Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,158
- Status
WickedEve
save an apple, eat eve
- Joined
- Oct 20, 2001
- Posts
- 11,470
well... i was reading my older poems that I have saved and they blew me away. i was darn good.I like this. You're back on your game.
i wish i could still write that way. i'm rusty.
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,158
well... i was reading my older poems that I have saved and they blew me away. i was darn good.
That's how I've been feeling, but watching Jamison come back to it and get so good after a month of writing every day convinced me--that's what we have to do. Just keep at it, every day.
Syndra Lynn
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Feb 23, 2004
- Posts
- 907
Every day! OH!
what it was like when I had time to write every day.
Goddess knows I am rusted through. ok. every day.
Syn
V
vampiredust
Guest
Lickable Fuck (Or senses in the age of Cyberpunk)
Cholera-tongued moon,
how you reach me
through London's steampunk
vista of zepellin-round
skyscrapers and lickable
cathedrals. How you reach me
through the labyrinth
of mechanical minotaurs,
and stores where Dante
is on display 24/7. Cholera
tongued moon, how you reach me.
Cholera-tongued moon,
how you reach me
through London's steampunk
vista of zepellin-round
skyscrapers and lickable
cathedrals. How you reach me
through the labyrinth
of mechanical minotaurs,
and stores where Dante
is on display 24/7. Cholera
tongued moon, how you reach me.
Syndra Lynn
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Feb 23, 2004
- Posts
- 907
beauty is forged
with the sweat on my back
the ache in my joints
then you hand me a stone
that crushes delicate petals
to jade
with the sweat on my back
the ache in my joints
then you hand me a stone
that crushes delicate petals
to jade
V
vampiredust
Guest
The syringe of his cock
emptied itself over her tits
and face, a decades-old
wasp sting concealed
under the pixelated smile
and greasy contract.
She would have gotten
him back were it not
for her producer force
feeding her scorpions
for breakfast and cyanide
for lunch.
emptied itself over her tits
and face, a decades-old
wasp sting concealed
under the pixelated smile
and greasy contract.
She would have gotten
him back were it not
for her producer force
feeding her scorpions
for breakfast and cyanide
for lunch.
V
vampiredust
Guest
Endangered
The scrunched up socks
on the bedroom floor
nearly made her weep,
their gorilla faces
reminding her of the time
his camera undressed
her, made her poledance
with a broomstick
and used his cock
as collateral for its sin.
The scrunched up socks
on the bedroom floor
nearly made her weep,
their gorilla faces
reminding her of the time
his camera undressed
her, made her poledance
with a broomstick
and used his cock
as collateral for its sin.
Syndra Lynn
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Feb 23, 2004
- Posts
- 907
the coffee cup sits silently
unspoken words
floating
like slightly curdled cream
i pour a fresh cup
of expression
you swallow me into silence
without thought
bitter
unspoken words
floating
like slightly curdled cream
i pour a fresh cup
of expression
you swallow me into silence
without thought
bitter
annaswirls
Pointy?
- Joined
- Dec 9, 2003
- Posts
- 7,204
Every day! OH!
what it was like when I had time to write every day.
Goddess knows I am rusted through. ok. every day.
Syn
Y'all are not rusted.
And time? Bah. Who needs time?
(trying to convince myself)
get over here, Ange, Eve, Syndra... come on.... if boob leakin sleep deprived post partum mama can do it....(however so clumsily, uninspiredly....)
WickedEve
save an apple, eat eve
- Joined
- Oct 20, 2001
- Posts
- 11,470
V
vampiredust
Guest
Grandmother remembers her husband
Grief drips from the corner
of her mouth. She wipes
it off with a handkerchief
stained with spots of sepia
coloured memories. Clouds
float like lilypads in the sky.
Sometimes she sees him
clinging to them, the way
he clung to the wreckage
of his vessel during World
War Two. She always swims
to him in her dreams, never
knowing she is the current
that dragged him away.
Grief drips from the corner
of her mouth. She wipes
it off with a handkerchief
stained with spots of sepia
coloured memories. Clouds
float like lilypads in the sky.
Sometimes she sees him
clinging to them, the way
he clung to the wreckage
of his vessel during World
War Two. She always swims
to him in her dreams, never
knowing she is the current
that dragged him away.
WickedEve
save an apple, eat eve
- Joined
- Oct 20, 2001
- Posts
- 11,470
A front porch is written while poet sits,
with steps and sunshine
and realization that she is home.
The poem
walks past black dog, sweet
with cedar shavings
and scents. Lilacs bump
breezy-lavender against his kennel's
chained links. Daisies,
or something like daisies,
grow without hands and trowels,
without the watering can. Rain
dampens paper and the pen
isn't noticeably missing
until nightfall.
with steps and sunshine
and realization that she is home.
The poem
walks past black dog, sweet
with cedar shavings
and scents. Lilacs bump
breezy-lavender against his kennel's
chained links. Daisies,
or something like daisies,
grow without hands and trowels,
without the watering can. Rain
dampens paper and the pen
isn't noticeably missing
until nightfall.
