#412 Nov 9, 2012
If love becomes a shade of gray,
And 'pon the canvas of your life
The figures blur and perspective sways,
Close your eyes and paint the passions of your crimson heart.
When you open them you shall find
Your lover's portrait staring back at you,
The gleam of hope shimmering in her eyes,
And your love shall be renewed.
#413 Nov 11, 2012
all love is true love
the flames of one fire
that burns everlasting
a life-giving gyre
back to the furnace
and forward again
a turning of circle
without start or end
all life is true love
and so it returns
increased as it burns
we may deny it
embrace it, ignore
it goes on in spite of
what we think itís for
#414 Nov 11, 2012
The twilight in your years are the periphery
of the nights that passed you by
scattering stars in winds of a lament
and falling by your eye
They came and went the seasons all
three months or one more each year
now that the years are falling over
the edge of yesterday
where will you keep the Winter
the Summer the Spring the Fall
No more the shadows of midday fall
on the street of distant dreams
no more the tinsel lights look down on you
slow dancing with the moon
Why then blame the lapwing for its pensive call
why then count the holes in your passions gone
why then wait for a sleep to come
that which has no dream
why then look at the mirror in the darkness
it does not tell you lies
Would it not be better to watch the horizon askew
a falling of the ocean over an edge or two
the shore is wet with the high tide
the low one will take you home
wait for the ocean to send you the last wave
and go then, for there may be no more
#415 Nov 11, 2012
I'm aware of love and how it exists,
unconditional; a one sided kiss.
I prefer two hearts, beating as one drum,
conditional lips, longing their autumn.
Falling in deeper, than ever before,
promises from souls, seek truth evermore.
Though some place their faith, in hearts that fail love,
though love can't fall short, of what their short of.
So please do not use, a heart with pure hope,
for some bestow lies, then hearts become broke.
I know I try hard, to earn peoples trust,
though I'm just a man, I'm one that's honest.
So let the people do their sweet talking,
while I weave mere words, that my heart's walking.
Though I must say here, I've met some sweet souls,
that take skies of grey, and paint pure rainbows.
#416 Nov 12, 2012
So this is what it's like when love
leaves, and one is disappointed
that the body and mind continue to exist,
exacting payment from each other,
engaging in stale rituals of desire,
and it would seem the best use of one's time
is not to stand for hours outside
her darkened house, drenched and chilled,
blinking into the slanting rain.
So this is what it's like to have to
practice amiability and learn
to say the orchard looks grand this evening
as the sun slips behind scumbled clouds
and the pears, mellowed to a golden-green,
glow like flames among the boughs.
It is now one claims there is comfort
in the constancy of nature, in the wind's way
of snatching dogwood blossoms from their branches,
scattering them in the dirt, in the slug's
sure, slow arrival to nowhere.
It is now one makes a show of praise
for the lilac that strains so hard to win
attention to its sweet inscrutability,
when one admires instead the lowly
gouge, adze, rasp, hammer.......
fire-forged, blunt-syllabled things,
unthought-of until a need exists:
a groove chiseled to a fixed width,
a roof sloped just so. It is now
one knows what it is to envy
the rivet, wrench, vise ......whatever
works unburdened by memory and sight,
while high above the damp fields
flocks of swallows roil and dip,
and streams churn, thick with leaping salmon,
and the bee advances on the rose.
#417 Nov 14, 2012
Talking in bed ought to be easiest
Lying together there goes back so far
An emblem of two people being honest.
Yet more and more time passes silently.
Outside the windís incomplete unrest
builds and disperses clouds about the sky.
And dark towns heap up on the horizon.
None of this cares for us. Nothing shows why
At this unique distance from isolation
It becomes still more difficult to find
Words at once true and kind
Or not untrue and not unkind.
#418 Nov 14, 2012
I want you between my thighs...
But donít take that explicitly.
I just want you near me.
Take it passionately. Take me passionately.
Hear me, whisper sweet nothings in your ear before
you fall asleep.
Wake up to, a solid girl by your side.
Then, return to my thighs because my body missed
I want to be underneath you...
And take that how you want it.
Take me how you want me.
Consider yourself lucky.
Trust me I never was too comfortable with trusting.
But your drive and your grind, it rushed me.
And as you thrust me, trust me.
I feel uncontrollably blissful, and undeniably
I want you inside me...
Take that mentally, verbally, physically.
I donít know how else to express it.
