13 o'clock ( dark-er poetry)

[flyguy69]

Whose closet were you in? There are no pj's here

More importantly, whose pj's was I wearing while I was in there?

Sorry, Mrs. Champagne, I was just... umm... returning a book I borrowed from your daughter!

 

[Maria2394]

this thread is an all inspiring sensual blessing... wrote a new one erotica bliss ...you all
quicken the muse ...

Charming Words

You roll off my mind
like buttered rum,
melting inside
this auric dreamscape.

Words soft and
smooth ,
pressed from
dreamy lips soothe
ravening nymph within.

You tussle a slick
tongue warmed
from a hearth of winter.

Embers warm me
till the moments sizzle
and substance drizzles
in fluency.

hey blue
as much as you have enjoyed writing on this thread, I have enjoyed the fruits of your dark-er muse and I hope he/she( the muse-thang) hangs around a long while

 

[bluerains]

hey blue
as much as you have enjoyed writing on this thread, I have enjoyed the fruits of your dark-er muse and I hope he/she( the muse-thang) hangs around a long while

with inspiration like you...I will give it whirl or two ...thanks Maria..as 1201 says..you certainly ROCK..

 

[bluerains]

no title yet...but, I love 13

Beneath a pale unicorn moon
unfurled by its thirteenth hour
sanguine siren pauses,
bejeweled and naked languishing
in water peaks cresting against her
seraphic golden limbs.

Neptune flows between honeyed thighs
as midnight tides rise around
timeless hourglass of symmetrical perfection.

Slivers of magnetic moon beams
cast shadows over aqueous cleavage as
casanova wolf howls rage in briny ripples.

Nature begs embrace in sea swells
as thermal currents cull the fiery brand
into fathoms of her abyssal chamber.

Hungry voracious thirst,
in ecliptic eddies orbit
the carnal undertow;
vermilion titan unshackles
her phoenix.

 

[Maria2394]

Nature begs embrace in sea swells
as thermal currents cull the fiery brand
into fathoms of her abyssal chamber.

the whole poem is wow!! hot and silky, butI LOVED this part especially

 

[annaswirls]

Darkness is easy to come by
harder to let go,
no matter what the hour.

Not anger
nor hatred
or judgement plague my sleep,
just this desire to skin down
everything that passes
and taste it from the inside.

Just the longing
to be deconstructed
piece by piece, and stitched
together with the thread of my neighbors.

I can feel the pierce through skin.
Every puncture brings me closer to you,
closer to this patchwork woman
with movable parts.

Snip the seal from my eyes
open wide my lips cemented by your passions
grease my parts
and ship me to the highest bidder.

 

[quietpoet]

You ALL are just too good!!!

The Party

Sweat permeates, crawling through tangled torsos,
sliding over moist breasts and now spent nakedness,
half open eyes monitor a shrouded restroom light.

Dull internal pressure builds as a lithe hand rises,
weakly blocking my 13th hour passage. Aphrodite
pulls me down to her wanton mouth, needing.

Familiar tingles force my chest to tremble,
firm nipples find each other drawn, sudden desire
flows deeply, competing primeval urges.

Flaxen hair entwines my shoulders,
binding me to this unexpected fate
as the once crowded room fades into black.

A protest enters my conflicted mind,
silenced by her finger across rose lips
pain dissipates, warmth spreads below.

Her finger gently pushed aside by the softest tongue,
parting old inhibitions like a warm butter knife,
blanketing the once ending party with only now.




"Patriotism is the last refuge of the scoundrel"
Samuel Johnson... 1775

 

[ishtat]

The Stroke of One

I was wheeled out today
onto the verandah.
"nice bit of sun"
answered nurse to herself.
"You just sit quiet".
a pat on the hand for good dog patient
"That's the way Mrs Mack"
and she clumped softly back
to linoleum and disinfectant.

Mrs Mack. They don't call me Dr Mack any more
Dr is a white coat god-man.
He pats my hands too,
checking their uselessness,
talks about me while I'm still here.
godman sits on my bed.
I do not like that.
My mind knows, pushes him
but eyes and body neither see nor move,
and speech stumbles at the first thought.

Three months now.
I felt so unwell
just got to the phone
and rang emergency.
My next memory was
the ambulance man, he said,
"she must have phoned
at the stroke of one".
His wit unintended
and a broken, undead old woman
laughs. In silence.

 

[Guest]

I was wheeled out today
onto the verandah.
"nice bit of sun"
answered nurse to herself.
"You just sit quiet".
a pat on the hand for good dog patient
"That's the way Mrs Mack"
and she clumped softly back
to linoleum and disinfectant.

Mrs Mack. They don't call me Dr Mack any more
Dr is a white coat god-man.
He pats my hands too,
checking their uselessness,
talks about me while I'm still here.
godman sits on my bed.
I do not like that.
My mind knows, pushes him
but eyes and body neither see nor move,
and speech stumbles at the first thought.

Three months now.
I felt so unwell
just got to the phone
and rang emergency.
My next memory was
the ambulance man, he said,
"she must have phoned
at the stroke of one".
His wit unintended
and a broken, undead old woman
laughs. In silence.

Wow! I love this!

for Doctor Mack.

 

[eagleyez]

behold the roiling sea,
so many of my fingers floating away
towards vespers of hymns, dark nighted and
blue-blacked, somehow beautifully sad
across horizons that have always
miraged me, while shorebirds hop on one leg
as down comes the blade,
pinkie tossed,
ring finger next-
a sandshark brushes
my leg and I feed him my blood
which he spits into the foam.

