all of a sudden passion suddenly

[annaswirls]

you tell me
"be the carpet"
but the only channel I am getting is Disney.
I want sex.

not magic

be the carpet
somethng with demi moore and tom cruise or was it rob lowe
on the carpet
double set of headphones fucking
deep
into the carpet be the carpet
demi heartbroken
tom-rob's elbows burn on my fibers but I am not the carpet

I am the wall

no
not even the fly on the wall
or mosquito


on the ass of the new brat pack
all cougared out
fathered out
one two three
the boys coming home from the war are my boys
not my brothers
or fathers they are my boys

marching across the rug
red
no
oval
no
carpet
can
be
this nervous

 

[vampiredust]

Feast

She is curved like a spoon
and I am straight as a knife.

The unborn presses the fork
of his head against the womb

when I run my hand along
the skin, wanting the feast

to begin. But I have nothing
to offer him - my pockets

are full of bones, my stomach
parched after years of drought.

 

[Many Feathers]

Hey...

WILDSWEETONE!!!!!!

Book's gone to press, and you're mentioned in it.

http://forum.literotica.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=906438&d=1234129001

 

[miss_trust]

ponderous and pendulous fleshy sigh
great and deep the shallowness of it
fury prickles making naked swatches dance
to attention and sleep deeply tensing
by way of a synapse firing
wrong time wrong place
breath and visions against a glass
made of eyes, teeth, tongue and lash
say my name so i know i'm alone

 

[miss_trust]

noon and then

"It's a shadow,"
says the girl with the spyglass
"But it's noon,"
surly little bear with the missing ear
"Then it's a ghost,"
she's not giving up, it must be something
"Pshaw - those aren't real: you can't hug them,"
George is missing some fur on one paw
"But I can hug you, I can hear you, you have a heart don't you?"
she's smaller than she should be but she's not a should-be
"You always could, couldn't you..."
he's sitting closer now, this will change things after noon
"So you're real - you're George and you don't see ghosts,"
doesn't she know there's a phantom nearing?
"No, Jess, I'm not real but I'm no ghost either. My stuffing has no life,"
here, at the edge of the lawn, wishes come and go like tadpoles and dragonflies
"But you keep me safe from shadows and ghosts and bad dreams - you're real, George,"
growing up in the grass, spoken and now not needed - surly little bear and his shadow

 

[annaswirls]

She sounded younger on the phone
we flitted pleasantries trying to figure
a place to meet, to do the drop off.

"Old Town" I started.
Near Southwestern.
She is in old town too.
We zoom in the town map
soon she is there,
in the apartments
just over the fence
across my back yard.

Hey I could lean out my window and yell this to you!
We laugh.
We see if our kids have the same teachers.
We talk about babysitters and playdates.
We joke about the tracks and the stray cats,
what is on special at HEB and are the trains
running again?

Later she asks
Do you have animals?

Just a dog.

No, something else, like a wild animal or something,
it makes a strange noise.

Silence.

Oh.
That.
That is my son.

Silence.

Yeah.
He makes strange noises.


I try to laugh, to make a joke of
trampoline screams and dirt juggle moans
"My toy is sticky my toy is wet my toy is missing"
cries. Not like a normal cry. More like--
an animal cry yes. Swing set euphoria hoooting
and whooping and shriek.

Yes. That is ours in the back yard.
He is ours in the back yard.
I am sorry.
Sometimes it gets too much.
I just can't bring myself
to quiet him down.
Sometimes it is too much,
I hide behind the door
Sometimes it is too much
for him to hold it together another minute.

She sounded prettier on the phone.
Needless to say, she never called back
for that playdate.
There is, you know,
a wild animal in the back yard.

 

[annaswirls]

poetry critique

"there's flowers and corpses
dancing the tango
on the piano in my mind"

I think you mean
"There ARE flowers and corpses?"

I am opening a window to my soul
and you are correcting my grammer?

Someone has to.
And it is grammar.

But it is a lovely image, really
I can see, the dead with red roses in their teeth
dry bones dipped low,
I can almost hear tune of the barrel organs
coming from your piano.
Buenos Aires, good air,
fair winds.

It is all quite lovely. Really.
But would be much better
if your verbs agreed with their nouns
and your letters agreed with their maker
Chest-to-chest left leg between thigh
eye-to-eye let function and feeling step, step
glide.


"Shhhh, you'll wake Mary!"

