A Girl Wants

Exhilarating emotions of a roller coaster gripping the inner folds of her inner being.

Whip lashed as she uncontrollably clenches. Gasps. Clenches. Gags.

A scarlet of a whisper escapes her tenuously parted lips.

Her tongue trembling travels to catch the excess savoring each morsel.

Stretching her joints defacing the bruising of the previous actions.

Aching with the query of release. Satisfaction.

Thoroughly scanning her body, searching for the tender moment of completion.

A sigh ruffled the thinly laced silence.

Unfurling from the safe harbor, wiggling to caress the ease.

Ooh.

A sea of delight as she purrs.

Chocolat.

the Lady pukes her Heart

In retrospect, the Lady failed herself. Letting her dreamy idealism conflict with the reality of sorrow.

Charmed she was to fall for his enigmatic nature. Purposefully ignorant that he wasn't Angel or Edward.

He isn't Mr. Darcy.

Yet, still the Lady fought and wished earnestly to give the benefit of doubt so consumed with knowing they weren't ill-fated.

But soul mates.

Perhaps the peaceful countenance she felt was the haphazard haze of consistent bruising of regret, adoration, agony, relief.

Lust or Love. Or was it a meeting on the metaphysical to transcend into the bedding of the physical?

He knows not who the Lady was. What they do. Who view whats. She knows him not.

Delighting in the clouded mystery.

The Lady was so eager to give her heart and wait for the wind to return.

Still awashed in the short sighted memories that are benign based upon the severity of the circumstances.

Now slightly crushed and her human nature is ruined.

Merely a phantom of the former being.

The Lady's awakening still slumbers.

Under the Radar

He has a beauty that flies under the radar.
Mahogany skin thats almost to dark and never light enough.
Ebony eyes that grasp the betrayal.
He's a calm force that barges in the mundane and demands change.
The timbre in his voice fills with scorn for the emptiness.
His beauty flies under the radar.
He falls constantly yet his muscles bulge from the pressure of walking the line.
He rarely cries.
His smile is fleeting.
He absorbs the world for all its worth and reaches for its soul.
He chuckles. He smirks. He laughs boisteriously.
His beauty flies under the radar.
Always for the people.
Believing in a certain justice.
He isnt a god.
A man. Only a man.
Lithe as a tiger.
His strength lies within his strength.
Flawlessly he projects his flaws.
He isnt God.
He loves.
He cunningly raises his brow and wipes the sweat of trust.
His beauty flies under the radar.

First Rejection

Ok so I entered some of my poetry into random magaznines, etc. I got my first rejection:

Dear 87PageS,

We are sorry to let you know we won’t be using your work in Sweet. Please recognize that the work that appears in any literary magazine is a matter of taste. Thank you for submitting and please keep writing.

Sincerely,
The Editors

---------------------------------------------

I'm a bit confused... what is a matter of taste? Did they mean like it's up to them. If that is it. Understandable. If they mean my poetry is tasteless than. IDK

- But I'm not discouraged just baffled...

Ciao

Tepid

I never wanted it to end this way.
I don't remember wishing for death.
I hated all of it.
For what it stood for.
Favortism. Jealousy. Golden. Envy.
I didn't ask for death. Just to run away.
Heartless and evil you said.
I flinched.
I could smell the loatheness and it scalded my touch as I reached for your shoulder.
This isn't pretend. I didn't mean the words.
The glare within your eyes promised retribution.
Who are we. How did this become. Was it under false pretenses we laughed and joked.
Sincere affections posioned with sibiling rivalry.

A Paradigm Shift

Explanation of the Title
:::Paradigm Shift is a popular, or perhaps, not so popular shift or transformation of the way we Humans perceive events, people, environment, and life altogether. It can be a national or international shift, and could have dramatic effects -- whether positive or negative -- on the way we live our lives today and in the future.::

STOP

Repeat that one more time
Repeat that again
till you feel your
spirit is cleansed
Come out of the closet
but keep space in between

AND

Repeat that one more time
Repeat it over and over again
till your mouth is dry
till your heart palpitates with uneasiness
(is it good?)
Look me in the eyes
but keep your fingers still

ANSWER

Does it feel good
To be victorious
Does it feel good
To be supreme

OR

are you claiming you're done
and its lost its power
shriveled into nothingness
You can't imagine how striking it feels
as it raises and whispers against my skin
Repeat it
Once
Twice
Thrice

KEEP

Does it radiate inside you?
Is the heat cool to the touch?
Repeat it again and again
Are you sickened yet?
or still in bliss?

CONTROL

Repeat it again
Don't keep it bubbled inside
Does it burn like the core of the earth
The magnitude of it all
and
will you run and hide when it gets old
Or will you always take pride in calling me

Nigger.

-- Copyrighted. It belongs to me and the Universe.

No Foreclosure In Sight

I wanna feel like Apple Green & Lilac's and have that "He Went To Jared's" enthusiasm but it's really from Tiffany because he lavishes me in splendor. Yet he knows my spirit and that I'd condone the diamonds with gold. So he climbs into my soul and wields a fiery temper and my bosom swells at the raising of his brow. Separate. Apart. Never lonely. Resisting to be the yin and yang. Delighting in the mysteries. Daring to delve into the darkness of our eyes. Disliking the urge to subdue my quirks he parts my lips and soothes me to the edge of despair. The tempest raging within surround my very being and he lays his head within my lap. Sitting fireside we smile because there is no foreclosure in sight.


-- Copyrighted. It belongs to me and the Universe.