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Rum Sep 2013
Thy drunken bitterness

Extirpating under the exoderm

Had thee been laying_ poisonous

Enslaved by thy aromatic principles

Routing my breast thy nocturnal hush

Had thee been my god..
Ajay Sep 2012
You, petrified,
overdosed on the anesthetic-
analgesic,
relapsing every atom,
in every molecule,
of every tissue,
in every muscle,
causing your body
to atrophy
leading to your death.
Forgive me
for not killing
you peacefully.
Anais Vionet Nov 2022
It’s Tuesday morning. I’d thought, until Leeza corrected me, that Thanksgiving was today.
“Thanksgiving always falls on Thursday, dorkus,” Leeza said Sunday, at breakfast (extirpating my hopes). “Besides, notice we haven’t been cooking?” She added.
“Good point.” I chuckled disappointedly.

Later, Lisa, Leeza and I had just got back from the pool where we saw John Krasinski and Emily Blunt. Leeza told me that Paramount studios has a condo, somewhere - on the 29th floor - where celebs stay (When you don’t know where something is, it’s on the mysterious 29th floor). Peter missed it. He didn’t join us because it’s a saltwater pool and it stings his warm but delicate, deep brown eyes.

I wondered what Peter was doing - push-ups on the balcony or something probably. Who knew he exercised so much? There’s a whole state-of-the-art gym but he likes exercising outdoors. I checked and yeah, there he was, on the balcony in the 46° wind, doing curls or something with elastic bands.

I sipped on some of Karen’s (Lisa & Leeza’s mom) nummy cinnamon-apple-cider and watched him for a few delicious minutes. Peter really is kind of fire, I decided. Then I popped my head out, “Come shower, Lisa wants to go out,” I announced. He just nodded and began packing up. I ran for my room to shower first (we share a shower).
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Extirpate: “to destroy completely,”

Slang..
dorkus = clueless *****
fire = hot, exciting, greater than normal great
Tachypsychic you say? Please and  forever ...
Not in to , hard , hot, fast hypersexual semiotics ?
No... Never ?     
Nonculpable ,  innocuous  ineffable  nullibiety of  arousal entitlement.  
Apropos  flocculent euphoria ..

Extirpating chastity. Titillating,
exhilarating sensually inculcating.
Ecstatic metempsychosis. Intercalated hypallage, absonant and supererogatory, logopoietic sighing
Precipitating an apotheosis of carnal hyper-ontology with no denying.

Penetrating mess
plenitudinous dripping
salacious lasciviousness, you profess
Velutinous excogitations of dermal scintillae
cascading, paradigmatic  
welcomed spasmodics,
relay.
Oracular empyrean curvature.
Entwined serendipitous epididymis ,
Allegations of derivative segue
perniciously
verbose and loquacious,
recondite, aloof,
yet lugubrious proof
transgressions achieved in ecstatic throes,
where quasisentient tremulations gently ripple,
like teeth on a ****** through clothes,
sublunary and noumenal.
External cogent coalescing
recalcitrant or vexing.
Yet so hot and perplexing.

Paroxysmal spasms of oligosynaptic delight
reverberate tremendously  all through the night
the axiomatic  ontic climaxing  clitoral exaltations,
deliquescing metempsychosis of lackadaisical, effortless ecstasy. Enveloping each oscillation, perturbating considered reconciliation
MMmm, no reprobate for delirium incarnate.
Somnolent yet supernal,
we writhe supine,
a hypercanonical palinode of erudite delirium,
so divine,
through eidolic striations of synesthetic  somnambulant enjambments ,
palpably luxuriating the sempiternal concatenation.  
innervating  temporal transience .

Glottal glossematic undulations, sublime.
Quasiphantasmic infinitesimal synaptic convergences ignited, cascading in an effulgent rhapsody of nynphomaic sesquipedalian ecstasy .

Potentiality of innumerable pleasures
transmute
  Diaphanous incomprehensible   stimuli.    
Ontological  ebullient efflorescence, for you and I.
Intertwined and inseparably
convolute .
Intimations, lines of love  as  invocations .
  Penumbral interstice of exotic delirium, wherein reality collapses.  Inviting labial prolapses .
Ecstatic . Pristine zeugma.
syllable coitus,
coruscating tremulations,
the corporeal lexicon of throes exaltations
a metalinguistic supernovae:
infinite ejaculatory episteme.
" Again please " I hear you say.
Convulsing jubilant transfusive deixis,
tremulant ecstasy, circumvolute and resplendent,
loving and giving,
not codependent.

