JUST SEX and POETRY
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#5074 Dec 19, 2012
She moans as she drips a diamond liquid
She can't get enough of those soft pearl kisses
A tongue grace the secrets of her riches
The night time lights from the shimmer of her pearl clit

The right train of focus make her orbit
I'm touching her, she's glowing like a sci fi porn flick
Her back arch, under her, she let the air in
Blowing on her pearl, until she cums from the whirl wind

The slow stroke from the tongue make her glisten
If she quiet down, you can hear a river whistling
I drive in, that tongue work like a piston
She behind the wheel, I can make her rev the engine
Make her spread, holding on like a pull up bar
If she try and run, guarantee she not getting far
I go hard you can see a diamond dripping
I can see the storm, and I dive right in it

She opens up, notice how her pearl lit
Fingers down her spine make her jewelry box moisten
Hold my head, I go dumb til I can't think
When she at her peak she wide eyed and she can't blink

Kiss her thighs, hold her hand as she comes down
Diamonds all over the bed and on the floor now
She drips rich with one touch of a french kiss
Diamonds rain out when I'm licking on her pearl clit
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#5076 Dec 19, 2012
Animal Instinct.

If I said when you stare deep into my eyes, I can physically feel your touch.

Would you reach out to stroke, enticing me, to the point just before too much?

If I admitted your kisses melt my lips.

Would you set me aflame like a match?

How your thighs, when entangled, draws my hand to squeeze.

Would you growl with pleasure leaving a scratch?

How long after your taste leaves my tongue, I yearn to devour you still.

Would you allow me to return time and again, until I have had my fill?

If I told you, I love you, burn for your body, lust for you with a full heart.

Would you remain for the end, return my desire, knowing this is just our start?

Are you reading me baby?
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#5077 Dec 19, 2012
I thought of you today
Of the sweet moments
and comments we shared
Of your lovely ways that portrayed how much you cared
And I feel like a fool that I never reciprocated.

I thought of you today
Of being woken up to a good head
That was always accompanied with breakfast in bed
Sorry gal that I never treated you as befitted
and I hate imagining that now another man has taken the lead.

I thought of you today
Of your sweet kisses and warm embraces
Never thought I'd wake up to your packed suit cases
Never thought you'd leave without any traces
I know now another man is undoing your thong laces

I thought of you today
And I regret that I never treated you as a princes
and I regret sitting here counting my loses
But I guess that's life's many faces.......

Sometimes it deals u with the roughest of aces.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#5078 Dec 19, 2012
All the women in my life— bring me confusion
All the pain in my chest— not really amusing
Sadness and devastation somehow creates delusions
Vulnerability is the worst type of inclusion...

I could name the girls right now... Like Keisha
She left my face paler than a Japanese geisha
Losing the strength to walk with my head held high
I'm too messed up inside right now— I want to cry
I can't trust a woman no more— all they do is hurt me
The last few women in my life loved to do the dirty
I gave this girl my all— only for her to avert me
I'm sick and tired of it all— sick of all the hurting

Although my heart is burning— I'm still tougher than leather
That's what I thought until I met this girl called Heather
She casted her spells on me like a wicked witch
I was used and abused like a frigid bitch
Oh I hate the fucking bitch for being a witch
My heart was stitched and fucked around like a switch

I thought Shah'Reece loved me hard but she never
She was as bad as that super bitch witch Heather
All this lust overtakes vulnerable emotions
Lust is a sin that becomes deadlier than potions
It can take over you like a set of tides and oceans