 

[CharleyH]

Something I was working on for the Survivor challenge:

There's a woman in the glass
Who feeds birds from hand
She's a lonely withered widow
Who wishes for her man

She has magic in her pocket
And has love in her heart
She might bring him back
With some alchemic art

She mixes lust, iron and gold
Diamonds, passion, and glitter
But he doesn't listen to her
He's dead, and she's bitter.

lol - sorry that it's dark

 

[vampiredust]

Road Trip with the Tin Man


Miles and miles to go, and I haven't
yet thought of the words to describe
the hurt. Stars are wrapped around
a full moon, making a helter skelter
for me to slide down. Distractions
are easy to swallow in this hour,
unlike the tang of rust I taste
whenever I see you, O father.
You are made of metal, and saying
cruel things - how I would never
amount to anything, how I was never
your son - loosen your seams,
making you vulnerable to the oxygen
that stands up for me. Listen
to the small man inside - it is tired
of repairing your broken panels
and wants to go back home.

 

[bluebell]

The point
is for the raw
to thicken into
the shape carved out for it.

This is how the world works-
form births form and
the rest grows into the edges.

I did this.
Have done. Am doing.
My cars
my breasts
my sleep
my life.

Spread fingers
to feel along the outline
and to slowly,
haltingly,
accommodate.

A new lens
for looking at the sky
pegged down and tarp-like,
rumbles up from the ether
and now I must limber in.

 

[vampiredust]

Small Things

For years, I rolled around London
like a ball bearing; stopping briefly
to notice how, for instance, trees
were thin as snooker cues in winter,

how the local high street, frozen,
resembled a creature preserved
in formaldehyde. Still. These moments
were few since I was always ready

to rush through adulthood without
stopping to look at the smaller things.
My eyes have opened, and my hands
have formed a jar. Watch them collect.

 

[champagne1982]

Be swift sweet kindness
that will take this day
long away and return
lost freedom

To know the end
of suffered days
and nights so filled
with time

To reflect this unsought
death as life escapes
the burden of awake
yet sleep

Will come with mercy.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

One of those.

Perhaps it was innate caution
that caused me to pause.
Always attracted to the bad boy look,
sarcastic Lennon lips dripping cool,
reptile eyes missing nothing worth noting.
His lean hands gripped me first as they broke
open a lobster and I felt the crack.
“Look up" they said and his eyes
were on mine. How’dee do,
want to have a thing, a fling?
they said, dropping six inches.

 

[annaswirls]

I forgot where I was

 

[bflagsst]

maybe in the caves
where Basho was born
there are hidden pains
and labours of love
long forgotten,

for one hundred years
before Basho,
he built the language
in which we lie,
in which we toddle by
within his ink stains
and birth pangs.

----
Today I was thinking about how Basho has his own BardLike monuments all over Japan and how different the two are. One expanded the language, made it respectable. The other simplified a language. I'm already worried that I don't get to change what I wrote.

 

[annaswirls]

I line up the hand soap bottles
one from the guest room, the boys bathroom,
master bathroom, kitchen
and fill them tip top with milk and honey
in faith
Faith that visitors will come again
faith that life will continue to forgive our mistakes
and let us go on
to the bottom of the bottle
knowing one day they will be gone
gone

 

[RhymeFairy]

off the hip
the thigh, silky, golden
come
get'


me
taste this paradise, this

luxury of the
unknown ......

................

I wait, crimson nails
curled. crucified from cringing
crying, the wait
the wait

unknown,
mystery intensified
from


longings, to sink - waist
deep. withering in passion
drinking - crisps cup
curling, slinking
slithering bodies bend

.... begetting
taking
tasting
drinking their fill. fantasies erupt

riding at midnight
mane pulled, steering from left
right
paths taken, ploughing
rutting, rough housing

a wild buck riding.
tight fisted
mount. mimicking
nights passed filled with the illusion

of love
as hysterical wall climbing, biting, nipping
moans

float
to roof tops. no

glancing back
begging for release. come get-me
glances bounce from eyes
filled with hope
love
and loneliness,
from the wait
the when will he cum

for me ....



....

 

[Many Feathers]

Always nice to see...

off the hip
the thigh, silky, golden
come
get'


me
taste this paradise, this

luxury of the
unknown ......

................

