my poetry
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my poetry clips
Ten Things That Ran Through My Mind the First Time I Ate Her Pussy
funbaggery: Just smother me while I snap tendons and fracture my hands grappling with your ridiculous jumbo titties.
edgeofdesiire: (via myheartbelongstoyou) Today is Tuesday.My classes prevented me from sleeping in.I didn’t have breakfast.But I did talk about you.I’m waiting for the day I need to have a dosage.All I can think isone more time from the
edgeofdesiiire: underneaththissmiile: (via lonelyheart) favorite quote, of all time. My heart is ugly, but it could be all yours.
My goal for the spring
My mother warned me Of the girl born out of flame Summoner of fire But no faith or cold restraint Could prepare for this desire ~Arjay Eiff submissivecdjackie: ~ More Of My Life Long Love Affair With Beautiful Sexy Redheads ~
fallen-into-her-arms: Hands held back… …knees on the floor. I present myself… … to the woman I adore. Head bowed… …I wait to please her. She approaches… …I can hear an amused purr. Her hand petting… …then gripping my hair. Pulling
My November Guest
My Soul Is Dark
x-heliotropic: I knew exactly what love looked like – in seventh grade Even though I hadn’t met love yet, if love had wandered into my homeroom, I would’ve recognized him at first glance. Love wore a hemp necklace. I would’ve recognized her
My poetry
goodluck-godspeed: It starts small The shape of your teeth The smell of your hair The skin above your leather boots The raised veins all over your hands Your weathered vest One single silver bangle A permanent song in my head The curve of your neck when
poetrystudios:Well, I love jumping rope. But it never works out in my favor. Lol
fireandsteelofangels: “I clutch you the devotion etched in my bones causing the cage to shake as my heart leaps from my chest into your warm embrace it’s you that I trust, that I need that if given time I could love and darling, I’m already halfway
fireandsteelofangels:“my trembling hands reaching out to touch yours and we find hope within the blinding dark” — and courage within our hearts by Abby S
gaugua: “My gods are different now. Angry, they listen, ghost, the way pain bends, separates body from need—” — Cherries in the Teeth of the Once Dead, Shannon Elizabeth Hardwick (via kxowledge)
somnoroasa: “be honest. the wounds have been bearable thus far. & who isn’t bruised around the edges, peaches poured into the truckbed, receipts faded to white? i have only ever wanted to bite down hard on whatever was offered to my hot, grasping
lifeinpoetry: “I want them all out of my body. Get out. Get out.” — Joanna C. Valente, from “A Spell for Reversal,” published in ENTROPY
the château of my heart
lifeinpoetry: “i want i want i want i want i want am i repulsive in my wanting” — Liz Bowen, from “jameson,” Sugarblood
my body; the exit wound
lifeinpoetry: “I was / just a body I didn’t know.” — Anna Meister, from “My Own Hell to Raise,” published in glitterature for the mobs
lifeinpoetry: “There is nothing more / pleasurable to me / than my ardent unavailability.” — Amy Key, from “My narrative costume is a witch without reputation,” Spells: 21st Century Occult Poetry
venettaoctavia: “You are shaking fists & trembling teeth. I know: You did not mean to be cruel. That does not mean you were kind.” — Venetta Octavia, excerpt of “THE BURNING”, from my chapbook, “What We Left Behind”
violentwavesofemotion: Vladimir Mayakovsky, tr. by Daniel Weissbort from “At The Top of my Voice,”
aridante:“I would like to step out of my heart and go walking beneath the enormous sky.” — The Selected Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke, ‘Lament’ tr. Stephen Mitchell
feral-ballad:This morning I woke up so in love with you I didn’t know what to do with my body, which was far from yours… I don’t know how this happened. I just woke up one morning and you were the blood in all my poems.Clementine Von Radics, from
incidentalcomics: Understanding Poetry (after Mark Strand)This comic appears in my new book, I WILL JUDGE YOU BY YOUR BOOKSHELF. You can order it from your favorite local bookstore, or find it online wherever you get your books!
