Sex Under A Vacant House
Torrents rain blindly flying air
crying in torrents hair matted
skull to face blanket used laid.
Light dim cracked features of
la ired trusses has slowed wind.
Discarded old food rotting in
boxes packed dirt ridge floor.
Bodies musky funk decimated
ode rs of prior use undistilled.
Back against wall wondering
not knowing many unwashed
hopelessness impassioned
acts desperation's released
shells spent bodies discarded
hulls adrft under these floors.
poem by Cigar Aficionado
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Related quotes
Nature's Acts
Who can stop nature's acts?
Tell me if you know;
And, try to open your eyes to know more about the facts of life.
Nature's acts!
And the rain came with blustery torrents;
For nobody can control nature,
And i heard the preposterous brat.
Tenements, blustery torrents in the lan dof my muse! !
Thundering with flahes of light;
And the rain came in with blustery torrents,
But, who can stop nature's own act?
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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About My Wife
what i lack she fills it
and when she's full with what i lack
she comes back
and gives me that smile that reminds me
of a flower everlasting
a life eternal
a love that stays put even when
the floors are trembling
due to that emptiness between
those dirt that insert
between one floor slab to another
she walks carefully on those shiny floors
not to disturb
the shaky foundation
she keeps the word
forever in her bosom
and what you can find there are only
the memories
those good ones
the bad ones
long discarded into the bins
burned
she knows what must be forgiven and forgotten
to keep the fires of love burning
and when the fire is gone when every nook in the room is cold
she hides inside my arms
like some kitten to the embrace of the cat
on those dark and very cold nights
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Prayer For Rain
You shatter me
Your grip on me
A hold on me
So dull it kills
You stifle me
Infectious sense
Of hopelessness and
Prayers for rain
I suffocate
I breathe in dirt
And nowhere shines
But desolate
And drab the hours all spent
On killing time again
All waiting for
The rain
You fracture me
Your hands on me
A touch so plain
So stale it kills
You strangle me
Entangle me
In hopelessness and
Prayers for rain
I deteriorate
I live in dirt
And nowhere glows
But drearily and tired
The hours all spent
On killing time again
All waiting for
The rain
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prayers For Rain
You shatter me your grip on me a hold on me
So dull it kills you stifle me infectious sense of
Hopelessness and prayers for rain i suffocate i
Breathe in dirt and nowhere shines but desolate
And drab the hours all spent on killing time
Again all waiting for the rain
You fracture me your hands on me a touch so
Plain so stale it kills you strangle me entangle
Me in hopelessness and prayers for rain i
Deteriorate i live in dirt and nowhere glows but
Drearily and tired the hours all spent on killing
Time again all waiting for the rain
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All Wet - The Song
On down the river of circumstance
Drowning in a sea of despair
I try to shelter my heart
Knowing that you are no longer there
Under an unwelcome wave of disagreements
Swallowed up by tides of disdain
I try to control my teardrops
As they fall like the pouring rain
Knowing that you're gone from my presence
Knowing that you're no longer near to my shore
Is breaking my heart and soul into pieces
Knowing that you don't love me any more
Can't seem to reconcile your absence
Can seem to deal with this pain
Under a cloud of overwhelming heartache
Consumed by unending torrents of rain
Oh where oh where is my Rainbow?
Oh where oh where can it be?
Soaked am i from sea to the sky
Wishing that you were here with me
No need to look for the sunshine
No need to look for blue sky
No need to get my hopes up
Just too many reasons to cry
Flooded by unending bodies of water
Rivers to seas of despair
Tears that fall as raindrops
They are simply everywhere...
An original song written by me
Dedicated to all who know the loss of love
Ocober 20,2011
poem by Theodora Onken
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She sat upon the floor...
She sat upon the floor
Looking through a pile of letters,
She took them up and tossed them
Like so many cold ashes.
She took the familiar pages
And gazed at them strangely,
The way souls look from above
At their discarded bodies . . .
O, how much life was in them,
Life irrevocably lived!
O, how many bitter moments,
How much love and joy now dead! . . .
I stood silently aside
Ready to fall on my knees,
And I grew terribly sad,
As if in the presence of a dear ghost.
poem by Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
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An Old Tyre (Fun Poem 79)
Someone had discarded an old tyre.