Iím handing you my body on a silver platter.
My mind, profess it. And even when it gets hectic
Love me, like youíre restless.
#419 Nov 14, 2012
Her hands were cold,
And she was sad and didn't know why,
And he left her,
Like out of the blue,
Dumped and damaged,
She recalled his hot and intense kisses,
Like shot of whiskey poured down her throat,
And her mind was numb just thinking about him
and his hands on her,
Pressing into her impressions
that she never forget,
Grabbing, caressing and kissing,
Again and again and again,
Now all faded into the wall of memories that she have to hold back,
In order to not fall apart,
What was romance?
And why was she so hurt,
Knowing it wasn't meant to be with such a bad boy,
But to have love for once in return
would be so wonderful,
She walked on by,
hoping that faithful time
would heal all those wounds,
Wishing she hadn't let a guy in to ruin her world,
Letting down her guard just to simple suffer,
Oh silly beautiful girl,
keep your head up and you'll find
a better off man who won't
just want to get into your pants,
For in your dreams you have plans
that one day dreams will come true,
may it be with or without a toy boy.
#420 Nov 14, 2012
And you wouldnít know what itís like to have everything taken away.
Not just once.
Not just twice.
But over and over and over again.
Like some melancholy tune you used to hear your parents play as they stared off into space.
Lost in their own memories.
To have it all stripped away.
You wouldnít know what it is to lose
a part of yourself every time you have to rise.
That feeling only comes when you sacrifice everything for one thing.
That part of you is lost forever.
It never ever comes back
and you will never see it again,
So that every instance you do get up,
Youíre not quite whole.
Youíre less of a person.
Thatís what that feeling is.
You didnít fail.
You lost a part of yourself to eternity.
To be so intense and focused,
That you plain just donít have time
for anyone or anything
outside of what youíre doing.
How selfish you are.
To want to be part of that
by somehow trying to convince me
itís a problem with my attitude.
To include yourself in something great
and think so little of it.
I know who I am.
I know what I stand for.
I know my ambitions at the smallest dwarf
yours at the highest.
I feel your anger when you look at me.
And I choose not to return it.
My eyes hold the bitter resiliency
of a million falls.
A lifetime of wasted seconds and
miniscule conversations that amounted to nothing.
I dare not show you or the world that strength.
You wouldnít know what to make
of the fear you would feel.
A bone chilling symphony
rattling against your complete soul.
A complete reminder that
your life has been nothing,
And that mine, has been everything.
#421 Nov 14, 2012
When the hounds are too weak
to pursue a foolish lover
the gates of Hell unfurl
And black swans
swarm in the sulfurous plume
A fugue of her memories
blotting out the sun
like a mad flock of black swans.....
Throwing shadows that stick to your breath
so every word has the shape of your agony
a foolish lover is beset with storms
that gather on the tongue like a French kiss
and the swell of her breasts
are now the dim fruits
that blight your lips with longing
This love is the mark of a beast
A beast that picks up around the house
before she drops by...
to break it's heart.
#422 Nov 17, 2012
When I see you I can feel you
In my soul - my heart takes flight.
I can hardly wait to taste you
In the darkness of the night.
I feel your breath so hot and sweet
Circling in my soul.
When our bodies come to meet
It's then that I feel whole.
#423 Nov 17, 2012
Oh my love! I have breathed you in
Through the pores of my love - quenched skin;
For ours was not a moon laden with honey.
It was a moon bursting with fire,
Satiated by the drippings
Of our mutual desire.
Oh my love! You course through my veins,
Intermingled with what blood remains.
No longer does my heart pump that vital potion.
It crests your love like a waving ocean,
Bounding to shore with impassioned force;
Returning to its aortic source.
Oh my love! To what do I rush
To a desperate school girl's crush?
A pounding tsunami crashing my heart's shores?
A woman's passions sweating musk from my pores?
Which? I cry to the deaf - mute choir?
True love or unrestrained desire?
Oh my love! In which is it filed?
In the whimsy of a fickle child?
In an immature girl's intimate embrace?
Or in a woman's passionate grace?
Enlighten my aortic route.
Swell my love. Erase my doubt.
“A beautiful Lady..”
Since: Mar 12
:o) Smile (o:
#424 Nov 17, 2012
Its your road and yours alone.Others may walk it with you but no one can walk it for you...
#425 Nov 17, 2012
Tell me what I'd have to change.