These are my own experiences— not a set of idealistic notions
Falling in love so young and prematurely really Isn't so smart
Because there's pain and confusion savagely damaging the heart
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#5079 Dec 19, 2012
It started out with a simple hello
It started out just being cool and mellow
It started out with them dancing together
Forgetting they both had a responsibility as Already lovers to another
That is how the reptile comes into the fold
Some story's should never be told
But
In this case
In this time and place
Well....
Greed
Power with lust
Not thinking
No trust
Just lust
Sinful
Suicidal
Corruption of the soul
Hearts so cold
Playing with fire
The cost of your own soul
Is the price for your sinful desire
Temptation so sexy
Deception as the snake
For heaven sake
Don't do it....what you feel you should take
This sinful affair will cost you
More then you can imagine
Indeed yes their is satisfaction
But
With this hateful reaction
The bones will awake
The horror of hell....that awful place
Sadness
Loneliness
Bitterness
Heartache
Damaged hearts
Souls become ice....dead as cold
No longer can we be as a healthy couple
No longer can we as one to each other
Embrace and hold
Fighting
Hate
Betrayal
Because we fucked another woman
Not hers
Not his
Twisted we become in this
Deadly sinful affair
Cruel and unfair
A broken home
All is alone
Destruction is around us all
We like so many have fall
Lost....
This Sinful Affair has a high price
This Sinful Affair
Has a high deadly sacrifice
She should have listened to him
He should have listened to her
All is lost because of their sinful affair

Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#5080 Dec 19, 2012
She wore lox the color of gold
Uphold this impressive empress
Her style exposed
Blossoms like a rose
And nature is what she controls
The power of her aura alone
Is calling me,'n instantly I'm falling into a twilight zone
Now what's beginning to roam
Are unknown, subliminal thoughts consuming my dome
Regarding possibilities of her you see
In a lacey, cherry robe, or completely in her nudity......
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#5081 Dec 19, 2012
Summer nights fall
Pleasing to my eyes to what I see as I stand here proud and tall
The full moon makes it even hotter in this room
As we both see the full moon
Temperatures rising
Oh so surprising
Baby I know your coming undone
Yet know when it comes to us
Know that we are one
Baby let's not stand on ceremony here
For I'm your man who puts it down so theirs no need to fear..
Full moon whispers has your attention as I caress your back
Sit back baby and relax..
You already know what's coming to you
Yea..
Your man's got that pleasurable sex do
Combined with that wild animal side
Mmmmmmmm...baby..
You can run but you can't hide
Left side
Right side
Which way you want me to slide in
Its your fault..
Your ebony body is full on moon shining with sin
Full moon whispers got you enjoying me as I whisper love note in your ear
Whispers of loves sex sensation
All this what I'm whispering I want you to hear as I'm stroking your body wild yet softly
Left to right
Right to left
Baby you should have known the moment you walked
in this room
With the brightness of the full moon
Everything was set
My loves got you horny and wet
Cruising through you non-stop making you feel good on a high note
She screams
Mmmmmmmmm...baby
So glad I had your vote
Now let me do my job
I quote Quincy Jones - "tell me a secret baby, I don't wanna hear any secret I wanna hear one special secret."
Baby.......whatever it is trust me I will keep it
Whatever treasure you want me to find and unlock
I shall seek it
Whatever confession you want me to confess I'll speak it
All of this while inside your body
Full moon whispers of summer nights intoxication got you feenin
Baby when you look at me what do you see
The moon or me
Tell baby
As I come up close to you naked with warmth and that bottle of southerncomfort
As the full moon is out tonight baby know with all delight
I am your sexual king of temptation with the company of the moon light
Baby tell me something as the full moon whispers in the dark
How would you like to ride me in Central Park
Up and Down
Round and round..

Level 6

Since: Apr 12

Location hidden

#5082 Dec 19, 2012
DeVINE KNIGHT you can get your poetry published. No very many literary persons
come on this forum to appreciate your writing skill. Your first book is sold.

Laura Beth

Since: Aug 09

Location hidden

#5083 Dec 19, 2012
Humhainna wrote :

DeVINE KNIGHT you can get your poetry published. No very many literary persons
come on this forum to appreciate your writing skill. Your first book is sold.

Beth writes :

Each and every poem is published . Why ? Because they are ALL from other writers . It's been a proven fact he steals other poems . Google them yourself . You will find the true poet that wrote each and every poem. Rotflmao .

Love

I love you so much

I can't live without you

My heart flutters everytime I see you post

My hands flutter in excitement

Hardly TYPING enough to write:

I love you, I love you ,I love you

There are not enough songs
that I can obsess on
that say I love you all day long

I never run out of my obsession for your faceless face

I can't wait till I see your ink

I love dreaming about you even though I do not know you

Lover that seems to fuck me through the ink

Emails are all I need

Your WORDS of TOUCH and LOVE are good enough

Phone calls second best to email sex

When will we ever meet ?