It was all battered and worn.
As I stared at it, I wondered
of what journeys it had been on.
How far had it gone,
and if it had seen
some interesting places on its travels around?
That old tyre discarded on the ground.
When I think of the travels
we make in our car each day,
I bet that old tyre would have a lot to say.
However, it is abandoned,
no use to anyone.
When I looked the next day and the tyre was gone.
Overnight it must have stood up
and rolled along on more travels I presume.
Therefore, this ends the tale of an old tyre,
which was discarded on the ground.
14 May 2008
poem by David Harris
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The Attic
The door from the attic, with its darkness handle.
Eco's hand clutching his open
Breathing dust and cobwebs, tickle the face.
Of dark place of bricks and mortar
Those stairs incomplete, greyish, without any importance
Climb into the unknown, where the past is set apart, confined.
With the roof barely, resting on wall closets
That my head bends.
Days' ancestors, forgotten by the light
Of the window roof,
where the dust, like magic flying in the wind,
It mixes with reflections of glass.
And those sheets of bed, piled.
They have been sleeping for years, without bodies to keep them warm.
Only dust and spiders dreams
And just around the corner where light barely penetrates.
Boxes sealed with tape, expect to be open.
Ready to flee from their exile
Memories illuminate, that mute room.
Rich, locked to themselves.
Fled forgotten, until now, abandoned.
poem by Luca Menin
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Public Pervert
If time is my vessel, then learning to love might be my way back to sea
The flying, the metal, the turning above - these are just ways to be seen
We all get paid
Some get faith before they die
Then through the stars we will navigate
Through the holes in your eyes
How many days will it take to land?
How many ways to reach abandon?
Swoon, baby, starry nights
May our bodies remain
You move with me I'll treat you right, baby
May our bodies remain
There is love to be made
So, just stay here for this while
Perhaps heartstrings resuscitate
The fading sounds of your life
Swoon, baby, starry nights
May our bodies remain
As deep we move I'll feed you light, baby
May our bodies remain
In history I'll treat you right
I'm honest that way
song performed by by Interpol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Boy Racer
Into the maw of darkness,
the boy racer sped
trying the chase the dreams
that spun around his head.
Trying to empress his friends
with the driving skills, he never had.
His three friends yelled
as excitement filled their minds
as they charged into the darkness
all without a care.
The rain came down in torrents
and still he sped on
oblivious to the dangers
if he did not slow down.
As the visibility lowered
the boy racer’s speed increased.
He could out run this
was all that was on his mind.
The wall appeared in front of them,
fear gripped everyone,
and there was no turning back,
not at ninety miles an hour.
Within a second, they were gone,
the damage forever done.
They dragged out their bodies
after the body bags had arrived
or at least what was left of them.
Another tragic accident
where in unskilled hands
speed got the better of them.
At the funeral there were few
because this one boy racer
had killed his friends too.
One-day youngsters will learn,
but only when it is too late
speed can kill all
who want to play with it.
23 November 2009
poem by David Harris
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The Real Revolution
for too long
our bodies have been empty shells
driven by fossil fuels!
occupy Wall Street!
occupy New York!
occupy San Francisco....
occupy the whole damned country!
occupy our bodies!
fill
...the
.....emptiness
w ith
...human
.....desire,
compassion
....understanding
...... and determination!
the real revolution
lies in the human condition!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Photography suits the temper of this age - of active bodies and minds. It is a perfect medium for one whose mind is teeming with ideas, imagery, for a prolific worker who would be slowed down by painting or sculpting, for one who sees quickly and acts decisively, accurately.
quote by Edward Weston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After the Storm
Light surging down
glistening lanes
gleaming torrents
consuming the rain
the blazing sun
floods the damp valley floor
from somber penumbra
the bright star breaks forth
radiance shatters
the storm’s dark pall
The sun drowns dull night
In its flashing flood-tide.
poem by Steven Federle
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Sonnet: Whither Thy Art, Man?
Yes, men and women, paint their eyelashes,
And dye their hair in hues and paint their nails;
And wear head-bands, multi-colored sashes,
And paint the tortoises and shells of snails.