Last edited:
V
vampiredust
Guest
Kapow
The baby's screams
fell like the Joker's goons
when its mother's
bloodshot eyes sunk,
as if each word
had reached in the blurred
white and dragged out
that part which had gone
missing at childbirth,
leaving her silently clamoring
for its return.
The baby's screams
fell like the Joker's goons
when its mother's
bloodshot eyes sunk,
as if each word
had reached in the blurred
white and dragged out
that part which had gone
missing at childbirth,
leaving her silently clamoring
for its return.
annaswirls
Pointy?
- Joined
- Dec 9, 2003
- Posts
- 7,204
xxxxxxxxxx
Last edited:
Syndra Lynn
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Feb 23, 2004
- Posts
- 907
questons
what if
the paths we walk
braid back upon themselves
and all our lifetimes
entwine?
can we then leave messages
for ourselves
to find along the road
when next this way
we travel?
and what then
might we tell ourselves?
to be wary of the easy way?
to walk the path of righteousness?
to follow our bliss?
and upon discovery
of said communiqué
would we heed our own advice?
or dismiss it
for origins suspect in nature?
or, what if sage wisdom
no longer fits
the current world view?
can we then change
our view to fit the new?
or can we change the world
to fit wisdom we know
once answered ageless questions
and spun galaxies into cosmos
without end?
and would this be enough?
what if
the paths we walk
braid back upon themselves
and all our lifetimes
entwine?
can we then leave messages
for ourselves
to find along the road
when next this way
we travel?
and what then
might we tell ourselves?
to be wary of the easy way?
to walk the path of righteousness?
to follow our bliss?
and upon discovery
of said communiqué
would we heed our own advice?
or dismiss it
for origins suspect in nature?
or, what if sage wisdom
no longer fits
the current world view?
can we then change
our view to fit the new?
or can we change the world
to fit wisdom we know
once answered ageless questions
and spun galaxies into cosmos
without end?
and would this be enough?
V
vampiredust
Guest
Fog
Fog waltzes like Fred Astaire,
covering the lighthouse
with its translucent glove.
A conjurer that can be seen
for one night only. Front row
seats are best to watch
it make the structure fade
before freezing it like a shot
of stock footage. Observe
it returning to normal
but watch out for that glint
of gold bouncing off the outside
like sunlight on a fish's pulled back
eyeball, that trace of what lurks
elsewhere; constantly spying,
planning. Waiting.
Fog waltzes like Fred Astaire,
covering the lighthouse
with its translucent glove.
A conjurer that can be seen
for one night only. Front row
seats are best to watch
it make the structure fade
before freezing it like a shot
of stock footage. Observe
it returning to normal
but watch out for that glint
of gold bouncing off the outside
like sunlight on a fish's pulled back
eyeball, that trace of what lurks
elsewhere; constantly spying,
planning. Waiting.
V
vampiredust
Guest
Anonymous
First to find the anonymous
woman's passport photos
lying next to the bus stop
was me. Passers-by joined
and together we formed
a circle, spinning her image
in the centrifuge of our heads
to separate all the elements:
Comma-curved eyebrows. Face
tapered like an arrowhead. South
American look. Long dark hair,
straightened. Plain black t-shirt.
We carried them home, each one
staining us with colours longed for.
First to find the anonymous
woman's passport photos
lying next to the bus stop
was me. Passers-by joined
and together we formed
a circle, spinning her image
in the centrifuge of our heads
to separate all the elements:
Comma-curved eyebrows. Face
tapered like an arrowhead. South
American look. Long dark hair,
straightened. Plain black t-shirt.
We carried them home, each one
staining us with colours longed for.
WickedEve
save an apple, eat eve
- Joined
- Oct 20, 2001
- Posts
- 11,470
Maggie has no bed
dappled with morning beams,
no window
nor floorboards, cold
and waiting
for abundant light.
She is without porch
and we wonder why
there is a homeless swing --
canopy lifted high in a windstorm.
Maggie bought a porch swing
for storage,
not for soft, summer sitting,
with iced tea and curling feline
and a good book of sun-warmed pages.
dappled with morning beams,
no window
nor floorboards, cold
and waiting
for abundant light.
She is without porch
and we wonder why
there is a homeless swing --
canopy lifted high in a windstorm.
Maggie bought a porch swing
for storage,
not for soft, summer sitting,
with iced tea and curling feline
and a good book of sun-warmed pages.
annaswirls
Pointy?
- Joined
- Dec 9, 2003
- Posts
- 7,204
sweet William your bottlecaps scatter
and you tell me I am one of thhe best
so why have you not yet deconstructed me
into a pile of blocks
splintered wood alhabet with ponies
and alligators and the occasional cloud shape
why have you not deconstructed me, chisel brother down
down into chips and marble dust
build me, build me back up in your imag
Mr. Williamyou might have been the one
who could do it where did you go?