I wait, crimson nails
curled. crucified from cringing
crying, the wait
the wait

unknown,
mystery intensified
from


longings, to sink - waist
deep. withering in passion
drinking - crisps cup
curling, slinking
slithering bodies bend

.... begetting
taking
tasting
drinking their fill. fantasies erupt

riding at midnight
mane pulled, steering from left
right
paths taken, ploughing
rutting, rough housing

a wild buck riding.
tight fisted
mount. mimicking
nights passed filled with the illusion

of love
as hysterical wall climbing, biting, nipping
moans

float
to roof tops. no

glancing back
begging for release. come get-me
glances bounce from eyes
filled with hope
love
and loneliness,
from the wait
the when will he cum

for me ....



....

My dear sweet buddy all nice and horny again.

 

[vampiredust]

Language as a Revolution

The world revolves
like washing machines -

trees, earth, sky
and clouds spin, spin,
spin until they are broken
down into components

to be remade by our
tongues. Language
is more powerful
than the gun or flame,

it makes things real
or
not depending on whether
you choose to utter its name.

How many times
have I stared at my reflection
and muttered Ghost! Ghost! Ghost!

 

[RhymeFairy]

My dear sweet buddy all nice and horny again.

Mmmm, a long sweet
ride. Wishing to settle in

and taste the unknown. The forbidden
afterthought of what
has not been. A long
slow
easy ride
then a rough
push ass ploughing
the fields
taste
the sweat
to regenerate
re-take what
once was a thought
a mystery
left untouched. To take in hand and stand
tall tell touch me not
stories
in the dark


of night. a vision standing tall
a taste, touch
a titillating talisman
of what once was. Mine

for the taking

waiting, my grasp only

a heartbeat away from the telling
the living
the


let-up
crouch of today. Ticking away
every moment of the clock, one
heartbeat
at a time ....





missed you !!!!

 

[WickedEve]

lovely odd with cat eye glasses

"phrenology is my head game,"
then a kiss landed
there,
alit like a mechanical swallow,
storm-wet,
rusting atop me.

she wore a mottled lavender slip
of a dress and,
of course, her eyes

were dove gray. we drank pale green
tea from cups
placed gingerly on finch yellow linens,
and the whole time

I stared into her dove gray eyes,
wanting her to finger
my scalp's
relief map, to read the swells

beneath my head skin. "ice,
a winter curiosity
when you're little deer box number six,"
then she fell to the floor,
much like a piece of pomegranate lace.

 

[bogusagain]

as if the mirror would lie
she sees what I see, feels what I feel
the wretchedness of being human
promises, always promises
refuse to take shape

das ist doch ein blurtzen
my only German, school years were wasted
she wrote me a poem
after all these years, I have yet to decipher
she said it would keep me company

she lives and loves in Hanover
I stare from the train, on route to Berlin
her reflection in the window
teases between building and sky
a flittering candle, a fragile beacon

in Paris she burnt bright
the holy light of Notre Dame
her Latin looks and German tongue
gave her a complexity, love
a cheap hotel off Boulevard de Clichy

Hanover has remained a question mark
a city I pass quickly through
shadowed beneath the weight of another man
her image breaking up, a finger dipped
into the surface water of memory

 

[vampiredust]

Father Icarus

He hung a teaspoon
on the door instead
of a hat, fed us mud
instead of porridge.

At night we heard him
squirm in the confines
of a bed too small
for his page-like frame.

The dreams produced
were too big for his head
and often dripped through
the ceiling. One morning

I woke with men marching
on my lap. Another,
with giant ants, paprika-red.
The day he left, I found

him by my window, wearing
an Icarus suit, desperate
to fly even though the feathers
had been melted to his skin.

 

[vampiredust]

Holden Caulfield Considers His Life, Aged 60


Spring. The fields have exploded
in a cancer of white and yellow stars.

Now I am getting old, love and sex
are slipping through my fingers
like runny eggs.

Months until summer and the flowers'
retreat into the migraine coloured earth.
Perhaps if I press my head against it,
I will feel their constant throbbing,

like lightbulbs fizzing with too much voltage.
And my heart doing the opposite, waning
like a moon; eager to retreat into the comfort
of a familiar darkness.

 

[RhymeFairy]

each day, is a testament
to the wait
the excruciating wait

our journey started months, half moons
ago
when six was a number each thought
a laugh
a yeah right, like it will be six calendar
counts till
the day
comes, till we
cum

together, as one
finally we will catch that waves
surf
the waters, red
for passion - imprinted from birth has led us
to here
this moment
this day,
as two shall finally

become one. naked desire leads us on a daily
pilgrimage
a call, a text
a moment in time
as we share everything in the past
and ring around
roughing neck deep in raspy waters too deep
to swim, we know only
the fight will be worth
the wait.



.....