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Poetry (original.or.attributed)

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Female Performer Chat: Poetry (original.or.attributed)

Created by: dudley_do_ride

10/27/11 @ 9:38am (EDT) | UTC - 4:00
Location: hain't Pochipsie son
Posts: 3,294

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I think you are getting infected by Halloween Mood. I bet you are carving now your cute Pupmkin and preparing candies for kids :angel

Carving kids... Feeding them to my leering pumpkins...

Bwwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ha ha ha haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

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Created by: ophelias_rue

10/27/11 @ 11:17am (EDT) | UTC - 4:00
Location: floating just beneath the surfaces
Posts: 5,122

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oh god lmfao

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Created by: ophelias_rue

10/28/11 @ 9:34am (EDT) | UTC - 4:00
Location: floating just beneath the surfaces
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John Littletree sits in the sweat lodge. He�s burnt sage, and mesquite, and swept the lodge carefully with cedar branches. He�s painted himself with charcoal and red clay, the designs dictated carefully by his Grandmother. He�s burnt dried cedar and large handfuls of dried cactus blooms from further south. The lodge is stifling and thick with smoke and his naked body drips with sweat. His grandmother had listened carefully to the story, had asked questions about the taste of the stick Bia-m had touched. She had rocked back and forth seated on the porch with him in the evening light. She had gone inside and prepared a tea of herbs and lavender and cedar bark that they drank together in silence. Then she had turned her rocker to face him and held his hands in hers. She had not done that since he was a child and his mother had left him with her, never to return.

His grandmother�s sun aged and wrinkled old face, with its laugh and sorrow lines so deep it looked like the churned and eroded land around the Yellowstone Park lands, blurred in the growing dark until he could see her as she had once been, when she was y0ung and beautiful and the men of the tribe had held contests to see which of them would be worthy of simply calling upon her. She begins a song, chanting to him in her ancient soft voice. He closes his eyes which is the proper way to hear what is under the words and sounds. The song is of spirits who walk, and wander, and are cursed. It is a sad and lonely song; their longing for what they were, their loss for what they are. At the end of the song she had squeezed his hands tightly holding firm; and then she had released his hands, in a gesture of letting go. �Now, my son, finish your tea, and perform your cleansing� she says.

In the sweat lodge, John Littletree closes his eyes and his mind drifts and dozes. He dreams of a rolling plain, with high green grasses being blown by winds he does not feel. It is a sunny day with fresh torn clouds, grey white and pale yellow, flying thin and fast in the blue. He hears thunder and wonders how it can be with such a blue, hard sky. He dreams of the slope above him. He dreams a herd of wild horses, all types of horses, more types than he has ever seen in one place, rushing over the crest of the hill. They are all mares, and there is no stallion to lead them, instead they are led by a grey mare. She is wild and strong and racing the world. The mare�s eyes are blue.

� Amanda 2011

10/28/2011

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Created by: rheza111

10/29/11 @ 1:38pm (EDT) | UTC - 4:00
Location: just to the left of center
Posts: 2,431

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for those in the Northeast,
robert frost stopping by woods on a snowy evening-

Whose woods these are I think I know,
His house is in the village, though;
He will now see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

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Created by: dudley_do_ride

10/30/11 @ 12:17am (EDT) | UTC - 4:00
Location: hain't Pochipsie son
Posts: 3,294

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k1d: Hi Mom I'm home!

Mother: Oh no. Why aren't you at the school?

k1d: I quit! It was bullshit!

Mother: Ohhhhhh. Pythagorus is not good enough for my son. Saw some problems with his proofs?

k1d: No. It was just lame.

Mother: Lame? Lame?!? Do you know how much your tuition costs? Do you know what we had to sacrifice?

k1d: Chill. I'm gonna be a stoic.

Mother: That's a laugh. Oh I wish we were Spartans now. They would have whipped some sense into you. If you had survived to reach your teens that is.

k1d; Ooooooooooh Spartans. Think they're so tough. Thick as bricks.

Mother: So stoic, think you are gonna live here?

k1d: Hey I tried to move in with my girlfriend but she dumped me. Found out what she's all about.

