Scorning The Lolita [original]

The smell of her perfume makes it hard to breathe at night.
The overbearing scent of patchouli
and gardenia isn't a smell
A nose like mine can handle.
Scorning the lolita, was what it was called;
The beauty on the walls of
bloody scents of ambergris, musk and dead flowers
Spin the heads of millions.
They drowned her head into
that puddle of intoxicating vomit.
Doused, doused, doused.
Drown, down, down.
Let's see how far she can swim,

---------------scorning the lolita

For Roezi [original]

A flutter of the lashes,
A wisp of words from that mouth and I could die.
Swing the hair around your face and grin,
You could kill an entire group of men,
With a stare

Can I dance with you?
Elegant little queen
Of vintage, Siouxie Sioux, and Hookah smoke.
You look lovely tonight by the way.

Your dress...are you getting married?
White virginal cotton on pale vampiric skin,
The red lips give it away,
You're such a model, it pains me to take my eyes off of you.

You little heartfelt tart.

~

Well... To Start off...

I am terribly sorry I haven't posted anything from my vaults OR from Stumbleupon OR other sources of poetic lust and love. I feel sort of bad :/ Well, look forward to some meaty and some lusty poems in the next few days~! I, hopefully, will find some old peices you may like and some new ones you will be fond of ~

Til then

The Management.

This isn't poetry. This is free verse.

What I hate about me.
My crybaby attitiude.
My whimpy defense with myself and my emotions.
My way of overlooking simple things.
My way of talking to some people I love.
My hair.
My body.
My ankles.
My scars.
My stretch marks.
My mother and my childhood.
the way I overreact to the tiniest things, and break down and cry.
the way I overthink.
Dissappointing you.
Hurting you.
Making you upset.

The things i love about me.
My creativity.
My determination.
My singing.
My acting.
My dancing.
My big heart.
My face.
My lips.
My taste in books, music, and art.
You.
My life.
How I fight for what I think is right, even til the
bitter end.
Being able to hear your voice.
My handwriting.
My stinginess with money...most of the time.
The way I smell.
How I sleep.
How I walk.
How I hold a pen/pencil/your hand.
My eye for detail.
How I hug.
How I cry.
How I dress.

Things I want to change.
How I overthink things
How I look
How I can stop disappointing you, making you mad...

Things I'd never change.
How you love me
How I love you
How we're friends
How I make friends
How I laugh
How I like to make lists but never read them again.

Welcome To The Earth [original]

dancing, she danced so sensual.
moving, she moved against me.
loving, she loved me no more.
needing, she needed me so.
vanishing, she vanished from my hands.

sweating, i left a trail of sweat against the door.
viewing, i knew i wanted to watch her, my little whore.
cursing, i cursed the day she said 'I do'.
yearning, i want to taste her skin again.
needing, i need her to be here it hurts.

craving, our bodies bump against each other in the dark.
longing, she longed to rip out her eyes.
wanting, i wanted to hold her and claw out her heart.
thriving, living through each other we grow into a twisted shape.
Gone. We live forever in the dust of the earth.

An average graduate's morning [original]

Hot cup of tea;
Cool mug of cold cereal;
Sounds of a small boy shrieking in the back;
means its summer.

Television on a chef couple
Cranking out some chow
You wish you could have;
all while you debate
"When do I go and do some Yoga"
(Or whatever you do)

Four walls, from wake til sleep;
Home, comfort,
(Oh look! She's making peach iced tea... my favorite)
My eyes burn when they hit the outside.
What's gonna happen to me?
When the school kids start their schooldays
when graduates try to find work,
try to get into class?

Hm, you tell me.
This is all a part of a test,
This too shall pass.

E.E Cummings- the boys i mean are not refined

the boys i mean are not refined
they go with girls who buck and bite
they do not give a fuck for luck
they hump them thirteen times a night

one hangs a hat upon her tit
one carves a cross on her behind
they do not give a shit for wit
the boys i mean are not refined

they come with girls who bite and buck
who cannot read and cannot write
who laugh like they would fall apart
and masturbate with dynamite

the boys i mean are not refined
they cannot chat of that and this
they do not give a fart for art
they kill like you would take a piss

they speak whatever's on their mind
they do whatever's in their pants
the boys i mean are not refined
they shake the mountains when they dance

----
Another one I found on StubleUpon :] Find the most interesting poetry on there (and then some!!) I enjoyed this piece too, although it's rather crude >///<
Enjoy, my readers~

-Fey Absynthe

E.E Cummings- i like my body when it is with your

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh… And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new

----
I found this piece very sensual and a little funny with his word play :]
I enjoyed it a great deal, stumbled upon it while being bored out of my mind.
Hope you like it, my readers!

-Fey Absynthe