Debut Write
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
A Sweet Rose
Grab the knife
Get the gun
Place the letter
Life full of mistakes
Knife has cut
Gun is loaded
Letter is placed
Life full of sorrow
Make last calls
Say last words
Cry last tears
Life full of heartache
The knife ripping through skin
Blood coming from the open wound
Pain drowning out the outside world
Life full of loss
Laying on the bed
Blood pouring onto it
Life draining from the wound
Life full of disappointments
Breathing the last breath
A man leaving this world with a smile
A man that was once is now no more
Life is no more
People cry
People mourn
People forget
Life now but a memory
Lay the dahlias
Lay the tulips
Lay the roses
A rose for a sweet life now gone forever
Grab the knife
Get the gun
Place the letter
Life full of mistakes
Knife has cut
Gun is loaded
Letter is placed
Life full of sorrow
Make last calls
Say last words
Cry last tears
Life full of heartache
The knife ripping through skin
Blood coming from the open wound
Pain drowning out the outside world
Life full of loss
Laying on the bed
Blood pouring onto it
Life draining from the wound
Life full of disappointments
Breathing the last breath
A man leaving this world with a smile
A man that was once is now no more
Life is no more
People cry
People mourn
People forget
Life now but a memory
Lay the dahlias
Lay the tulips
Lay the roses
A rose for a sweet life now gone forever
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
I know what lies there deep between your thighs
And I never thought you’d want me to share
The wonder that hides there.....
Between your thighs.
Caramel, Sable, rich deep and very able
To bring a king such as I right down to my knees
In wonder with just a little taste
Of what lies between your thighs.......
I’ve craved it. I’ve wanted it
I’ve dreamed it and I’ve felt it's power
Plush and wet
Hot as a liquid fire; full of hedonistic desire...
.....to be filled-from the rim to the very depths of your core
To be stroked ever so slowly, so gently
To be made moist; let it rain, let it rain
I savor your precious nectar again and again
My words massaging your deepest pleasures
Making your pearl throb and pulsate
Causing your hips to undulate
In perfect rhythm to all my love that awaits........
Plugging deeply in between your heaven on Earth
Holding me deep inside. Taking from me every drop
Of creamy warm soothing nectar I possess
Drowning me......killing me softly with your song.
Riding every single wave of bliss that exist between you and I
Between those beautiful caramel colored thighs
O I can feel you; I want to reach out and touch you
To forget the past; the apprehensions
The fears, the insecurities..........
and simply embrace you; hold you , feel you
Squeeze you - get inside you; to spread my love all around U
‘Cause I know what lay nestled between those thighs......
That which I thought I was not worthy to have and know- but I still know
That constant craving between those luscious caramel cream thighs
Such powers inside that only a queen, my queen can possess
I know and want what lies between your beautiful thighs
Anonymous
Laurels of A Dullard Species
Who can claim holiness today?
while wallowing together,
netted by cyber-worlds,
locked in electro-carnal relations....
Who can claim magic blues-boy mileage today?
all rooted in chairs,
in front of electric windows,
agog with fiction-profiles,
most attractive, yet dreamed
Who can say that they are of nature and pine?
choking on petrol fumes
that reach deep into their mortality,
insisting on covering their heads,
with metal sheets when they travel
abandoning their winds,
their pure air,
their true god-light as natural beings
Who can lead the life of Christ?
all inoculated,
safe from Anthrax,
safe from pollen,
heat and cold not willing or capable of Jesus' burden...
the savior of own sin,
not willing or capable of holiness...
dependent on ghosts for a fictitious salvation
Who will re-discover our humanity again?
to know the miracle again of discovering
the boundaries of Heaven as they caress the Earth
to love courageously again,
where fear of rejection and fear of ridicule
remain only for cowards
to be able to sing with angelic voices our abilities:
to hold one's love as holy and deserving of praise
to be consistently capable of mercy as gifted unto families,
and forget our animal desires to kill out of fear
Who will teach and live to inform?
to memorize the formulas of history and science,
so that the laws of the world do not fade
into the circuits of A-I coldness
to nurture the synapses of biological logic,
the muscle memory of algebraic strength
to build new wonders and numeric strings
to uncover those eyes that poverty has hooded,
that class and bloopers of economy would deem unworthy,
to free minds/spirits & sweep away the ache of ignorance,
the clinging holocaust of dogma,
the cults of guilt and judgment..death rides of fanaticism...freedom from mini-messiahs: Jones/Hitler/Popes/Calvin/Mao/Manson/Stalin/Castro/Regan/Putin/Hussein/Escobar/Koresch/Presley/Nixon/Hubbard/??????????