Mother: (rolling eyes) Imagine.

k1d: Gotta go. Lecture down on master's porch.

Mother: Oh sure. Go go. I know you'll be back for supper though.

k1d: The leaves...

Mother: Out! Out!

...

Philosophy was part of the daily life of the ancient Greeks.

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Created by: ophelias_rue

10/30/11 @ 1:39am (EDT) | UTC - 4:00
Location: floating just beneath the surfaces
Posts: 5,122

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Black Coffee, Black Chocolate, Cigarettes, and You

Sat together, in the snow,
She's so lovely, had to know.
'Will you love me, if I go?
Will you find me, my White Snow?'

Watched her face,I watched her eyes,
Wondered if she'd ever cry.
If she loved me, if she cared;
Hot black coffee, steamed the air.

'O I'd miss you, oh yes my.'
Passed her Chocolate, asked why?
'You're my favorite, no lies.
Love you baby' then she sighed.

Said she got me,and she left.
Now I sit here, feel bereft.
Watch the snow fall, feel her theft,
Black coffee, and cigarettes.

� Amanda 2011

10/30/2011

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Created by: dudley_do_ride

10/31/11 @ 9:57am (EDT) | UTC - 4:00
Location: hain't Pochipsie son
Posts: 3,294

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*flashback*

strum strummie strum strummie strum strum strum struum
strum strummie strum strummie strum strum strum struuum

He'll be...
Coming...
Up the mountain...
He'll be going down the mountain...

Assassin: Bloooooooob Wendell.

Wendell: Hai!

He'll be riding...
On his...
horsie...

Assassin: You are a no good murdering son of a bitch. And now it is time for you to meet your maker.

Wendell: It is time for me to meet Maurice? I don't think so...

He'll be...
Holding...
All his...
pistols...

Assassin: Do you have any more minions for me to slaughter?

Wendell: You didn't think it would be this easy did you?

Assassin: Honestly. Yeah. I kind of did.

Wendell: Wheaties... is the... breakfast of... champions.

Assassin: I like little frosted donuts.

He'll be...
Crinkling...
All his...
wrappers.

Whc can see his guhun?
Who can take his guhun?
Who can cock his guhun?
Who can disassemble his guhun?

Assassin: But I digress. Where are those minions?

Wendell: Here!

Assassin: Smurfs?! How diabolical. (Hacking) Hiiiii Haaaaa Hooooo Heeeeee Hoooooo Hleeeeeee

Assassin: Got any more smurfs?

Smurfette: Just me (giggle)

Assassin: Smurfette I don't wanna hurt you. I beg you to reconsider.

Smurfette: (giggle) That doesn't sound like begging to me.

Assassin: Hi hoo hooop hooie hooooooooooooyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah (ding) (slash) (whicker) (squish)

Assassin: Any more?

Wendell: No. Let's have some tea in the garden.

(tinny trumpet)

Now begins the showdown... in earnest...

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Created by: dudley_do_ride

11/2/11 @ 10:25am (EDT) | UTC - 4:00
Location: hain't Pochipsie son
Posts: 3,294

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bb gets all the girls
it's true it's true like nuts to squirrels

i go room to room and lurk
but it's only bb that makes their nipples perk

"hey bb" they murmer and then they wink
who is this "bb" i think

"bb take me private" they say
but bb never seems to pay

what a stud he must be
to be the admiration of the laity

"oh bb" they sometimes moan in the heat of passion
like forgetting they are with me is the new Paris fashion

how can I compete with this lover?
he's been on cam more than Danny Glover.

i even found myself screaming "bb bb bb" as I came one time
oh Lord, can this be hidden tendencies starting to shine?

Lord preserve me from bb
(what the fuck rhymes with it anyway?)

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Created by: ophelias_rue

11/2/11 @ 11:26am (EDT) | UTC - 4:00
Location: floating just beneath the surfaces
Posts: 5,122

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Worshipers of Ur

I watch them moan and sing their hymns
Their worship never seems to end.

They chant together, echo lines,
Upper case and lower whines.