Iam falling apart no one remembers the order
and you tell me I am one of thhe best
so why have you not yet deconstructed me
into a pile of blocks
splintered wood alhabet with ponies
and alligators and the occasional cloud shape
why have you not deconstructed me, chisel brother down
down into chips and marble dust
build me, build me back up in your imag
Mr. Williamyou might have been the one
who could do it where did you go?
Iam falling apart no one remembers the order
V
vampiredust
Guest
Moon
This is what greeted me first
when I reached my hotel
in Barcelona: a moon choked
by cigarette smoke
being prodded by lunatics
from the city's asylum streets.
One leapt like a goat eager
for new grass, another climbed
himself on to the shoulders
of a taller man and tried
unscrewing it from night's painted
ceiling. They didn't want cash,
just a decent pair of clippers.
This is what greeted me first
when I reached my hotel
in Barcelona: a moon choked
by cigarette smoke
being prodded by lunatics
from the city's asylum streets.
One leapt like a goat eager
for new grass, another climbed
himself on to the shoulders
of a taller man and tried
unscrewing it from night's painted
ceiling. They didn't want cash,
just a decent pair of clippers.
Syndra Lynn
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Feb 23, 2004
- Posts
- 907
anticipation
i will soon know everything
the universe reveals
itself
lifetimes unfold
fantasies complete
galactic spirals find cadence
i await
entry
you
at the opening of me
eager, ever patient
well...
cum home
i will soon know everything
the universe reveals
itself
lifetimes unfold
fantasies complete
galactic spirals find cadence
i await
entry
you
at the opening of me
eager, ever patient
well...
cum home
Syndra Lynn
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Feb 23, 2004
- Posts
- 907
the long thick stroke of you
fills me
as a million stars
fill the night
with passion
beauty, strangled cries
of lust made flesh
Goddess of the Moon!
I am your fuck queen
your willing little sex doll
your swollen, creamy invitation
to the sacred cosmic rites
I was born to ride you, baby
use me well!
slide in hard
forcing
moans into the night
draw out slowly
pulling cords
that spiral
universal chords
from my navel to my cream
make me sing choruses
of grunts and groans and pleas
oh please!
don't stop
don't ever stop
orgasmic bliss cascades
across the chasm
between thrust and draw
breathes me into spasms
where you join me
and we dance
we dance the sacred
cosmic
ritual of unification
fills me
as a million stars
fill the night
with passion
beauty, strangled cries
of lust made flesh
Goddess of the Moon!
I am your fuck queen
your willing little sex doll
your swollen, creamy invitation
to the sacred cosmic rites
I was born to ride you, baby
use me well!
slide in hard
forcing
moans into the night
draw out slowly
pulling cords
that spiral
universal chords
from my navel to my cream
make me sing choruses
of grunts and groans and pleas
oh please!
don't stop
don't ever stop
orgasmic bliss cascades
across the chasm
between thrust and draw
breathes me into spasms
where you join me
and we dance
we dance the sacred
cosmic
ritual of unification
V
vampiredust
Guest
Teenage Kicks
Like actors treading
the boards for the first time
we walked through
the city eager for some kind
of neon kicks. Plugging
ourselves into the electricity
of bars and girls with glossy
lips and eyes that shone yellow
like gibbons we fed on it all.
Gorged, we broke ourselves
apart. Became Picasso's
fragmented models.
Street cleaners swept us up
in the morning. We do
our daily business with only
one eye these days,
the other one staring at us
from somewhere dark and deep.
Like actors treading
the boards for the first time
we walked through
the city eager for some kind
of neon kicks. Plugging
ourselves into the electricity
of bars and girls with glossy
lips and eyes that shone yellow
like gibbons we fed on it all.
Gorged, we broke ourselves
apart. Became Picasso's
fragmented models.
Street cleaners swept us up
in the morning. We do
our daily business with only
one eye these days,
the other one staring at us
from somewhere dark and deep.
normal jean
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Mar 13, 2004
- Posts
- 1,193
for Jim
There are no grand ghosts here
they are small,
with grandiose capes and masks,
they scuttle and blather about
and buzz that buzz
it becomes as a drone
a monotonous hummmmm
that caves with each intake, gasp,
like the last whisper
of a glowing ember
upon its death, the howl
the ranting then surrender.
slingshots made of angels
are crossing hither and there
and knowing how crowds of them
can darken, have darkened, yet
in the midst of it all you disappear.
freely we surrender ourselves
to those who know no better,
they just speak a better game.
There are no grand ghosts here
they are small,
with grandiose capes and masks,
they scuttle and blather about
and buzz that buzz
it becomes as a drone
a monotonous hummmmm
that caves with each intake, gasp,
like the last whisper
of a glowing ember
upon its death, the howl
the ranting then surrender.
slingshots made of angels
are crossing hither and there
and knowing how crowds of them
can darken, have darkened, yet
in the midst of it all you disappear.
freely we surrender ourselves
to those who know no better,
they just speak a better game.
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