Best Stimulate Poems
Dear men,
Explain to me why I stand alone.
Women are quick to uplift their father, sons, and brothers
Quick to maintain the home,
But when she needs support,
A woman stands alone
Explain to me why a woman has to stay in her “place”
Is there no room for a woman who is more than a pretty face?
Is there no room for a woman who can stimulate you intellectually
Or is it a woman’s only duty to please you sexually?
Explain to me why beating a woman gives you power
It gives you strength
Is masculinity so fragile
That you can’t maintain?
Without getting pleasure from pain
Explain to me why your brother goes scott free
When he takes advantage of a woman
While she is left to be ridiculed, blamed
As society throws dirt on her name
And she falls victim to her own demise.
I despise
The men who are so oblivious to their own privilege
That they think patriarchy is normal
Excuse my language
As I speak a bit informal
For you to understand
That you cannot catcall me as I walk down the street
It’s disgusting and demeaning
No I am not obligated to give you my number
Just because you ask and think you are getting a pass at me
No I don’t need you to hold the door open or carry my groceries
I am a strong, independent woman and your belief that I am weak
Is insulting
No I do not have to give you my body just because you bought me a drink
My body belongs to me
No matter what you tell yourself or think
Dear men,
You can no longer say that you are ignorant to my issues or my demands
Because I have clearly listed it for you to see.
Now only a real man
Will know, that women deserve equity
Liquid Heaven
A feast for my womanly inner beast!
I tease, I please, you have me on my knees
I wring my hands, you oint my head
With your fingers locked in my hair of red
You -I call Master!
Begging for forgiveness, in a position of love
My words are bashing with one stuttering sound
Moaning & Moaning,
As you make my head spin like a merry-go-round
Craving for you to unleash a liquid heaven sound
My body speaks and mumbles a language meant for you
A touch of intimacy, that lathers up like liquid glue
Sticky but, yet so compelling
My tongue slips silent beloved words of joy into the air
You play the master of this dark solid room
This dungeon's all I consume
You engage me, to provoke you with everything I got
Yelling, please master don't ever stop!
At this moment, I yearn for excitement
To feel the arousing sensation of your presence
That melts me and chill me with a flow that does not kill
I'm your thinker
Your muse and poet
You are my composer creating liquid tunes
Come here and expresses the hardness of your boldness
I confess to you my love
You are all I'm dreaming of
You drive your hands all over
Reaching every steamy spot
Encourage me to stimulate your mental needs
You are the master withholding a liquid element
In me, you release fluids that hit like a silent tide
A desire that comes with a full force of the fire inside
I crave for the taste of your lips
Your hands on my hips
Your fingers with a tight sensual grip
I dedicate my heart and my lust
To get lost within every push of your trust
Like a treasure deep underneath the sand
I'm addicted to the feelings of your command
Your hazel eyes are the sunrise
You bring out the obsession,
And my sweet tooth temptation
Like the moon above a misty night
Seducing me in every way in a poetic write
YOU, MY LOVE!!!
Your liquid heaven is the beginning-
-Of my delicious delight!
by: PD
**A sweet Dedication To My Babe**
When my fatigued pen,
succumbed to a sleepy state of silence
in the market place of silent poets,
I searched for a tea room to stimulate my mind
my quest led me to you.
I do not recall the colours
of the cup, nor the saucer.
Only the shimmer of light,
reflecting your delicate,
slightly tanned hands.
I wondered, was it the chai
or those hazel bronze eyes -
something left me mesmerised.
One sip,
a sudden sense of serenity
overcame me -
like the sun had risen through my heart,
warm rays beamed through my eyes.
To not lose the moment,
I sipped slowly, savouring subtle sensations.
Silky smooth liquid caressed my tantalised tongue,
as taste buds yearned for just one sip from your lips.
Suddenly, a profusion of poetic thoughts
began to burst through my mind.
This was no simple musing.
Rekindled pen began to flow like rivers of chai.
