Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Come my dear, enter the dark
Where pain is your bliss
Seduced by this ****** mark
Surrendering to a razor blade kiss

Tonight, touched by tormented lust
Lost in suffering, only to bleed
Abandoning those thoughts of trust
In the seclusion of tortured need

Breathing the sweat of desires stain
A victim to a demon without restraint
Closed inside a mind long gone insane
Where the innocence is there to taint

Come my dear, enter the dark
Where pain is your bliss
Seduced by this ****** mark
Surrendering to a razor blade kiss
Copyright © Chris Smith 2015
A kiss to your nose
For you are as beautiful
As a rose

A kiss to your eyes
For you are as wonderful
As the sunrise

A kiss to your lips
For you are as mysterious
As the eclipse

But most of all, a kiss to you
For always being you





(this was my first attempt at poetry back in 1997, this was the first one saved, there were earlier poems before I never used to keep them)
Copyright © Chris Smith 1997
Never wait for me when far in fields I've gone
mad and wild flowered, abandoned every plan
my mind ebbed and fallen, no never call on me
if when I'm drunk in halcyon hills of day,
or in lucid colors of a pastiche floral parade
never when lost in splendorous meadows
a bird of peace, in hills I fly
amid some heavenly place
where I can only but
dream to die.
A little bit of casual chat to start,
in a hurry dating begins, without much care,
compulsive mating, like clockwork, isn't it the norm?
what more reason is needed for hate to creep in, than this haste?
The forest is still, like a crouching beast, slowly seeping
in to our cells as a tranquil wild feeling,
behind the closed doors of our room mon amour
is busy in some secret ritual I suppose.
I am watching the dance of tangled trees
leaning over the veranda rails of the forest lodge,
door opened, she appeared, asked me in,
across her luscious *******, my name is written in brown,
I get the prompt, like all urban animals would,
lick the chocolate from  her perfect ******* down little by little,
and feel how each swell second by second
"Whatever you deem fit"she suggests, unambiguously
I saw desire dance wildly on her eyes, nature's prompt
I am a yogi, let me confess, my heart set
on the union on the highest level, that tempts
but the demands of here and now, can i reject?
all it says is this"Be a bhogi, seeker of sensual pleasure
as this moment is ripe for that, neglect it at your peril"
I am not  dogmatic though seeker of truth higher,
I have to get ripe more, now I understand,
I obey her, my sensual desire and the call of the moment
I won't fall as this is the truth at the level of flesh.
Yogi--one who seeks truth ultimate by merging the spirit within to cosmic spirit through disciplines of "YOGA"(confluence) including physical and metaphysical practices called "Ashtanga yoga"
(eight path Yoga)  Bhogi--sensualist (The Sanskrit word Bhog is the root of ****)
 Jan 2015 Marieta Maglas
Chuck
It's over
Turn out the lights
Say goodnight
The music is fading
Into white noise

The ball has been dropped
The confetti is now litter
The bottles are empty
The hangovers are hung

Death to the year
Death to the firsts
Forever rest all
but the memories

It is the last day
Of the first of your life
It will never come back
Lament the last night
 Jan 2015 Marieta Maglas
Chuck
We pass on our memories to generations to come
Will we pass on all of our failures, along with triumphs?
Or will we be the omniscient evaluators to filter out pain?

People's victories and defeats spon individuality
The only "sameness" in our lives is that we are all humans
Colorful and beautiful in our smiles and well earned scars

We are "The Givers" of our lives to future generations
Don't hold back! Don't revise. Don't disguise wounds.
Be "The Giver" of the Truth. Be "The Giver" of your life.
Celebrate you.
Next page