My internet faceless face that I do not know

I hope I am first in line
to all the profiles you possess

Surely it is me you love the best

Faceless, nameless ,foe
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#5092 Dec 19, 2012
I’m not sure why i always saw her with you.

even when we were together, even in bed, i felt like

she was there. sometimes, when we would go on walks,

i would lag behind to watch you walk.

you didn’t walk, it was more of a strut, really,

but then she would flash into my head,

and i would know we would never be a close as you two were.

maybe i’m jealous of all the time,

all the experiences, you two had together.

i know you still love her, you always will,

and it’s in a way you will never love me.

she will always have a certain piece of your life, your heart.

i found your old pictures one day, i never told you.

there was a picture of you sleeping in bed.

she must have taken it.

your comforter, the one that we shared too,

the one with her lipstick stain on the corner,

was wrapped around you like a cocoon.

in the picture, above the bed, the bed you two shared,

the bed we shared, was a painting of an apple.

you always told me she was an artist.

i noticed the apple more than you in the picture.

it was perfect, green and reds fading together to a color of innocence.

i never wanted to talk about that picture because

then we would be talking about her again…

but she was always there anyway,

even if we didn’t say a word about her.

i would see you sitting alone and know you were thinking about her,

the way she smelt, the way she tasted. i never thought

i was in her league. maybe that’s why she never went away,

i couldn’t make her go away.

i don’t think she will ever go away for you.

like when you held my hand, i thought

you were thinking about hers and how mine was different.

i know she was always in your head and heart when we would

talk or take a walk or make love, she was there,

staring at me through your eyes. i looked at you and saw her.

then, after i found that picture, i saw why you ate apples every morning.

is that why you ate apples every morning? to remember her?

were you always thinking about her?

she was always there, right next to you.



Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#5093 Dec 19, 2012
Appearing out of the curtains,

you step softly and place a glass of water

next to my bed, pull back the sheets,

smoothing creases to perfect corners,

and set my slippers at the foot of the bed.

in a white slip, you flip through pages of my writing

at the desk in front of the window,

read about yourself, and laugh in ancient beauty.

you stare at me over your shoulder

as i tumble into bed.

you lay your white veil over the lamp

to dim the light for my tired eyes,

kiss the palm of my hand

and let your brown hair float on my face

as you lean in to kiss my forehead.

your straps slide off your shoulders

and i watch your slip fashion to falling folds.

the next day, you return

dressed like a black swan

and drive me to a dreamy alleyway

where you sit on a stone step,

your chin on your knees,

wind whistling in our ears,

and you talk about love and salvation.

you see right through me,

to the confusion,

but you smile with dark eyes and long lashes,

waiting to bring order through innocence.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#5094 Dec 19, 2012
I sit in front of and to the side of

the stones with their icy shine

in the fading echoes of the sun

twilighting over the trembling trees

tracing shadows like the dry dirt

cracking away from the marble

reflections of remembrance.

the silk flowers rip

and the dry flowers rot

as the west nile wind

winds around headstones

and i scratch imaginary itches.

insects sound under a purpled sky

as a shadowed spider

swings and spins its web,

working to wait.

i see their faces in absent stares

with shut eyes and sinking skin,

resting.

the wind whips a red balloon

in random rages on a redder

ribbon that is pulled down

and snaps up and is pulled down

and snaps away from the

sleeping.

decorations of music boxes

and blown out candles,

baby shoes, virgins, flags,

weathered pictures and weeping wreaths

that once asked attention

for those who needed none,

fade in the light and in the night.

i hear silent nursery rhymes

sneaking from lidded cribs

in lonely laments and requiems,

roared and whispered,

riddled with remnants of withered roots.

i hear them singing showtunes,

humming while they put on lipstick,

and praying as they clean their fingernails.