�Ur panties so blue, so bright,
I might like to take a bite!�

�Show Ur bobs, let me kiss�
�Ur pussy is my lasting wish.�

�Ur eyes so blue, so deep do glow.�
�Lean Ur butt, I have to know.�

�Ur wet? Ur tight?�
�Ur up late tonight.�

I find the cult an awful fright.

And yet, my loves, my favorite girls
Don�t take affront, don�t spin and whirl.
Don�t hit the button I do love,
Sending �You�ve been banned� from up above.

Who IS this Ur? I�d like to know
Who garners such lust and worshipers so.
I want to see Ur�s ass, Ur�s twat,
Ur�s tits and mouth and clit so hot.

So please provide me with her room
If Ur�s so lovely, my credits she�ll assume.

� Amanda 2011

11/2/2011

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Created by: Loona

11/2/11 @ 1:27pm (EDT) | UTC - 4:00

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Created by: ophelias_rue

11/2/11 @ 11:31pm (EDT) | UTC - 4:00
Location: floating just beneath the surfaces
Posts: 5,122

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Created by: ophelias_rue

11/2/11 @ 11:39pm (EDT) | UTC - 4:00
Location: floating just beneath the surfaces
Posts: 5,122

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A Tease: so many shapes and sizes

I was never particularly good at it, in life or on cam. I enjoyed the posture of it, the raised eyebrow, the glimpse through fallen hair, the tilt to a head, a full lower lip extending in the perfect direction, a low quieted voice, a small sweep of the hand with wrist slightly bent, or the hand alone with its palm up in supplication. I loved all of the visuals of it, all of the effects. I spent hours in front of the mirror, when novice and at the age when it becomes so much fun. But always, my need to have the result, the pleasure of 'the other' outweighed the anticipation. I was horrible at magic tricks, fumbling them in eagerness, and with my size, it was always hard to conceal the surprise that waited; the bird would show its head, the rabbit would hop about wriggling the hat, the Red Queen would drop from my sleeve, and the coin would never reappear.

All of this eagerness is still with me, I sit with packages hidden in a closet for a day that is weeks away. I acquire the gift, I examine it closely for failure points; I admire its look, its beauty, its fit or its features. I hold it in my hand, close my eyes, and experience it as weight alone. I run fingers over it feeling its textures. I wrap it in a collection of fine papers with haunting imagery, or slick glossy wraps with bright flashy bits to them. I carefully fold my own bows, picking colors of ribbons that I know, will please the eye of the beholder. I put it away, still so many days of waiting until the reveal.

I wander aimlessly feeling as though there is something that I failed to remember. Is the size correct? Will it irritate the skin? Was it deep dark indigo that she loved so? Is it the right one of the twenty-two varieties and reformulations of that fragrance? Did she say plain, white, or rose gold? Should I have labeled it stating the obvious, that it was my love that remembered what she had only mentioned in passing? I throw open the closet door and put a chair just there and climb on its wobbly unequal legs to stretch and reach and with just the fingertips tease it to the edge and grasp it finally and hop to the floor. I rip off the ribbons, unfurl the bow, tear at the paper, having to know. I open the box and there it is again, in all its perfection, it practically glows with its correctness. I remember her whisper, her eyes closed, her hand in mine, my heart bursting, when she had described her wish, her longing, the thing she missed.

� Amanda Graham 2011
11/2/2011

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Created by: dudley_do_ride

11/3/11 @ 3:01am (EDT) | UTC - 4:00
Location: hain't Pochipsie son
Posts: 3,294

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oh whoops

lol

Ur so needing a :bowdown

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Created by: ophelias_rue

11/3/11 @ 3:22am (EDT) | UTC - 4:00
Location: floating just beneath the surfaces
Posts: 5,122

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LOL gimme a hug you rank bastard HA!

and i LOVED the implicit rhyme in your post.. f'ing marvelous!

