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Where (spoken)words happen

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For The Bearded Man

This poem is for the bearded man—

damn.

Y’all are mighty fine.

This is for the bearded laugh with vibrations—

the kind desired between the meat of my thighs.

This poem is for the bearded man—

for the napkins in size 5’oclock shadow,

scruffy,

and Wolfman Jack.

This poem is for the bearded man—

for those of you that oil your follicles with the most natural of creams.

This poem is for you, bearded man—

please understand your attractiveness.

I hope you are catching this not so subtle thirst for those of you who decide to keep perpetual moisture magnets on your face,

around your lips,

the place us women tend to look at second.

This poem is for you, bearded man—

accept it.

Square your shoulders and let it do all the work for you.

This poem is for the bearded man—

for you who don’t mind being scratched like a pup into the deepest of sleep.

This poem is for the bearded man—

and my desires to keep moisturizing them.

Filed under men beards poetry creative writing spoken word hair open letter

6 notes

Playing With My Pussy

She radiates so much heat.

I think that’s why wrapped up in between bed sheets I like to play with her.

Curl up in bed,

lay with her.

Purring.

Playing with my pussy and observe-noting,

learning

the kind of petting she likes best.

In between folds softly—

just the right amount of rubbing,

playful strokes above her lips

strumming

at her whiskers.

Like an instrument, my pussy likes to be played.

And for the most part my pussy behaves because it knows I taught it.

I taught it well…

She likes to tell me when she’s pleased by pulsating,

wetting my fingertips,

meow making

with affectionate licking at my hand.

Playing with my pussy is fun and…

relaxing.

The existential kitty cat fapping between owner and domesticated beast.

My pussy keeps me company on those particularly lonely nights.

And my pussy likes to see me happy.

I love pups too but my pussy has me branded for life.

Dogs are a man’s best friend and a girl’s,

her pussy,

right?

Filed under cats innuendo poetry spoken word creative writing animals pets

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When We Made Love

When we made love we neglected the instructions.

We forgot that there was lust with just a convenient serving of real desire.

We made love without the fire required to activate all the ingredients.

Most of all we weren’t obedient to the Master Of Making…

We made love without taking our clothes off or making our walls soft— easier for penetration.

So the love we made was confirmation of our poor crafting skills.

When we made love we had yet to deal with the other bubbling pots on the burners.

We were students,

culinary love learners given Bs for effort.

When we made love there were so many utensils haphazardly dropped,

so many puddles left lazily unmopped,

plenty burns and bruises to the ego.

When we made love, as far as we know, we included some eggshells, similar to the kind we’re still traipsing around.

When we made love we made it how youngsters craft with Easy Bake Ovens—

ingredients made of virtually nothing and water.

When we made love we should have called for our adult selves to assist us.

Maybe then the opportunity to make real love wouldn’tve missed us and we wouldn’t be stuck pretending there isn’t a kitchen of mess.

Filed under food cooking analogy love intimacy poetry spoken word creative writing

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Adult Relations

He fingered me forward insisting I come.

Insisting he run digits along every opening my mind had to offer.

As if he could get his hands on my thoughts or…

insides.

With my hands tied I allowed him deep entry.

I allowed him to see in me things no other had dared to inquire.

I squealed higher and higher in delight every time he’d touch me

proverbially mind suck me,

every time he figured out something I tried hard to keep from him.

And because my walls were thin, I begged of him to contain his enlightenment excitement.

He had penetrated me right with

proper care,

attention to detail,

and gentility.

It had been new to me—

the spewing outwardly easily,

and he didn’t judge me for doing so.

He didn’t hurt me when he asked to go deeper.

He’d asked to learn me for

the rest of his life.

My first ever night having adult relations.

Filed under conversation talking innuendo poetry spoken word creative writing

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What To Do When You Know Its Over

After you’ve read all the signs,

and

done all your crying,

and

realized your trying efforts are in potent vain,

pick up your spirit and do the same with your soul.

Its the thing to do when you know that its grown cold

dead

and scheduled to be buried.

Know that there’s never any hurry in getting rid of the things

or

unreasonable clings to so called distractions.

There’s never any health in pretending it never happened,

but when its over,

there are things that you should and must do.

Daily remind yourself you’re beautiful.

And charming.

A worthy adversary in any life’s game.

Maintain an attitude of forgiveness—

its a privilege to be able to do so.

When its over you’ll just know

and no return to the former will be able to reverse it.

The things done when over are well worth it,

but first

get to that place of acceptance.

Filed under healing getting over moving on poetry creative writing spoken word

85 notes

My Thighs Touch In The Center

I have no thigh gap.

My thighs touch in the center.

Yes,

they, rub together and cause friction

but listen,

I used to think that if they didn’t men would find me more attractive.

But as luck would have it,

its what causes them to want to fill my void.

Caramel colored earmuffs— they wear stuff all the rage in every season.

I have no thigh gap

which means that all my favorite jeans and pants have holes in them,

I see my knees most on shoulders when—

well,

nevermind.

My thighs touch in the center.

And if you think its better that they don’t,

allow me to allow you the most swiftest of exits,

to make room for one who gets its

never a closed mouth that gets fed.

Nor with a thigh gap will head feel like music to his ears.

I have no thigh gap.