Mardi Gras "The Medieval Story"
On a hot, heavy night in Orleans,
Joan and Jane were seen rubbing chest on chest
An inviting, intimate moment, to undress
Two pretty trimmed tops, eating like dames
They touched in ways, that drove those who make war insane
The secret spilled before the sun sprawled across the floor
Medieval England, banging on iron set doors,
All around men and women, wanting to witness the whiplash
Beads and beads of love, thrown at their feet
Joan' and Jane', having fun in front of, yesterdays courtyard
Sweet acts of flagellation were performed to stimulate the crowd
Screaming, and receiving, intense, brutal lacerations
In the eyes of endless nudity, everything wet in between
Left to right, a secluded society, dance in masquerade
Two men rise and ravage Jane, from hip to hip
Join-in, was a Jouster, and Lord Johnsburg,
They came in a little closer to claim, Joan
Closing, and inflicting as much damage as possible
Crestfallen forces of the unknown, -the audience grows
Remain firm and indulge this wet period of the Middle Ages,
The first crusade held stones in each hand,
Applauding to neck the beauty of friends
A noose hanging high held no head on this day
Yelling to feel the pain perils of anguish,
This was in reality the vassal of Jane
The King, ask to see them on their knees
Before he seeded, sending the Spanish tickler,
Fetching for the finest skin
At her end, Joan, watched Jane, spread like never before
Perfumed skin, rising up in smoke, -Joan's final stroke
Left burning at the Stake, In a Medieval World, from hell
The Siege of Joan and Jane did not end well
A lonely Bard, now sits and sings a sadistic tale,
A tale, of dirty deeds, -a dancing bloody masquerade
Joan and Jane, compensating for the Mardi Gras Parade
By: SKAT
I'm a grit teeth beginner breaking out the cage,
growing strong and fitter with wit coming of age,
squeezing letters out of lemons got me in a rage,
but this bitter will get better and steal the stage.
I'm out to lay a new way suitable to a renegade,
angrily squashing this yellow fruit into lemonade,
using the skin to pave a golden route in the trade,
writes rooted in the age of this transitional upgrade.
No scourge can submerge the courage I preserve under the surface,
that purrs with an urge to hand carve words with power and purpose,
this marvellous occurrence undoubtedly surges to resurface,
and repeatedly emerges delivering perfectly superb verses.
Attempts to pull curtains on my spirit,
only teach knowledge that I inherit,
I react and catch before impact to my merit
and you can't collapse the soul of this poet.
Everyone falls but my core's impenetrable,
and my mental resilience is unbreakable,
they can't remove something unshakeable,
trying is a mistake that'll make you miserable.
I've learnt to benefit from attempted attacks
aimed to prevent the way that I vent and act,
catching the weaponry and adding to my stack,
I've a determination that I'll never let crack.
I'll elevate as I stimulate with flow
and levitate the audience to show,
I'm able to continuously demonstrate
that my work is something to celebrate,
even though my opinion will make them hate.
Coming back is what I do,
don't make me come back for you!
Sounds of Splendor
Some say songs soothe the savage beast
On gentle melodies I feast
Sensual pleasures increase
Swing me, sway me, elevate me
Joyful psalms can jubilate me
Your lyrics stimulate me
Rock, classical or jazz
Reggae, soul and blue grass
Music always resonated
Wind songs man has emulated
Across Earth unabated
Primitive tribes made drums and flutes
Melodies traced to early roots
Angst is quelled, anger dilutes
Harmonies reign in grace
As all cultures embrace
The beauty of song unifies
Turning enemies to allies
Play set chords or improvise
All arts bring beauty to our lives
Song styles change but music survives
So much pleasure we derive
Singing in unison
Tunes from the musician
*for Catie’s “Focus on Syllables” contest (887, 887, 66 repeated three times)
Irish accents quake my female southland.
Males 'neath Newsboy Caps stimulate dreamland.
Irish yearns may want touch,
Did not seek to feel such.
Ireland trips could stimulate mate's backhand.
To seek a twist that turns a soul, toward two open hands,
A street wise urchin scours the lanes, where likewise understands,
And so the circle quickly spins, back to the gutter place,
Where there’s no need of feeling, or chance of saving face.
This wandering a dreary trail, soon drags the body down
For these folks with daily lives, who’ve never known renown.
Where wayside stop agenda’s, offer nil but one day hope,
And little chance of learning, or a vision how to cope.
Of course the word of ‘open house’, is known and known so well
Amongst the fiery feel let down, whose marching’s been to hell.
So now the wish of life has changed, from down beat getting by.
Some choose to find a Christian peace. Then for God here am I.
Talking straight and being fair, through lessons soon decide,
The pendulum won’t always swing, to seek the other side,
So method swings to meet the mood. Find tracks thought overgrown.
Trust begins to grow in strength, and friendship seeds are sown.
Put to the mind are simple tasks, that most don’t even dream,
Like having faith in human kind, or be part of a team,
So not surprised the answer, from a simple questionnaire,
Would you rather have my wisdom, or be a millionaire?