 

[Angeline]

The worst part was the pawn shop,
such an ignominious end to my hope
chest where I packed a child's dreams,
years of clipping tiny sofas and lamps
from the Sears catalogue, pasting them
on construction paper, thinking
this is where the bed, the bureau
will be, and I wrapped those wishes
in the softest cotton, sprinkled lavender
buds between them. I tried to keep them
sweet as Grandma's linen closet,
but years later they all flew out
bleeding Pandora screams, shrilled
to the clink of a ring on the smudged
glass of a display case. They rolled
to finality, to silence, settled
in an anonymous corner
next to someone else's memories.

 

[BooMerengue]

The worst part was the pawn shop,
such an ignominious end to my hope
chest where I packed a child's dreams,
years of clipping tiny sofas and lamps
from the Sears catalogue, pasting them
on construction paper, thinking
this is where the bed, the bureau
will be, and I wrapped those wishes
in the softest cotton, sprinkled lavender
buds between them. I tried to keep them
sweet as Grandma's linen closet,
but years later they all flew out
bleeding Pandora screams, shrilled
to the clink of a ring on the smudged
glass of a display case. They rolled
to finality, to silence, settled
in an anonymous corner
next to someone else's memories.

This pisses me off!!! Aaarrgggghhhhhhyh!!!!

I can't DO this! I have lots of sad things to write about. But nooOOOoooo! when Ange writes them I get choked up; when I write them I puke! ugh sooo frustrating!

Ange? Will you be my ghost writer?

 

[Angeline]

This pisses me off!!! Aaarrgggghhhhhhyh!!!!

I can't DO this! I have lots of sad things to write about. But nooOOOoooo! when Ange writes them I get choked up; when I write them I puke! ugh sooo frustrating!

Ange? Will you be my ghost writer?

stop whining and write you bitch! pm me the poem and we'll tawk, yknow? oh, ps--i love you sis

 

[BooMerengue]

stop whining and write you bitch! pm me the poem and we'll tawk, yknow? oh, ps--i love you sis

I love you, too, you 'nother bitch!

You saw it last night and walked right past it. When you were schmooozing on the Picathon thread...

 

[BooMerengue]

if we whisper does that mean we ain't hi jacking??

 

[Angeline]

I love you, too, you 'nother bitch!

You saw it last night and walked right past it. When you were schmooozing on the Picathon thread...

I'm sorry. Schmooze is my maiden name. Angeline Schmoozewitz

 

[BooMerengue]

I'm sorry. Schmooze is my maiden name. Angeline Schmoozewitz

Don't make me laugh when I'm trying to be miffed. It isn't kosher.

 

[bluerains]

far far cry

She sheds venom in
canopy clouds cleasing her
gypsy moon in silent strip tease .

Her ancient diary, a hand traced
signature , littered with
poetized treasures of
innocent hopes , now brushed
in black blotted jet trails .

Shadows of teared myst
temper burning scribbles
as ripped pages falling
from bruised cheeks
fade into
ambrosia rainbows.
Her remains , a sky-riders
ghostly reminder
painted in clouds
of muted skies.

 

[bluerains]

american pie

candy coated confections stirred
into the midnight oil
provide sustenance to crawling
people creatures of awareness
shredding shields of pubescence
as erotic playthings build
candy castles with sweet violet

and she in her dainty appearance
pollenate the blossoms of spring
unaware that she was just their pastry

 

[RhymeFairy]

13th Hour~

midnight falls
dark eeriness surrounds
standing upon
the moons shadow
creatures of the night
come out to play

blood thirsty vamps
snicker and snarl their want
coming to feast on the carcasses
of the lonely and sad
suckling all their life's blood
sharp fangs dip
again an again
licking
sucking
smuggling their booty
back to the caves
of eternal damnation

soulless demons flying high
brains and
knowledge is their lovers delight
seeking all who dare to venture out
past the thirteenth hour
capturing them
with a sharpened blade
wrapping tight
their bounteous prey
carrying away to the hidden caves

slicing and chopping
body parts fly
trying to get to the brains inside
blood runs over
the caves darkened floors
pouring out
dripping through the grooves
of the moons rocky surface

so look long and hard
my friend
outside your window
the moon shines bright
is it red
tonight?

 

[bluerains]

after midnight...

burn your midnight oil
in web divinity
and infuse my skin
with your keystrokes
as if I were quicksilver
moistening your fingertips
use your molten tongue
writing verse and
stirring elements into
beads of breaking threads
so your temperature
can disentangle
final cracks in the mirror
of my controls
while I pause on your
silent screensaver
and savor the beauty
of your smile

still need tweeking..

 

[quietpoet]

do you have to remind me

burn your midnight oil
in web divinity
and infuse my skin
with your keystrokes
as if I were quicksilver
moistening your fingertips
use your molten tongue
writing verse and
stirring elements into
beads of breaking threads
so your temperature
can disentangle
final cracks in the mirror
of my controls
while I pause on your
silent screensaver
and savor the beauty
of your smile

still need tweeking..

we have two computers...u bad girl...

 

[bluerains]

ouy

we have two computers...u bad girl...

pen me baby pen me....

 

[Guest]

Stillborn Poems

In the dark before
the grey line of light
that is dawn I write
my best stuff but by sunrise
it is only vague.fragments
and crazed ideas
closed eyes retrieve the night
but still like elusive dreams
they hide from me
never meant to be.

 

[champagne1982]

I have no dark thirteen o'clock
black thoughts or poetry
hiding where I fear to reach,
I fear to peek
inside someone else's night
and see my face staring back.

It's all made up to satisfy
that bloodthirsty call
for dreamtime fleshy handfuls,
dreamy mouthfuls
where footprints sink
deep inside my mind.

Don't worry that depression
is a stranger to your heart
and even more, a salesman
you can slam the door on
they've no business
inside your psyche,
and you've no business
welcoming them.