shit-gaze: i tried to write a poem about the way your voice cracks at three am like the floorboards of the home i grew up in how you reach your palms into my chest and hold my heart in your hand but all i wrote down was the word you and this is enough
screwballdame: enough poetry about loving me despite my imperfections. my scars are not invitations to kiss my skin. i did not go through hell for you to insist that the burning coals i walked on didn’t happen; didn’t exist.
my liege, i be not bovverèd
Some guy in my poetry theory class, describing orgasms.
I want to write poetry that gives ppl visuals. I want to my pair it with photography. I love the naked body.
I got to see my friend Chelsie tonight and it was just so great. I feel bad that I haven’t seen her since Thanksgiving so I’m going to buy her a book of poetry by Lang Leav. It’s full of really meaningful poetry and I just know she’s going to
Guys I’m just so excited to consider sending my poetry to publishers i really feel like I’m going on the right track
I scribbled out my notes but this poem means so much to me. I’ll probably base my next tattoo off of it
My lover is romantic in every way possible.And it’s more than just getting me my favorite flowers on valentine’s day and He is adorable and cute and opens doorsBut he is also romantic in a cultural way.He loves beauty and hopes for happy endingsHe
In moments like this, when I am so afraid, all I want is for you to hold my hand. Like you do when we are dancing, and the song ends, so you give me one last spin, and then take me back into your arms, intertwining our fingers, capturing my
So if I was to get a compilation of some of my poetry published, would anyone actually like. Buy a book of my poetry?
“The Perfect Contradiction”So soft and curvaceous,Fleshy and warm to the touch,Skin reacting immediately,To my fingers brush,Contracting and goose-pimply,Such hard nipples addition,It’s the perfect contradiction,For my tongue’s
poetry-and-pornography: jeffsdesires: hptals: hplyrikz: Clear your mind here This, unfortunately, time and time again, is true. Yes, unfortunately, it is very true. The problem I have with this is in the title…you should never have to MAKE anyone
omarholmon: “this is not a vague political statement to make my twitter look worldy. There are no t-shirts for this, this is my mother, my brother. I’ve spent my whole life experiencing bloodshed in theory from a comfortable desk an ocean away”
laying in the garret all alone, in the chilly air with cold arms. with my feet freezing under a blanket, my hands against my head, and my fingers in my hair, i shiver in an anxious fidget so i get up to grab a jacket.
A language arts project
i can't believe we knew each other
I dreamt a thousand dreams one night, but I forgot them all by daylight.
Green, Green, Green– my mind’s color of a lonely me. See green, sea green so green like the color of your eyes, blinking bright and piercing keen. Oh, how I wish they’ve seen, how I so wish they’d gleam for me.
They say love is found around every corner You’re trying to find it but you’re just walking straight ahead. Why don’t you turn a corner instead? If only you stuck around If only you’d turn back around Then your definition of love
be the crawling in my spine resonating from the soles of my feet throughout my body and to my scalp crumple your hands into mine letting your fingers stir my heart beat as your skin meets my skin
we can do whatever we want
Sit on a stone wall for hours on end.Don’t look at the passersby.Put to your lips a smoking lightBecause people won’t know you aren’t the age.You can pass for older than your years,kid.Because the pain they can see on your faceusually
we are synonymous
Wrote when lonely, laying in bed after a meaningless cry. Listening to the train rolling by.“I wonder what it would be like to lay my bodyout right in the middle of the tracks and look atthe sky.What it must be like to spend
embrace the waste you are you’re trash fresh picked from the junkyard and that’s okay because junk can be turned into art turned into the mailbox wedged crooked in the dirt or the dollhouse carpented by someone’s gone grandfather this whole world
My anxiety keeps me hiding in my room i can’t even text any of my friends anymore my brain tells me they don’t need me and they never did
