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L Meyer Oct 2013
There once was a proper noun,
who started hanging with the wrong crowd.
With alluring adjectives who handed out compliments like candy
− gob smacking gossipers with an opinion on everything.
And with thrill-seeking adverbs,
who buddied up to the most dangerous of companions;
crash, dive, hurl, and gamble (to name a few).

Until the day the sentence came rambling into town,
planting punctuation in the form of kisses
on the noun’s eyelids, earlobes, and collarbone.

Provoking such admissions as, “My thighs stuck
to the black leather seats under the hot, cloudy skies
of that August afternoon, and my hair whipped
like willow branches in the wind,
when I rode on the back of his motorcycle.”
or, “He greets me every morning with a sun-drenched kiss”,
and, “The tulips were picked fresh from the ditch of
a curvy, country road, but now sit in a
vase by my bed, and are slowly wilting away.”

It would eventually be made clear
that the sentence had a nasty habit
of propositioning prepositions,
only to leave them hanging,
and to place things in parenthesis,
that simply did not belong.  

And so, the sentence would wind up leaving town,
or “run-on”, as the noun liked to tell it.
Went chasing after some particularly provocative expletives,
eventually trailing off with a faint set of ellipsis...

And the kindest of adjectives
came cooing after the noun,
calling to her; lovely, lustrous, listless.
And the adverbs brought with them
their gentlest of friends; comfort and console,
to speak with the noun:
softly, tenderly, lovingly- all witnesses.

But it was of no use,
and the noun whispered quietly:
“I have been enchanted with a single kiss
which can never be undone,
until the destruction of language.”


*based off of the poem Permanently, by Kenneth Koch
Jordan Frances Apr 2014
I promised myself
I would not say a word until I am 18
In 1 year 4 months and 8 days from now
But who's counting?
Then I would be able
To make my own decisions
About prosecution
About who to tell.
When we're all off
In our independent fantasy worlds
Everyone's at a different school
So the focus will not be on me.
He will probably still be living in his mother's basement
Talking to girls online
Propositioning them for ***
Meeting them in a stairwell
Bullying them into doing what he wants
And leaving if he doesn't get it
Or once he's been satisfied.
Keeping them awake at night
Beating themselves up over questions like
"Can I even do anything about it?"
Causing them to panic
At the sight of his face
When he still has the audacity to
Say hi to them in the hallways.
Wondering how to classify
Some of the darker things he did.
Were they assault, exploitation, coercion
Or a mix of all three?
And when their friend starts dating him
She heeds warning to her.
The friend doesn't listen the first time
And gets hurt.
Two months later,
She wants to get back with him
The young girl again warns against it
But she doesn't tell her friend why
Because she is protecting herself.
She gets backlash for this
Harassed for being insensitive and horrible.
That came like a slap in the face.
So what will she do now?
Will she speak out to prove herself
Or keep it under lock and key
As she had planned?
What will I do now?
I thought I was getting better
But now it's haunting me
As the situation gets more and more potent
And someone gets hurt either way.
Amelia of Ames Oct 2017
But

You make me smile and laugh
I think of you when I am in a mood
I know seeing you would make it better.

You peel away my shields,
I spill my heart
And you listen intently

I listen too, to your stories
Neither of us conquering the conversation.
We are too two distinct characters.

You are a type I know will not work
I've said this to you,
As we go to the gym, walk, eat together.

In one of our talks, you asked my stance on friends with benefits
Just in general, not propositioning explicitly
I explained no, that's not who I am.

But here we are two planets captured in elliptical orbits.
I brush past your back as I walk away
You hold me from behind to show me a video on your phone

In my head, I think:
You are too young to understand this
This is me being lonely
This is you being a fair option
This is a stupid idea
This is destined to fail
This is destined to happen
This is waiting waiting sweet aching anticipation.
Danial John Mar 2018
You tell me that you ain't ****,
You tell me you're not my type.
Well, only one of those statements
Happens to be right.

However, that's what makes me so confused
It ain't that you ain't ****
It's that you're not my type
Yet I still love you.

You say you love me like a brother
And that's fine.
Just know
That love is not entirely the same as mine.

I'm not propositioning.
That's not my intention.
I just feel that there's something we're both missing... Could help each other with,
And perhaps we once met in another dimension.

Sorry, not sorry for my feelings
They can be hard to control
"Why hide who I am?"
That's something I was recently told.

And maybe your afraid of losing,
Ruining what we have right now.
I get it. I'm ready for risk.
Possibly you're not right now.

I have a sneaking, creeping suspicion
We've meet at an interesting intersection of each other's lives.
No coincidence. Listen to life's mission,
Use your soul. Don't see with your eyes.

I've felt many things,
Interpreted there meaning.
They come and go,
Yet not this wonderful, lovely, strange feeling.
Bo Tansky Jul 2019
Now
Sugar and a little cream
Palliative potion of comfort
Elixir of coffered considerations.
Contemplated and envisaged
Morning brews,
Propositioning sunsoothes
Particles.
Helios sweeping mightlight across
The metallic movingmorn
Undulating nightlight.
Topaz infused
Daydreaming muse
Stirs the digested amnesic night  
Drinks to
  
Apollo offline
Drinks to
The empty holy grail of evening,
While Helios slept.
Hallucinating prophecies of fleeting images,
Succulent hopes of happinesses
Drunken inhaled trippy
Folktales
Of lore
And lay.
Oracled god of prophecy
God of healing
God of poetry
Healing lyrical music medicine
Hear my poemprayer
Hear my prayerpoem
Drink to
Elixir of life
Elixir of love lost.
Drink to
The elixir of a childless day.
Butch Decatoria Nov 2020
C inch the boys in their place,

O bjectified / at attention,  indecent propositioning

C rows those proud chicken hawks loudly.

K illng the blood-flow, *****, at a stand still.

R idgid hoses, denying it

I rrigation or relief

N either giving it room to breathe

G orged on ***,  in a pulsating noose...
The Acrostics

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