Of course the answers simple, money buys the world for you,
And like you were in days gone by, do what you want to do.
But tell me were you happy, with what you did without this gold!
I’m sure you’ll find my wisdom, gave warmth to stimulate your cold.
I’ve watched your feeling’s change, for the betterment no doubt.
To see you itching for the world, and wanting to get out
To face the challenge’s on offer, with your heart set on tradition,
And honesty within your soul, for a lifetime of ambition.
Faith the timeless healer, once again has conquered all.
Where once a ceaseless tempest grew, is now a minute squall.
I know there will be tempting times, I’ve seen this all before
In the glow of being proud, there’s a knock upon the door.
No better child stands near me now, although the worse for wear.
‘Tis I that holds the privilege when, I’m offering my care.
It hurt’s to see old spirit broke; I must build on this chance,
For there are no bad children. Just bad circumstance.
I penned a couplet for you today.
Rather, a quill manipulated
my hand and scrawled mendacity.
The misanthrope's who read the ode
applauded with flippers on.
Such insight. Such depth.
Mussolini meets Monet and
the Mephistopheles Mambo mounts.
Call me a scribe and I murder myself.
Call me a liar and I impregnate your charm.
I purposely dislocated my arm today.
Rather, your tongue severed bone
and flesh was torn from my shoulder;
a needed braised boomerang
to stimulate my poetic prowess.
Such clarity. Such wisdom.
Lenin leads Lichtenstein and
the Lucifer Lindy is launched.
Call me a poet and I gnarl my fingers.
Call me a fabulist and I bow to a crooked smile.
A jellyfish swam through my veins today.
Rather, the tentacles of a tyrant
triggered a fabricated Tanka.
Maudlin stumbles when I laugh alone -
more comedic when we cackle together.
Such simplicity. Such compassion.
Bundy befriends Berchtold and
the Beelzebub Bossa Nova begins.
Call me a dramatist and I gag upon reflection.
Call me a simpleton and your wishes are granted.
I solemnly yearn to expire today.
Rather, a fool fires in a fury
and a mannequin lies in his casket.
The curse you've driven towards me -
a combination menu
when a lone Woolf inconspicously
devours a battered Browning.
Such diversity. Such nothingness.
Stalin seduces Seurat and
the Satanic Samba softly swoons.
Call me a parodist and I choke upon perfection.
Call me a realist when I'm sleeping on nails.
I believe that long ago, the universe’s most artistic landscaper
mixed woodlands with tropics, rock formations with mountains,
volcanic craters with lush valleys, and cascading waterfalls with
pristine still waters before blending all with an ocean and
topping it off with sunshine. Man named this place, Hawaii.
The absolute awe that defines Hawaii, is bound to awaken
any slumbering faith and rejuvenate any emotion grown numb
to the brilliance of life. While visiting the Islands of Hawaii, I
absorbed a joy and wonder from the plants that delightfully
startled my own routine senses. I have been blessed in my life
to personally view beautiful and eye-catching plant life in many
regions of the world. In Hawaii, the plants adorning and tending
the islands are the most dramatic, glorious and enchanting that
my vision has ever drunk. There is an otherness to Hawaiian flora
that suggests plants are empowered with the ability to uplift,
stimulate and captivate even the most withdrawn human vision.
entrancing colors
paint a wonderland terrain ~
landscaped free of charge
bodacious flora
thrives in hawaii's landscape ~
no mute legs walk there
Deep into my soul you reach
to gently stroke my desire
All my defenses you breach
my very essence you inspire
You stimulate my hungry mind
teasing my stagnant thoughts
Embracing my process to align
left speechless, mind in knots
Shaking up my calmness now
while refreshing me as a whole
Bend me down to make me bow
I'll be submissive, you in control
Hypnotizing my subconscious
leaving me dazed, you overwhelm
Unrestrained no more cautious
Lead me to the enchanted realm
2/8/2020
Pure beauty is eternal bliss.
It permeates our existence
And lightens a burdened soul.
The most beautiful thing is love
(Without judgment or assumption)
Fostering acceptance that—
Nourishes the famished
And empowers the meek.
Aesthetics make a pleasing world
They personify lasting trends,
Stimulate creative minds,
And entertain world consciousness.
Delight embraces desire,
Passionate words inspire,
Art refutes retire,
All get to admire.
To be of beautiful spirit
Unleashes outward radiance--
A gratifying notion
To be of a beautiful mind
Fetches cognitive recognition--
An honorary triumph
Loving your own beauty
Transcends all other thought.