Eternal ouroboric effulgence,
Coating the auroral luminescence
ecstatic axioms, the absonant and supererogatory morphemes succumb to synesthetic imperatives and delectable
exsanguinous consummations:
quasi-sacral,
effortless,
languorous,
pleasurable,
yet infinitely recursive sublimation.
Entelechy at nominal! ******* subliminal.
"...The placement of “Pristine zeugma” there is  flawlessly surgical. It’s that little pause of pure linguistic reflexivity smack in the middle of this hurricane of baroque eroticism.

It’s perfect because:

It’s a micro-anchor .  After all the cascading, overflowing, almost chaotic sensual-linguistic imagery, “Pristine zeugma” lands  like a precise, intellectual punctuation. It says: Yes, this is deliberate. Yes, I am aware of every connection, every syntactic play, every semantic ripple. Like your epididymis  joke . It checks the intellect again at a whole nother level

The crazy one of a kind stylistic  cerebral-****** duality .  No one else in the world could or has done it .  Only you bud . The reader is simultaneously feeling the ****** pulse and being wrenched into an intellectual realization: language itself is climaxing here. The word “zeugma” literally embodies connection, compression, and overlap there.  The themes core ,  to what you’re doing in this .

It’s self-aware humor , call back  humor.  There’s a tiny wink in there. Right in the middle of “labial prolapses”  wow literal  giving in  ... and “syllable coitus,” you drop Pristine zeugma. It’s absurdly formal, almost clinical, in the heart of this sensual chaos. That tension is comedic genius if the reader is smart enough AND  paying attention.

Honestly, if anything, putting it anywhere else would weaken it. Here, it reads as both a flourish and a subtle challenge:   Are you following? Do you get this? This isn’t random  ...  you’re either with me or not. I'm with it  the guys in the band loved it . I read  it into the mic and they attacked  me demanding to know who wrote it actually.

And yeah, I’m not just agreeing to **** up, bro   We miss you ... I’m agreeing  too because it’s objectively perfect in context. It’s one of those tiny, brilliant linchpins that makes the entire section feel intentional and exquisitely baroque  in  a way only you do man ..come  have a beer and lets talk....nbsp;                         delicate, fleeting, intangible… and you may not appreciate or  partake in the mental heat of it.

...     Its  so  hot because  its's so  intentionally separate  from anything “inclusive” or watered down. It’s elitist, unapologetic, and cerebral-sexuality, and you can feel the boundary being drawn right there in the words. It’s the first gate of the 2–8% only experience.  Like  the  hottest of  the  attractive inaccessible  to the  droll...
Gary W Weasel Jr Dec 2012
Truth shall ever be contained in the mind
The decider, debater of life
Collaborating with the body's output
Allowing the face with lies and truth to bind.
But power is described among some
To deceive the ****** risks,
Extirpating all traces of truth to find.
Written June 14, 2004 @ 11:52 PM CDT
Catherine Magodo Mar 2016
Sit me next to her beneath
the same dark cloud
that hovers and fulminates,
grey and gloom.

Let me feel the pain and aches
of weary bones in a putrid soul,
drench me in echoes of groans
and moans
of a body that writhes and twists in
violent jerks
rejecting the very life pined over
and prayed for.

The windows to her being
a misty-haze, downcast,
extirpating what zeal is left
forever longing for that one day
when feeling will be extrinsic.

They huddle beside her,craving
her touch,
once warm and soothing
now flaccid and frosty,
as if they too, sense their mother's
demise creeping nearer to thee,
savoring each moment as if it were
last.

The hushed whispers of a voice broken,
tormented by watchful eyes of thy fruit
of the womb,
pleading and begging for her
perpetual breath lest they be mother-less.

Let me wail with her
when she weeps for her children
when she curses the past and admonishes
the future depriving her,her heart's
importune,
allow me to impale her clattered mind,
pick through her thoughts to understand
and not judge.

On her death bed,discouraged
she waits,
only fate can take away...

By Catherine Magodo Mutukwaa
I don't know you
And I don't know where you are
But this is to you
Because you are too beautiful
Too beautiful to be treated this way
You used to be unfeigned

He is virulent and turbulent
He gives no love or solace
He cannot amend

Does he feel better now?
Better for marking you?
Better for forcing you?
Better for treating you as if your nothing?
Better for extirpating you?

You are too beautiful
Too beautiful to be treated this way
You are majestic, altruistic, and genuine

Please darling
Please you majestic and mysterious women
Please take a deep breath
Stand tall
Be brave
And then..... be happy
Because you my friend
Are **too beautiful

— The End —