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Created by: dr.sniffy

11/3/11 @ 8:07am (EDT) | UTC - 4:00

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I don't fuck fossils for free

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Created by: ophelias_rue

11/3/11 @ 8:13am (EDT) | UTC - 4:00
Location: floating just beneath the surfaces
Posts: 5,122

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ah, a fee forfeiting freelancing fossil fucker!!! FABULOUS!!!

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Created by: ophelias_rue

11/3/11 @ 11:06am (EDT) | UTC - 4:00
Location: floating just beneath the surfaces
Posts: 5,122

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Leaves

Years ago I worked with a man, an accountant, Mr. Linn. Mr. Linn was a naturalized citizen who, with his wife, immigrated to the United States. Mr. Linn was unfamiliar with the volume of oak, maple, linden, hazel, walnut, locust, sycamore, apple, pear, peach, cherry and all of the other types and subtypes of deciduous tree and shrub life that we have in abundance in this part of the world. Mr. Linn and I carpooled to the offices we worked in; not a long commute each way, perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes morning and evening. Over time we shared some of our lives, our histories, and the general sort of day to day conversation which two people who work together discuss in passing.

One October morning Mr. Linn, riding in my passenger seat, turned his dark black glasses distorted eyes on me and said "I don't understand. So many leaves on ground, blowing, on streets." I arched an eyebrow at him briefly trying not to put us on some yard in the suburban neighborhood we were cutting through to avoid traffic. "Leaves" he pronounced carefully, making quite sure I heard his enunciated 'L'; "Where do leaves go? Spring leaves all gone. Summer new leaves. Leaves fall. Where go?"

I was loath to attempt to describe to Mr. Linn the futile efforts of people to rake, bag, and discard the leaves. "Charles," I finally said "I do not know where the leaves go. It's a wonderful question."

� Amanda 2011

11/3/2011

_____ ._____

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Created by: Crooks

11/4/11 @ 3:33pm (EDT) | UTC - 4:00

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Memories abound inside my head

They could go on forever,

Swimming in currents and rifts

Treasures, treasured moments.

Faces, places, frozen pieces of time.

The girl, her smile, always causing the stars in her eyes

Watching them fall down her cheek,

the way her hair falls just so,

So soft and smooth, no curl but for the bit of curve from her brow

I always noticed how it shone, catching every bit of light

It has grown so very long now.

Nights of dancing hearts and weaving looms

Memories of paintings, water color, proudly held works of art

And yet more, washes of color disappeared, strong memories, photos

Touching, fingertips tracing, remembering.

Glancing at an empty hand.

Back to turning it over, holding, feeling the weight in my palm

Pearl earrings, stringing pearls, diving into the ocean

Setting them free

Swimming now with the fish

Sun glittering through the surface

A mask floating by, black and white.

Bubbles drifting, here and gone.

Little bits of broken rest

Days passing slowly, quickly, fiddling with time

Music playing, ringing through my ears

Wrapping it around myself

Placing it inside

Holding onto everything

Never forgetting

Closing eyes, touching again

Leaning heads on shoulders

Foreheads pressed

Warm embraces and soothing words

Hot tears and clenched fists

The heat between thighs.

Relaxing, sleeping soundly

Staying up all night

with no hint of slumber in sight

French onion soup and mutual loves

The couch we used to sit on and banter

Moments of smiles and laughter

Hiding faces and peeking at the disaster

Jumping, eyes wide

Makeup and nail polish and shoes

Oh the shoes..

The pair, when you reminded me "just close your eyes"

And I did.

The funny things you didnt like,

How I loved you for not enjoying them, and saying so

The trees, the sneezes, your backyard

The flowers.

Sipping coffee on a beautiful day

Sharing moments, stories, words

All of it is here

Circling and bobbing about

Diving under, then popping to the surface

Debating a life jacket

Such choppy weather lately

Sorting through delicately

Grasping to my heart

Never letting go.

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Created by: ophelias_rue

11/4/11 @ 3:35pm (EDT) | UTC - 4:00
Location: floating just beneath the surfaces
Posts: 5,122

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Created by: Crooks

11/4/11 @ 4:17pm (EDT) | UTC - 4:00

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*putting you, entwined with my heart, into my top, keeping close*

"wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle, HUH!"

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