Who would I have to be
To slip into your arms;
for you to make sweet love to me.
Must I climb the highest cliff;
swim along the ocean floor
Crawl over broken glass -
would you demand that I do more?
Could you take me as I am,
with my issues and my flaws
Pull me to your chest without a hesitation
or a pause?
Slide your hungry tongue
between my moist parted lips.
Run your anxious fingers
along my quivering hips.
Wrap me in your passion,
expose your every need.
Press your steamy lips to mine,
every secret freed.
Sprinkle your tears across my cheek,
confess every desire
Moan my name, call me yours,
and set my soul on fire.
Need me more with every breath
that slips into your chest,
Please me nightly, miss me daily,
never compare me with the rest.
Grip my wrists; look in my eyes,
and say the words I long to hear
Kiss me roughly, and weep my name,
forever hold me Baby.
Do I ask for wishes
that could never quite come true?
Is my sin, my greatest fault,
that I can't stop loving you?
#426 Nov 18, 2012
When we kiss, it is more than an action.
It is more than want, lust, or desire.
It is a soul-crushing, heart-wrenching need.
When we kiss, it is never quite enough.
It makes us pull each other closer.
It has us linger a little longer,
hold each other tighter.
When we kiss, it says more than words could.
It combines our heartbeats and breath.
It completes us, making us singular and whole.
When we kiss, it gives us something to hold onto.
It is a reminder of our passion and love.
It is the reason we will never be the same.
When we kiss, we know our lives will never be apart.
#427 Nov 18, 2012
Let me kiss and taste
the parts of you
that nature never showed.
let me discover
the pieces of scribbled paper
inside your silk-smooth skin
Iíd trace it with,
mouth on words
And free the story of beauty
of wondrous lies and afflicting poetry,
That bodies are meant to collide.
Precise and Punctual.......
Like all beginnings on life.
#428 Nov 18, 2012
Okay, Iím ready with
my continual hatred of rhyme,
my refusal to give advise,
a large bottle of Renť Junot,
extra sprigs of rosemary,
and manufactured items
buzzing with electricity,
four and a half books of sci-fi poetry,
analyzable hagiographic data,
unreasonable new categories of everything,
painted mice, eight sided dice,
and the silkworms of verisimilitude.
Under my pillow is a harbor
where the fierce leashes of every District-dwelling mongrel
plummet into my cortex
with great preferment.
#429 Nov 18, 2012
I donít write love poetry.
I donít talk about how your eyes
are brighter than the stars
On my blackest nights
Or spin stories about
the slightest brush of your fingertips
Feeling like the touch of heaven
And your arms holding me
Being like the wrapping of rose petals
Around my heart.
But I will write poetry
About the hope that you give me.
Thatís more important after all,
I can see the stars with my own eyes
And roses are in abundance here
Who knows, someday I may even
Touch heaven myself.
But that hope
The type of hope
that heals instead of hurts
The type of hope
I could never have acquired on my own
That I am thankful for
Even after you take it away
Thatís worth writing about
#430 Nov 18, 2012
If you laid your legs wide enough
to let any rampart vessel of brute intentions
circumference your very sanctum,
Would you manage to let yourself
be aware of losing such anonymity?
When frankly, you let anyone submerge your
inner dungeon and scurry any last remnants of shame
left in you, and blame every men who
harpoon every loveliness left in you, until you
manage to wake up feeling like a battered clay
against the salty bitter marble floor.
Why then, little magnificent folly?
why would you continue to let him
attack you with his beautiful pain and his
wondrous selfishness? Why would you let him
take you full on his dominating reins and notch you firmly against
his wall like a prized hunt? Why would you let him cradle
you on his arms when knowingly he sees you as
a void for his escape rather than his salvation?
Tell me, so I could have enough leverage to hold myself.
When none can tell me how strong I can be alone.
None can tell me how beautiful I can be, when tears becomes
the layer of my very name. The river flowing upon my face
leads an ocean straight into his dream, yet he shuts me out.
He shuts me out because he says my love isnít vast enough
for his world.
I scavenge Heavenís stars for him to know his name has been carve
as a light for me when I get lost and weary.
His face serves as my voice when reality deems to be a gift for survival.
I am scared, says my liquor bottle inside me.
So is, my will to finish this without crying your name.
“A beautiful Lady..”
Since: Mar 12
:o) Smile (o:
#431 Nov 18, 2012
I know you are somebodys because God dont make junk
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