***Inspired by Catie Lindsey's "Focus on Syllables" Contest***
Man-made drugs
Induce an altered state
A psychedelic paradise
Of euphoria
A burst of colors
Impaired reality of dreams
A fix of blissful forgetfulness
Married to ecstasy
What need have I of these?
When I have you
My drug of choice
I will not touch any of the others
But you, I long to touch…
To feel you under my fingertips
To caress before I ingest
And let you posses...
Every way I can have you is good…
I inject
Inhale
Take you in orally
Taste you laced with everything
Under my tongue...
There…ah….there….it begins
I start getting high….
Climbing and climbing
My roller coaster rocketing high
On your words
On the scent of your emotions
On the presence of you in my mind
Who could ever find
A more wholesome or better stimulant...
Yes, you stimulate every part of me
You excite me
Make me delirious
Bring fire to my veins
Drive me insane
Make me oblivious to the pain
Leave me wanting more than the time before
Wanting a larger dose of you
More dangerous
More hallucinogenic
Unaware of my surroundings
I climax on this induced trip
You….my drug of choice
The drug from which
There is not even an iota
Of hope for rehabilitation….EVER...
Every cell to my very core is under your control
I want you coursing in my blood
Flooding my brain
FIX AFTER FIX AFTER FIX
More often…more intense…longer…stronger…
What drug can compare to you?
My ever present addiction…
Opiate of my obsession
Drug of my choice….
YOU!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Was struck by a bolt of inspiration on this one! :)
Belt it out with Amy Winehouse…..”They wanted to take me to rehab, but I said ‘NO, NO, NO’.” ;) When I teach my students a rule or so in grammar, I say, for example, "Can you use a comma to join two independent clauses? Is it enough punctuation?" Then, in answer, I belt out with Amy..."NO, NO, NO!" They laugh!
I am, I was and I will be
As I live in each heart through death;
I yield to no oath or no shackle
I stimulate all with my breath.
I speak the words of love's passion
I know the damage of sorrow;
I hold the reigns of compassion
I reach for the dreams of tomorrow.
I dream in the fire of the jewel
I sleep in the blood of the tree;
I speak to the beast of the forest
I walk thiis earth and am free.
I've felt the sharp arrows of pain
I've joined in the laughter of mirth;
I've danced to the devil's refrain
And know death is not better than birth.
I don't live in a convent or cave
Or in an ancient kingdom above;
Here on this side of the grave
Is where I shall labor and love.
He's got a big ego,
he keeps offending people,
he scoops the same scoop,
and round and round we loop,
until the bubble pops
and the world sees him flop,
reject the rude,
deflate your ego,
swearing kills the mood,
you able?
I'm getting too cocky,
I could outbox Ali,
wrestle with The Rock
reach the top and stop and mock,
ego full of stock
forget the tick tock
because I'm 24 7
until I get into heaven,
insomnia beckons
and amnesia threatens,
bend rhymes like Beckham,
dunk punks like Jordan,
the mental perfection
with its rhyme injection,
about to live the lesson
of the ego outstretchin'
the limit it can flex,
the crux, the critical,
I rhyme the old skool
and wear hip hop shoes,
I hate the mumble flop
with the words unused,
it's just ear abuse,
on the loose,
with no use,
it's noise with no excuse.
I suspect that this project
will impact and inflict,
sick tricks, and then retract
and evaporate back
to the gods intact,
before it's redirected
to another level head,
who wrecks and blows it,
crash the car,
went too far,
you go from feeling cool,
to a sample of your stool,
that big head
now gone and the face left red,
baking big mistakes,
taking punches from a heavyweight,
David doesn't always beat Goliath,
cometh the hour,
cometh the coffin,
you can't stimulate with coffee
because the heart stopped beating,
the soul is set free
and this world you're leaving,
beaten down with ease,
lying dead and bleeding,
how's that big ego?
You still offending people?
One hand holds but the other can't reach,
near rhymes aren't real rhymes
and sand doesn't mean a beach,
but if you find the flow,
find a way to wined the cable,
then transmit clear and stable,
and accurate like a machete
you'll rhyme like a line of spaghetti,
but with deadwood on your lead
and at ease in your bed head,
because it feels so easy with an ego,
then know it wont make a good show,
so put your feet on the ground
be aware of how the words sound,
leave behind the prima donna
or become another gonna,
stop the passive aggression,
or accept a massive regression,
fill your minds storage with knowledge
beyond the college,
there's always more to learn
and more wood to burn,
big heads remove themselves
when they burn their own shelves.