I of great noble stock,) has always declaimed fruitless praise in song of the girls of the lands all day long, certain gift, most incompletely, by God the Father: praising the hair, gown of fine love, and every such living girl, and lower down praising merrily the brows above the eyes; praising also, lovely shape, the smoothness of the soft breasts, and the beauty's arms, bright drape, she deserved honour, and the girl's hands. Then with his finest wizardry before night he did sing, he pays homage to God's greatness, fruitless eulogy with his tongue: leaving the middle without praise and the place where children are conceived, and the warm quim, clear excellence, tender and fat, bright fervent broken circle, where I loved, in perfect health, the quim below the smock. You are a body of boundless strength, a faultless court of fat's plumage. I declare, the quim is fair, circle of broad-edged lips, it is a valley longer than a spoon or a hand, a ditch to hold a penis two hands long; cu nt there by the swelling arse, song's table with its double in red. And the bright saints, men of the church, when they get the chance, perfect gift, don't fail, highest blessing, by me, to give it a good feel. For this reason, thorough rebuke, all you proud poets, let songs to the quim circulate without fail to gain reward. Sultan of an ode, it is silk, little seam, curtain on a fine bright cun t, flaps in a place of greeting, the sour grove, it is full of love, very proud forest, faultless gift, tender frieze, fur of a fine pair of testicles, a girl's thick grove, circle of precious greeting, lovely bush, God save it. Editor notes
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Anonymous
Brisbane, Australia
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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?
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Anonymous
Brisbane, Australia
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With the corner of your eye Touch me With a careless brush of your hand Touch me Swing your head and with your hair Touch me With half a smile upon you lips Touch me With tenderness of a passing thought Touch me With a whisper in your sigh Touch me With the flower you picked for prayer Touch me With the water in your tulsi leaves Touch me With the edge of your saree Touch me With the sensitivity of your prayer Touch me With the rudraksha mala round your neck Touch me With the sandal touch from your forehaed Touch me With the bell on your anklet Touch me With the sindoor in your puja tray Touch me With the jasmine mala round your neck Touch me With your mangalsutra's ringlets Touch me Touch me 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. ~DeVine.
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Anonymous
Brisbane, Australia
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"KAMA SUTRA. (Part One).... 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 find me. 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 help him. her dress envelopes her ass. her sender had licked her locked tight, stamped her eyelids with: confidential. "yes ma'am," he says, "could you show me the way to the bathroom?" she can. 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. everybody knows. the craving for one more stroke of luck feels so loud, I'm convinced I'm disturbing 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 chemistry. she 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 doesn't. 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 twice like an invitation. I enter the stall next door and stand, wavering, toes crushed under tense, trembling weight. 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 holy stocking........ (Continued........)
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Anonymous
Brisbane, Australia
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"KAMA SUTRA." (Part Two)....... 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 himself enough. 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 or anything 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 of this. 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. one accident and all the tension could slip from under your feet. and who knows where you go from there. you might be better off alone. 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.
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Anonymous
Brisbane, Australia
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Perplexed dreams and convoluted swarms – Of indignation 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 – Vanquished memories 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 – For requisition 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 – Always enabled, 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 And resolve,– The solution Brandished by the ways Of the forever making Through the beauty of the days – Given, and never forsaking The emotions, 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.
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Anonymous
Brisbane, Australia
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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!
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Anonymous
Brisbane, Australia
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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.
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Anonymous
Brisbane, Australia
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(She,,,,,,) "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!!
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Level 6
Since: Jan 12
Location hidden
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Scorpio