Some paint their bodies fully or one-half;
Some paint their country’s flag over their face;
Some look like leopards, lions, clowns that laugh;
Some tattoo pictures or paint words so base.
Some paint their naked bodies as if dressed
Or apply stickers of men, Gods or beast;
Their art on human skins looks to them best
And dance in ritual for a sumptuous feast.
The art of man has gone so crazy now,
For men paint Dogs, cats, cattle, also cow.
poem by John Celes
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Modern Warfare
What is War?
War creates wounds
War is Man vs. Man
War causes countless deaths
War is seeing bodies flying across the wide open blue sky,
Then coming down in a like a hail storm replaced with body limbs
With red rain
War is the sound of a 5.56 mm round unloading near your ear drums
To the larger more massive tank shells ordnance
War scares the crap out of everyone minds
From the young to the old
poem by Danny Nguyen
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We Are....
we are the children
of the tears God wept.
we are the names and the faces
of the spirits that roam the night.
we are the leaves that fell
with autumnal passion...
we crumbled back into the dirt,
and returned to our mother.
we are the oaks cut
to build the house.
we are the saws, the hammers,
and the nails.
we are the water,
and we are the well.
we are the cup and the basin,
we are the mirror long cracked.
we are the fire,
and the bodies huddled.
we are the long blackness
of the unnamed night.
we are the book,
and the living words,
the preacher closing the casket,
the shovel, and the dirt.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Shall Be Released
They say evrything can be replaced,
Yet evry distance is not near.
So I remember evry face
Of evry man who put me here.
I see my light come shining
From the west unto the east.
Any day now, any day now,
I shall be released.
They say evry man needs protection,
They say evry man must fall.
Yet I swear I see my reflection
Some place so high above this wall.
I see my light come shining
From the west unto the east.
Any day now, any day now,
I shall be released.
Standing next to me in this lonely crowd,
Is a man who swears hes not to blame.
All day long I hear him shout so loud,
Crying out that he was framed.
I see my light come shining
From the west unto the east.
Any day now, any day now,
I shall be released.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grey Windows...
grey windows, grey buildings,
grey streets, grey skies...
grey figures staring,
grey deals are done!
manipulate gas prices,
manipulate food...
manipulate the economy,
manipulate the election.
right and wrong,
never thought of.
hungry mouths and desperation.
win the war,
never raise a gun,
bodies strewn everywhere!
money makes gods,
without conscience or morals.
human lives just tokens,
that buy trinkets for demons!
flag draped caskets,
the stink of money overwhelms.
while patriots dig graves,
for their mothers and sisters.
right and wrong,
never thought of.
hungry mouths and desperation.
pick a President,
who'll stand silent,
as birds of prey pick the bodies!
grey windows...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Breaking Free
The heat begins as the movement starts,
Two bodies, two hearts,
One place, one dream,
The sweat becoming a steady stream.
One against the other skin pressed,
Their bodies together, both undressed,
Together they move, together they feel,
Both wondering how this feeling could be so real.
They lay together fingers raoming, tracing,
Bodies steady, minds racing,
Bothe wanting, both longing.
The feelings so vivid, the so taunting.
Lips roam over features, memorizing turns, dips, taste.
Bodies tangled together, hands laced,
Breathing so uneaven, yet so right.
Together they stay, through the long night.
Moans break through the air,
Into eachither they melt, into their eyes they stair,
Both so lost, yet forever lost in one place,
Skin together as one, as hearts race.
The bodies meet and one enters the other,
Both in pain, both in longng for the other,
Both wanting more, bothe lost in their dream,
as they melt together soft as cream.
Their eyes flash bright and open,
Both hoping, both wanting to feel it again,
Together they smile, love is all they now see,
Their eyes close, their hearts slow, they break free.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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We Hated Goodbyes
i too wish of the wine,
the drunkenness, and the togetherness
that night, when we have become
free-willy, no thoughts, just our bodies,
no restraints, nothing about tomorrow,
when we were lost, and yet so happy,
and when we wake up that morning,
we did not really know what we were doing,
we're all wet in dryness, lips cracked,
bruised bodies, strangled hairs,
satisfied navels,
and then, that which we hated,
yes, goodbyes.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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