Who will remind us of our arts?
to drum under the influence of root and extract,
to pipe and blow into the lung-hearts of stalk and reed
to catch our images innocent in their pride, not out of ego,
but expression of self and selves,
communions of man,
to bend metal and bond,
to grind and shape, stone, oil, water,
dyes and tears of joy, shed in tribute to the bounty of God
to look back onto Leonardo, Monet,
Masters Dutch and French,
Scholars of the ash-can,
cubist and Reuben’s cherubic nudes
to paint the body, to pierce and stretch...in an effort mimicking our dream-selves,
to suffer pains invested in animal guises
Who will remind us of our humility?
When we disregard the prophets of our own nature,
the angels of our divine intent,
the seraphim chorus of pure spirit sound
the crime is consciousness without conscience,
awareness of our own apathy,
the submittal to the baser core.....
the love of the false-self...
To embrace yourself is to hold nothing,
so live while you can, not when you must
Who can claim holiness today?
while wallowing together,
netted by cyber-worlds,
locked in electro-carnal relations....
Who can claim magic blues-boy mileage today?
all rooted in chairs,
in front of electric windows,
agog with fiction-profiles,
most attractive, yet dreamed
Who can say that they are of nature and pine?
choking on petrol fumes
that reach deep into their mortality,
insisting on covering their heads,
with metal sheets when they travel
abandoning their winds,
their pure air,
their true god-light as natural beings
Who can lead the life of Christ?
all inoculated,
safe from Anthrax,
safe from pollen,
heat and cold not willing or capable of Jesus' burden...
the savior of own sin,
not willing or capable of holiness...
dependent on ghosts for a fictitious salvation
Who will re-discover our humanity again?
to know the miracle again of discovering
the boundaries of Heaven as they caress the Earth
to love courageously again,
where fear of rejection and fear of ridicule
remain only for cowards
to be able to sing with angelic voices our abilities:
to hold one's love as holy and deserving of praise
to be consistently capable of mercy as gifted unto families,
and forget our animal desires to kill out of fear
Who will teach and live to inform?
to memorize the formulas of history and science,
so that the laws of the world do not fade
into the circuits of A-I coldness
to nurture the synapses of biological logic,
the muscle memory of algebraic strength
to build new wonders and numeric strings
to uncover those eyes that poverty has hooded,
that class and bloopers of economy would deem unworthy,
to free minds/spirits & sweep away the ache of ignorance,
the clinging holocaust of dogma,
the cults of guilt and judgment..death rides of fanaticism...freedom from mini-messiahs: Jones/Hitler/Popes/Calvin/Mao/Manson/Stalin/Castro/Regan/Putin/Hussein/Escobar/Koresch/Presley/Nixon/Hubbard/??????????
Who will remind us of our arts?
to drum under the influence of root and extract,
to pipe and blow into the lung-hearts of stalk and reed
to catch our images innocent in their pride, not out of ego,
but expression of self and selves,
communions of man,
to bend metal and bond,
to grind and shape, stone, oil, water,
dyes and tears of joy, shed in tribute to the bounty of God
to look back onto Leonardo, Monet,
Masters Dutch and French,
Scholars of the ash-can,
cubist and Reuben’s cherubic nudes
to paint the body, to pierce and stretch...in an effort mimicking our dream-selves,
to suffer pains invested in animal guises
Who will remind us of our humility?
When we disregard the prophets of our own nature,
the angels of our divine intent,
the seraphim chorus of pure spirit sound
the crime is consciousness without conscience,
awareness of our own apathy,
the submittal to the baser core.....
the love of the false-self...
To embrace yourself is to hold nothing,
so live while you can, not when you must
Northern Stillness
Well north of the bustling city
before the crackle of night's winter fires
hard hats, black backs and frozen fingers
shiver starkly in time with their iron picks
sharp strikes upon the icy earth,
shattering the frozen northern stillness.
Well north of the bustling city
before the crackle of night's winter fires
hard hats, black backs and frozen fingers
shiver starkly in time with their iron picks
sharp strikes upon the icy earth,
shattering the frozen northern stillness.
She lies with me and we are still
Yet in my mind, forever moving,
images of her, so many fill
my senses; exciting, soothing,
and I forever see and smell and feel:
her eyes, her hair, her skin, her smile
and every place and time with her is real
inside my memory. And all the while
she lies asleep, not knowing that all the days
and joys and pain and love and song
are with me now, and now and always.