i close my eyes for stoneless sight

and feel them all in the grass between my toes
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#5095 Dec 19, 2012
Not swans or flowers, these tulle-shrouded furies gliding
en pointe, their eyes blank in chignonned heads that lilt
as each glances at the hand curved on her breast,

black-lipsticked mouths hardened as the eyes shift toward
Myrthe, their merciless queen, who tells them yes,
Albrecht too, through his clasped hands beg forgiveness,

love’s betrayers must be danced to death, leapt
and spun till blood cools in his veins. That when tenderness
ghost-flickers those hollows where their hearts once beat,

they must look at that cradled air and remember
the babies denied them. Merciless, their black lips curl
as Myrthe flings Albrecht to his first unearthly partner,

then pirouettes offstage as Giselle’s starring bad-ass.
Acting ugly, said my family’s women when I squirmed
at concert halls like this, itchy in lace skirts,

or tantrummed during yearly perms. Acting ugly,
they’d say about these red-lipped firls in the bathroom
at intermission, blowing smoke and admiring

each other’s baby doll dresses, worn with fishnets
by the taller, whose peroxide-stricken curls droop
to her shoulders. A fucking bore, she pronounces

the ballet, slumps regally against the tiled wall,
a fucking A-1 bore. Their mothers bought the tickets,
bargaining seats for Hole’s next concert, I hear too,

and through smoke glance at the black armband — Kurt Forever —
tied to the blond queen’s sleeve. We both saw his widow
on TV, screaming to mourners in phrases mostly bleeped,

her darkly-painted mouth condemning the ugliest act
she’d known — her husband’s hand caressing his own temple
with a gun’s cold and blue-sheened barrel after years

of their ghost-dance with heroin; and how they wanted
to fly higher than bodies lifted in roiling pits,
than those guitars’ amped keening snarl: Kurt Forever

and never again — an asshole, a fucker — formed
by the lipsticked mouth before footage cut to stills
of their child, eyes blank as the lamb’s propped beside her,

lips parted wide while her blond mother tried to hush
that merciless birth-wail, that transcendent fury
thumping loud and echoed in tiny blood-leaping veins.

Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#5096 Dec 19, 2012
The beggar child mistook my bread for cake,
And I was glad to share my loaf with him,
Having travelled so far from native hates
And loves. My eyes grew vast as the sky’s dome
In that picturesque land, its mountains where
Clouds floated at my feet, where the faint bells
Of invisible herds tinkled like prayers
And I watched a lake’s deep black ebbs and swells—
“Cake,” grasped the little urchin, as if hoarse,
And I offered him another slice, smiled
At his greed until another appeared,
As small, as filthy, his eyes and hair as wild,
To fight him till the prize was crumbs and dirt.

You! Hypocrite voyeur! Ma semblable! Ma sœur!
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#5097 Dec 19, 2012
It is not
the flower
caressing
her ribs
it is not
the vinous
stain on
her lips
how they
blossom
smile and
wilt
it is not
her nails
emerald
cerulean
crimson
or jade
it is not
her bracelets
or anklets
of wind
bright as
the sun
balanced on
her hips
it is not
the feathers
or wings
of her hair
or the waterfall
of sequins
pouring from
her breasts
it is not
her arms
or legs
incarnadine
serpents
it is not
the crowd
or their brazen
ululations
it is not
the howls
of master
or servant
it is
the veil
that will not
be lifted
in the spiral
arcade
of her
dance
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#5098 Dec 19, 2012
The taste of many brittle years already spread
Across paddocks without a drop of rain
Is bitterness profound as Death begins to tread
Upon the graves of names which still remain.
Death is slowly passing through the woods alone
With many kinds of trees becoming prone
To loss of grip among the ageing leaves
Succumbing to the might which Death receives.

The air surrounding Death becomes so strong
As winds impose a sense of might upon each tree.
The branches shaking left and right, belong
To the dance of Death declaring how all things should be.
The curse which came upon the ones who died
With wounds inflicted by the sword of pride
Is kept beneath the ground until the day
Death decides to spread to other forms of prey.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#5099 Dec 19, 2012
I stand resembling a tree
In the meadows of afterlife
Leafless and gloomy
Proud and naked
Neither a fruit do I cultivate
Nor a seed do I let escape
I seep poison through my roots
My branches tear away masks
The meadow faints in my shadow
Other jolly trees, all of you
Harbor a silent hope
Before all the dark torrents
I sent forth to vanquish
Strongholds of sand;
You hope to see me wither
But I stand my ground
And my ground is never weak
I am the son of that night
You all have passed unnoticed
I am sin, I strike in stealth
I am forbidden, for my words are
Known to misguide
I am just a clever man
Who learnt a few tricky words
I am a provocative sight
In the wrinkles and falls
Of my goddess’ cloak
I am draped, in wild
The mercury of moment
In the flow of time
I am the sound of a mistake
And I still stand my ground
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#5100 Dec 19, 2012
I am squalor.

