writing live

[tungtied2u]

what does it mean
to become a survivor
does the sun seem brighter
music sound sweeter
your pulse become more apparent

or does the close brush of lips
from the cold kiss of death
makes its mark indelibly
upon your fragile psyche

do you cross streets more carefully
hold hugs slightly longer
savor wine and sunsets 'til completion
as if it's your last

does your appreciation grow more
from what you have
or what you may lose

 

[EriAliSaa]

sweet slumber

i want to know better
my pillow
the sweet embrace
goose down supporting my head

i would like to dance closely
to my matteress
caress me so gently
my pillow topped king

i wish to slip on
my satin sheets
smoothly sliding between them
the top one cascading until it clings lightly to my curves

i desire to kiss
the sandman
his hypnotic touch
sending me straight to oblivion

but only is my littke girl can sleeps too.

 

[wildsweetone]

Grandad's day

the answer lay in his fingertips
the way he held them just so
on his lap as if he were ready
to carry something, perhaps
the coins that always jingled
in his pocket. those fingertips

often tinkered under the bonnet
of his old V8. I never knew
what he was doing under there
he'd mumble and lift out the oil
gauge, squint as he held it straight

up into the sun and then swear
when it dripped on his overalls.
He hated oil on his overalls
because Grandma always bitched.

He often went indoors after dark
and I reckon it was so she couldn't see
the dark splotches on his clothes. But
she had this way of knowing

so I never offered to help, until now.

 

[RhymeFairy]

His smell still lingers.
Like Georgia peaches
in full ripened bloom.
Pungent to the nostrils
making my hormones flare
into form. Anticipation is the word
the action that makes my clit
tighten, wanting ... awaiting
the suckling as sweet tasty juices
run free and slide ...

 

[HotKittySpank]

no one is building anything
the hammers have fallen silent
nails litter the ground,
tiny daggers unused daggers

where are the wrenches
that tighten things up
the frames are creaking

where are the rules
the tape mesures, sliding over lines
the metalic sounds of busy bees
too short, too long, just right

i miss the roach coach
its disgusting concoctions brewing
the milling about on break

the busy workers slaving in the heat
their muscles bulging
with the buildings they create

where are these monuments
these great architectural feats
the builders have ceased

i miss the noise, the rush
that it all creates

 

[KittenishJane]

I Won't Room with Mona

.....

 

[RhymeFairy]

passion spent
on working days
kids at night
no time left
down for the fight

all that's left
tired muscles, body and mind.
reasoning left, at the door.
output no match for input
just stand aside, I do it all.

chasing my tail
work work work
when I want to write
all that comes out
blah blah blah

writing live
rerun adventure
hit rewind
start this show again

 

[tungtied2u]

it's nice to know you care
enough to play detective
shadow my pseudonyms
stalk sentences,
peering into past imperfect
tense, with preposition
dangling

The evidence speaks
although vague,
meataphors mixed
neither supported or enhanced
by action or experience
just smoke and mirrors
a mere glimpse behind
a non-existent reflection

 

[KittenishJane]

.....

 

[giant_dripping_pussy]

You call that a dildo?

Back in the day,
we'd walk fifty-two miles
across the backs of horned desert piranhas,

just to get to the big woods.
And what our axes couldn't fell,
we'd recruit fat beavers
to finish them off.

Then my sisters and I
would lug those thick logs home
and rub them smooth
of splinters.

Oh, we'd whittle day and night,
crafting the finest woohoo plungers
in the land.

 

[annaswirls]

I am so disturbed by your name
I expect to see a gant dripping stalagmite under your post
I want to order you plumbing services
I worry for your basement

 

[KittenishJane]

.....

 

[HotKittySpank]

green a favorite
j she calmly waits
8 months until it comes again
black to claim
jenny, a best friend
9 those stars upon toes
california in a dream
lake my private ocean
the promise published

 

[HotKittySpank]

evening's shadow longs
to dress this night in finery
of highest quality black satin
she slides along the ground
in chase of light
to surround us in a cool embrace
we hide snuggled among her
stealing sweet nothings
until day begins to break

...

 

[WickedEve]

.....

 

[Liar]

No rest for the wicked, they say.
But
I'm not
this fucking wicked.

(am I?)

Or maybe it's just cause
and effect repeating,
until battling with early hours is impurity
by definition.

The pious sleep,
and the sinners burn midnight oil
on saccarine buzz.

Bless me, Sandman,
for I've been bad.

 

[WickedEve]

.....

 

[KittenishJane]

.....

 

[WickedEve]

.....

 

[RhymeFairy]

when I was seven ...


looking like elephant ears but bigger.
green, poignant leaves curling,
taking ones breath
with the twisting turns,
row after row.

horn worms homing in, eating
till their digestive system
erupted, excreting tobacco juice slime
burning to the touch
and deadly to the senses.

I was told to snap the flowers off.
beheaded stalks lay in rows.
pretty pink flowers, shucked
sliced like a that japanese cook
on the corner, chop, chop
chop. fast as you can go.

the ground lay riddled, while blistering
fingers burnt, bled and ached. all this,
devastation. a system devised to top
tobacco. only, topping it, meant death
to all the pretty pink flowers.

 

[wildsweetone]

B

time is my enemy
i know it in my heart
but i want to write
about you
about the wonderful you
the you that carries
your daughter's heart
deep in your soul, the you
that loves so
hard that you have stepped back
and allowed the world
to move in. i want
to write how your silence
moves me, how your love
glows like some funky aurora
around your body. there's no denying
you anymore and no you avoiding
my pen.

 

[RhymeFairy]

They all write
of everyday things. I write
from the heart and even
some fears.

~~~


I talk of days, nights
turning to mush
for without my love
I am a lush.

Sickness pays call
to my door.
While I shout and scream,
she is nothing but a whore.

Children running amuck
in this house I call home.
Leaving nothing but a'mess
listen, while I groan.

Work is a blast, it gives me
something to do.
When all I can do is think
of screwing you.

I thrift my days off
finding the deal of a lifetime.
Imagining taking my rough 'n tough
man from behind.

Bubble baths
bring nothing but bliss.
Dreams turning my stud
into a lil frisky fish.


While writing and talking
are fine for some.
Give me a lifetime of reality
with him whatever may come ...

 

[KittenishJane]

......

 

[KittenishJane]

.....

 

[KittenishJane]

......