My thighs touch in the center.

Yes,

they, rub together and cause friction

but listen,

if they didn’t

you’d be cold and go hungry.

So,

sorry not sorry for the way they squish and move audibly,

sorry not sorry there’s way more of me to part and grab hold of.

I have no thigh gap love.

if you’re so concerned,

why don’t you put your face there and make one.

Filed under poetry spoken word creative writing women bodies

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The Unceremonious Goodbye

It had happened unexpectedly one day—

the unceremonious goodbye.

There were no pouts, no loud exuberant cries,

not even a shard of regret.

And yet,

I had been expecting something far greater.

Something far more finished.

It was as if I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye at all.

My heart had moved along

and

that

was that.

In fact,

I had been expecting something far more dramatic.

No attitudes, no bitter sayings happened—

it was unceremonious.

It was easily the hardest goodbye in the world.

Filed under poetry relationships breakups creative writing spoken word

9 notes

deezcandiedyamztho:

People keep asking me if they can get a free copy of my book and the answer is NO. Do you work for free? If you love me and care about me so much then you should support my artistic endeavor. This is my job, it’s not a joke or a hobby. You dont go to the dr and expect free service so dont expect it from me. When my book drops I will surely know how many people ACTUALLY support me. Free? Lol people are funny. #ClosedMindOpenHeart #August19th #DeeDay

Dearest Dee,

you remind me of… me, circa 2012…

First, congratulations on accomplishing what most people don’t get to do in an entire lifetime— become immortal through their words and ideas.

Next, I want to prepare you for a few important realities to keep in mind leading up to the day of your big release and even after.

A.) I know you have a list of people in mind whom you legitimately believe will support you by purchasing your work. It is best however, that you not hold your breath. I began my writing journey in 2008 and finally published my first book in 2012. 2014 is on its way out and neither of my own parents have purchased a copy of either of my 2 published works. And we live in the same house… It is easy and comforting to believe that friends and family will be the easiest to convince on board your hopes and dreams float. Do not be disappointed if/when family neglects to give you your easy purchases or friends take advantage of the friendship by asking for free copies. It may happen, and if it does, do not be discouraged. There are folks that I immortalized on my dedication page who probably can’t even tell me what either of my books look like…

B.) Lack of support does not diminish the value of your work. You will be tempted to believe that because your work may not sell as much or as quickly as you imagined, that the quality of your work isn’t worth anyone purchasing it. This idea is false and you should not allow the enemy to suggest those things or have them take root in your spirit.

C.) Your work will always reach the hands (and hearts) of those in which it was meant to. The nature of our work as artists is important. The nature of our work as artists has healing power. The bulk of my book sales always came when least expected and were brought by people who have testified to being/feeling changed in some way. AND they gave me MORE than the retail price of the book BECAUSE they supported my vision and gift. People will find your work and people will purchase and support your work and people will be moved by your work.

On this, the fortnight before your release, literally and metaphorically, it is important that you celebrate and appreciate your process of getting to this very moment. Be reminded of your hard work and dedication to this passion filled body of work. Praise God. Whom but He could have dealt most graciously with you concerning your promise in Christ Jesus. 

Don’t despise these humble beginnings. There is so much in store for you from here.

Again, congratulations. You’ve worked for it. You deserve it.

Your sister in the arts,
Verandah-Maureen

Filed under deezcandiedyamztho

3 notes

Celebrating 12 years of working with children and being an educator THIS September— that’s a few years less than half my life. When you’ve got a passion, even in the face of adversity and set backs, you keep chasing anyway. I am proof that good teachers produce good teachers. Give the gift of learning. It’s the most important thing you could ever do.

Celebrating 12 years of working with children and being an educator THIS September— that’s a few years less than half my life. When you’ve got a passion, even in the face of adversity and set backs, you keep chasing anyway. I am proof that good teachers produce good teachers. Give the gift of learning. It’s the most important thing you could ever do.

5 notes

Its a day of the week like any other. You’re in a good mood because you woke up at 8, alive and full of energy. You hop on your favorite social networking platform of choice. Instantly your good mood plummets as you’re bombarded with notifications, tweets, pictures, posts, and smoke signals— of cute babies, and new houses, and marriages, and new projects, and exotic foods, and new jobs, and engagements, and new hair, and new business ventures, and impressive physiques and make overs, and awards, and new toys and trinkets and technology, and travel, and new clothing, and new cars, and successes, and magic, and general good times.


You hop off of your favorite social networking platform of choice.
Devastated.


You begin to wonder, “why not me?”
“when will it be my turn?”
“what am I doing wrong?”


You begin to believe, “It’ll never happen”
“It isn’t meant for me”
“I don’t deserve it”


Luckily, there is a solution to all of this.


Stop.


MUCH easier said than done, absolutely. Without a doubt.


But so what if you’re an analog watch and everyone else you encounter is digital— you all still tell time.


There’s beauty in process. There’s character and strength in struggle.


The nature of this beast is that it simply must not be compared to another.


You are a dragon. Why on earth be concerned with the trajectory of a mountain lion.


Go forth and prosper.

Verandah-Maureen Shepard “On Being A Millennial: What They Weren’t Prepared To Tell Me” 7/30/14

Filed under life millennials