I dwell on the spark of a match that –
Soils the clean shirt of the night.
I am the mist of a dream.
I am a lone pigeon stained by the countryside.
I am puff pastry, I am diet coke.
I am missed trains.
I am “sorry you did not get the job”
I am “this train is being held here to regulate the service”
I am awkward glances
I am the beautiful blossom boy at Stepney Green
I am a broken battered toy, a Slut on the Game
I am an exchanged stare
I am heartache
I am longing
I am your favourite child
I am your worst enemy.

I behold the sun as a foolish man
And force him to surrender his pale daughter
And in doing so I shall sully the corridors of Angel throats’
Just as white waves choke pale sea
Allowing only a tuneless whisper to crawl, note by note
From ‘neath a muted memory.

Leaving what in this wretched merry place?
Only my reprimand.
But should I find that I descend in stature from -
A great wood to a splinter,
Then I shall laugh, laying
In wait, sealed away.

Waiting to strike,
And paint the dark.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#5101 Dec 19, 2012
Once
all i wanted was
marijuana, martinis,
your lips, and champagne
cigarettes, straight teeth,
cold beer, and cocaine
scratch marks and bite marks
and rug burn and slack
now
all i need is a hole
to bury my intimacies in
and these lines
like branches in the sky
with buds like eyes and hunger
and poems like trees
recycling the carbon dioxide
of our suffering
into the poetry of pain

Now I want to be water

I want to be water
bending light
exposing translucent truth
distorted by surface waves

I want to be water
mutable meandering stream
nourishing banks surrounding
trails carved in the dirt

I want to be water
so that flying missiles
break surface tension and
diffuse inside calm insulation

I want to be water
undulating the reflection of the sun
providing respite for blazing heat
extinguishing wild red fires

I want to be water
abundant yet scarce
found in all living things, but
difficult to extract and purify

I want to be water
so you have to go deeper,
deeper, darker into the unknown, searching
for secrets buried in the ocean floor

I want to be water
enveloping, saturating the brave
divers in wetsuits, materializing
in hidden caverns to come up for air

I want to be water
sweeping sediment away from one resource
only to deposit it in another place and time
facilitating growth down the road

I am water
vacillating between ice
and steam, forgetting
the tranquility of my natural state

winter raindrop breaks stone --
glass & wing struggle up in the spark,

exciting a comet cry, a blind
lily spiral across azure distance --

that impetuous petal is annihilated
over a dark field canvas

like an unbroken
Clydesdale gallop -- tempestuous

powder mane casts sparkle & shadow,
silver neck a bullet --

bolt tooth hooks
& synaptic throat gulp snowflakes.

stars burn to still furrow & relaxed lap of water
while I remember ocean,

your arms a cradle into evening,
my back rocking, rocking, a lullaby

hovers somewhere above one's shoulders' slope --
our melody stroking against surface

crest and wane,
asking each other to stay.
Anonymous

The Gap, Australia

#5102 Dec 19, 2012
Intelligent
from what I can tell.
You get words
so right
they write themselves.

Nicole, the way you
get away
with meter,
it's murder.
Such structure.

You're really
adroit.
I don't want
you
misquoted.

Take my
temperature.
Your stanzas
get me weak
in the words.

You're very
astute.
Your vernacular
put me on
a stretcher.

Intercept message.
Your lexicon
ensorcells
my
blood pressure.

You're sweetest
w/ the timbre of
grammar. Your
alliteration quickens
my index.

The way you
reassemble
sentences. I receive
reinvented
sanguine.

You're especially
linguistic. The
way your
punctuation
waltzes.

It's your
forehead full
of contents
that really gets my
heart remixed.

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