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T O P I C R E V I E WVirgo-AriesArtist12/08/03I must not know howto wiggle my bust or butt enoughto attract the guys attentionI was told in the pastI had a sexy model's walkYet at this school, there's n'er a mention...I am regarded as a strangegender-less being hereunworthy of a second glance...What's a woman to dowho's too mature to abuse her bodystill she aches for sincere romance?I don't wish to "hook up",get "drunk" or get "high"with any random manAn intelligent reserve masks a free-flowing dancerbut before realizing this, most have ranWhy must Ispin on through lifewithout bits of sensually flirtatious chat?Or caring caresses,mixed with good intentions,Why must my fantasies remain so flat?Do all guys just wanta well filled-out bodywith whom to act out their sexual dreams?I refuse to vend myselflike the rest of the college harlotswho trade their feminine wiles, like goods for greensI demand at this very instantfrom the compassionate Universiteto whom I've paid excess Karmic duesA loving mutually-basedrelationship of heart and soulthat will become a long lasting fuse...please?...-------------------K"Most people love with restraintAs if they were someday to hateWe hated gently, carefullyAs if we were someday to love"-Venus Trines at MidnightNikiSpeedy RandallAWESOME! ------------------"Never mentally imagine for another that which you would not want to experience for yourself, since the mental image you send out inevitably comes back to you." Rebecca ClarkVirgo-AriesArtistThanks for the input! I really appreciate it. -------------------K"Most people love with restraintAs if they were someday to hateWe hated gently, carefullyAs if we were someday to love"-Venus Trines at MidnightdafremenYou're about as attractive a package as they come in VAA. The wiggly girls are like the toys that let you push a button to see how they work before you buy em. Who wants a toy with half dead batteries that has had everyone else's hands all over it? Nice piece.dafP.S. "Nice piece" meaning your poem. Not the wiggly girls.pixelpixieVAA~ I rarely come to this side of the forum.. but now I will visit more often.I am a 'wiggly girl'.. But I am also more. (Dare I say,) the makings of a Wh0re?I don't give of myself freely, though I have.... and I probably would again. The power of words are as seductive as a poised finger to pursed wet lips. I find myself easily game. I prey upon them and they prey upon me. Like a crazy reserve with nothing like reserve. I have been the fantasy to every man that has touched my life. They see the deep parts of me, even if they'd like to see the 'deep parts of me'. I give them glimpses and well placed words. I give them the fantasy they so want and I so desire to be. It is a mutual using. A transaction of sorts,with not much action to sort.When I am overcome with my yearning, my burden, my fantasy, I am back to this person, this face, this game and who am I playing it with but myself.a chameleon with changeable skin,a cheshire grin. But a spark within.I talk of my real passions.. my lessons in this life and the things I am working to find. I try to share this stream we are rowing down, find an island here or there to sit upon and recollect...to reflect... and in this stuttered silk reflection I often see my poor direction. When did this stream become so parched when did this yearning become so swollen. When? when I only meant to hold him.I try to catch hold of the stillness of the moment, and the words flow out again and become heavy in the air and desire begins anew and I become the person they want me to be,I embrace this dirty side of me. I like to keep a private thrill, I know sometimes it causes ill.........Be it lovely, be it grand, be it poison in my hand..alot of good has come of this..I have shaped lives with a well placed kiss...I was told one time,(so far behind)I wore my sexuality like a sheath, a gossamer gown, but with pointed teethand if I sunk into your depths, you'd scarcely be able to take a breath....But for one conversation to take placewithout laughing (in bad taste)my wicked mind tends to erasethe purity of the written word. Must I always talk of this? When there lies so much more beyond the kiss.....I wish sometimes I could be pure, a saint , a prude, just plain demure... a hint of scarlet at the edgesInstead of facing all the ledges...I jump off and fall, I like the feelingknowing someone's on the ceilingeven now, the words want to comeI hope I'm not the only one....... pixelpixieVAA~I hope your letter comes soon!!! I am excited for you!I thought since poetry was up again, I'd bring this up to the top.. I love your original poem here, and I thought I'd spiral off it and see what the 'wiggly girl' had to say. Okay, I am naughty, but hey, a girl has many facets to her!!!!
I must not know howto wiggle my bust or butt enoughto attract the guys attentionI was told in the pastI had a sexy model's walkYet at this school, there's n'er a mention...
I am regarded as a strangegender-less being hereunworthy of a second glance...What's a woman to dowho's too mature to abuse her bodystill she aches for sincere romance?
I don't wish to "hook up",get "drunk" or get "high"with any random manAn intelligent reserve masks a free-flowing dancerbut before realizing this, most have ran
Why must Ispin on through lifewithout bits of sensually flirtatious chat?Or caring caresses,mixed with good intentions,Why must my fantasies remain so flat?
Do all guys just wanta well filled-out bodywith whom to act out their sexual dreams?I refuse to vend myselflike the rest of the college harlotswho trade their feminine wiles, like goods for greens
I demand at this very instantfrom the compassionate Universiteto whom I've paid excess Karmic duesA loving mutually-basedrelationship of heart and soulthat will become a long lasting fuse
...please?...
-------------------K"Most people love with restraintAs if they were someday to hateWe hated gently, carefullyAs if we were someday to love"-Venus Trines at Midnight
------------------"Never mentally imagine for another that which you would not want to experience for yourself, since the mental image you send out inevitably comes back to you." Rebecca Clark
daf
P.S. "Nice piece" meaning your poem. Not the wiggly girls.
I am a 'wiggly girl'.. But I am also more. (Dare I say,) the makings of a Wh0re?I don't give of myself freely, though I have.... and I probably would again. The power of words are as seductive as a poised finger to pursed wet lips. I find myself easily game. I prey upon them and they prey upon me. Like a crazy reserve with nothing like reserve. I have been the fantasy to every man that has touched my life. They see the deep parts of me, even if they'd like to see the 'deep parts of me'. I give them glimpses and well placed words. I give them the fantasy they so want and I so desire to be. It is a mutual using. A transaction of sorts,with not much action to sort.When I am overcome with my yearning, my burden, my fantasy, I am back to this person, this face, this game and who am I playing it with but myself.a chameleon with changeable skin,a cheshire grin. But a spark within.I talk of my real passions.. my lessons in this life and the things I am working to find. I try to share this stream we are rowing down, find an island here or there to sit upon and recollect...to reflect... and in this stuttered silk reflection I often see my poor direction. When did this stream become so parched when did this yearning become so swollen. When? when I only meant to hold him.I try to catch hold of the stillness of the moment, and the words flow out again and become heavy in the air and desire begins anew and I become the person they want me to be,I embrace this dirty side of me. I like to keep a private thrill, I know sometimes it causes ill.........Be it lovely, be it grand, be it poison in my hand..alot of good has come of this..I have shaped lives with a well placed kiss...I was told one time,(so far behind)I wore my sexuality like a sheath, a gossamer gown, but with pointed teethand if I sunk into your depths, you'd scarcely be able to take a breath....But for one conversation to take placewithout laughing (in bad taste)my wicked mind tends to erasethe purity of the written word. Must I always talk of this? When there lies so much more beyond the kiss.....I wish sometimes I could be pure, a saint , a prude, just plain demure... a hint of scarlet at the edgesInstead of facing all the ledges...I jump off and fall, I like the feelingknowing someone's on the ceilingeven now, the words want to comeI hope I'm not the only one.......
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