No moment shared is ever gone,
the whole of our togetherness is now
and it is she who makes it so.
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Surrounding Infinity
I can see the moon embraced
strangled
tangled
and tightly laced
by the obesity
of the heavy water bearing clouds
I can see it fall slowly
like in water
from the infinity that surrounds.
Reflecting the combustion
of the solar flare
a reflective
directive
naturally operative
forever been there
beaten up
misunderstood
dusty ,has no blood
sattellite
of suspension in the air .
It gives off a marble reflect
a second hand prospect
of pearled stone
throughout the darkness
and mysteriousness
of a world thats so alone .
Published on the 20th of December 2009
I can see the moon embraced
strangled
tangled
and tightly laced
by the obesity
of the heavy water bearing clouds
I can see it fall slowly
like in water
from the infinity that surrounds.
Reflecting the combustion
of the solar flare
a reflective
directive
naturally operative
forever been there
beaten up
misunderstood
dusty ,has no blood
sattellite
of suspension in the air .
It gives off a marble reflect
a second hand prospect
of pearled stone
throughout the darkness
and mysteriousness
of a world thats so alone .
Published on the 20th of December 2009
LAZARUS
The earth fell away
Leaving a wake of hollowness
Heavier than worlds compressed.
My poles reversed, my hope, my Lazarus, my less hope.
Paralysed by an absence of reason to be;
I cannot pray or shave.
Never laughing, never to cry to shake the night.
I sleep. You don’t. Don’t play. Don’t grow old.
Instead, you grow brittle.
Are we reborn?
Shall I look for your light in others eyes and sunrise,
In candlelight, spinning tops, corner shadows falling?
Bow lips, eyes shut, small feet; red eyes, dry lips.
Nothing weighs as little as my dead baby’s hand,
Except where ahead lay.
The earth fell away
Leaving a wake of hollowness
Heavier than worlds compressed.
My poles reversed, my hope, my Lazarus, my less hope.
Paralysed by an absence of reason to be;
I cannot pray or shave.
Never laughing, never to cry to shake the night.
I sleep. You don’t. Don’t play. Don’t grow old.
Instead, you grow brittle.
Are we reborn?
Shall I look for your light in others eyes and sunrise,
In candlelight, spinning tops, corner shadows falling?
Bow lips, eyes shut, small feet; red eyes, dry lips.
Nothing weighs as little as my dead baby’s hand,
Except where ahead lay.
Word Fetish
Write me a letter, a song
Hate mail, or anything
Combine nouns and adverbs
For that perfectly honed sting
Caress my frontal cortex
With that silver tongue
Seduce my synapses
This romance has begun
Your subtle nuances
Make it hard to detect
Quit boring me with platitudes
Molest me with your intellect
To seek and to find
My most sumptuous bits
To unclasp and grasp
My dazzling wits
I didn't think it ever
Needed to be said
The best foreplay I've had
Is when you play with my head
My mind to be precise
You cannot be mistaken
If you use the right words
There's no need to be faking
More adjectives and metaphors
I'm about to go insane
This isn't the only time
I take the lord's name in vain
Oh god I think I'm coming
To the inevitable conclusion
That this truly is
My only absolution
I penetrate your mind
When you hadn't a clue
My pen planted seed
I just mind fucked you too
I'm a sexual intellectual
In double entendre I dabble
I can't help but smile when asked;
"Who's down for some Scrabble?"
Write me a letter, a song
Hate mail, or anything
Combine nouns and adverbs
For that perfectly honed sting
Caress my frontal cortex
With that silver tongue
Seduce my synapses
This romance has begun
Your subtle nuances
Make it hard to detect
Quit boring me with platitudes
Molest me with your intellect
To seek and to find
My most sumptuous bits
To unclasp and grasp
My dazzling wits
I didn't think it ever
Needed to be said
The best foreplay I've had
Is when you play with my head
My mind to be precise
You cannot be mistaken
If you use the right words
There's no need to be faking
More adjectives and metaphors
I'm about to go insane
This isn't the only time
I take the lord's name in vain
Oh god I think I'm coming
To the inevitable conclusion
That this truly is
My only absolution
I penetrate your mind
When you hadn't a clue
My pen planted seed
I just mind fucked you too
I'm a sexual intellectual
In double entendre I dabble
I can't help but smile when asked;
"Who's down for some Scrabble?"
