The Gap, Australia

#3854 Oct 24, 2012
PESCreate wrote:
Wished to come in and say Good Morning Adrian, but I know it most likely is not morning in your neighborhood.
I know I could look and see what the time difference is, but I never do. Maybe one day you will surprise me and we'll be out here at the same time and you will let me know.
There is so much more I would like to say to you, but dang even I know when I am talking too much.
Sex and Poetry - I love them both equally.
Oh, I almost forgot.....

I'm told the sun rises
24 hour cycle approx
I'm told the moon wanes
24 hour ticking clocks

I'm told a lot of things
the earth is round
rain is wet
snow is white
Dogs bite and fish swim
I'm told a lot of things

I can see but not with sight
I can smell but can not trust
I can hear but lack meaning
I can taste but buds conflict
I can touch but contact numbs

The world is deceptive and I opt out
Have your worldy wonders and awe
Love and hate karma and fate
And I will ponder internal lament......

But I must admit I love having intimate relations, with the opposite sex a lot more than I love poetry (FYI)

Cop-u-late (r)?

The Gap, Australia

#3855 Oct 24, 2012
Greatest and most expressive writing
is always from soul
because soul wide open
engages all ambiences and personality
all 'quill' of configuredly constituence being
of human inspiriation, infusion,
and architecture.

'Confidence' is merely another name
for fear
an imaterially abstracted sump hole
into which only the nervous
fall frightened and lost.

Exactly because confidence
has no physical existence
simply putting total trust in soul
and composing from soul
which engages heart and intellect
in goldenly interactive alchemy
you connect all the inner spectrum
required for relish and flourish.

Breeze away infernal clouds of broody
soul doesn't mean not thinking about others
but integrating all as constituent pixels
into creations bigger picture
true unimpededness for creativity.

Never expect acclaim
all readers are unique too
but if it's really sublime
wonderful comments
will usually ensue.

The Gap, Australia

#3856 Oct 24, 2012
We the collective,
weavers of black traffic,
lost on the virgin highway with
the ghosts of the wild.

Silent shining faces
reflect the tears of transit
while the gears grind on.

We share a dream of yesterday
and the hunger of love.


#3857 Oct 24, 2012
Can anyone tell me how to remove a hamster from my a$$? Im a little worried, I just cant seem to get the little guy out of there.
Richard Gere

United States

#3858 Oct 24, 2012
Can anyone tell me how to remove a hamster from my a$$? Im a little worried, I just cant seem to get the little guy out of there.
X Lax, more than you need. Oh man you're going to pay for that for a couple more days!

The Gap, Australia

#3860 Oct 24, 2012
Can anyone tell me how to remove a hamster from my a$$? Im a little worried, I just cant seem to get the little guy out of there.
hey how can that be me.....Nope it ain't me....I can't give myself a prop, can you ??


Copy-Cats flatter me, but they're a dime a dozen.

Adrian DeVine.

The Gap, Australia

#3861 Oct 24, 2012
where is the name

no one answered to

gone off to live by itself

beneath the pine trees separating the houses

without a friend or a bed

without a father to tell it stories

how hard was the path it walked on

all those years belonging to none

of our struggles drifting under

the calendar page elusive as

residue when someone said

how have you been it was

strangely that name that tried

to answer

The Gap, Australia

#3862 Oct 24, 2012
Think of something soft
You know if you inhale
these things will kill ?

So reconsider the soft
choking you get wise
Think of the pragmatic
or lead
if turned against you
these things too will kill

So you're confused
and ever watchful lest
some sharp blow undo you
You hardly ever sleep
You hire a taster for your food
and outside
you never spit
into the wind.

The Gap, Australia

#3863 Oct 24, 2012
See, a hand sweeps stars
from October sky,
as if my grandmother swept off
the supper crumbs from the table at home.

Her apron, slipping now and then, smells of parsley
and chives—
The sweet scent of her long-gone garden
sending me to sleep beside you tonight.. again.

The Gap, Australia

#3864 Oct 24, 2012
The town was built because
of a wall and before the wall.

The weather of having said
everything before is making us sing.

Instead of pointing,
we are moving forward. Holding

our little built world
between us as I try

to make a decision in two
languages at once, the decision

becoming a tourist site.
You’ve seen the pictures.

The Gap, Australia

#3865 Oct 24, 2012
Blood is red.....
And red is blood
And blood means death, and shadow
So red, then, must mean darkness -
But shouldn't that be black?
In people's minds, at least,
red shows evil, and hate,
Yet it should mean so much more
Red is love -
the color of hearts -
and red is sunset and dawn
Red is jewels and flowers
And flowers are love
And jewels are wealth
So should not red be beauty?
Red is joy, not darkness-
Darkness is black.

But night is black.....
And black is night
And the night is moon and stars
They are peace and brightness and hope,
So how does night mean fear?
Black is the pupils of eyes -
eyes lead to the soul -
Black is water
and black is coals
Water is cool
Coals are warmth
And both must lead to calm
So if black is calm,
What color, then, is evil?
Evil has no shade -
Evil is shown elsewhere.

The Gap, Australia

#3866 Oct 25, 2012
licking her finger
she swept it between
the buttons of her blouse

rubbing a soft nipple
till it was moist and hard

while gazing at me
who was watching
from a leather chair

my hand down my pants
as my crotch grows large

still rubbing her nipple
to keep it erect
slipping her other hand
up through the slit in her skirt

rubbing softly
with her
thumb and fore finger
her clitoris
to make it hard

spreading the juice
over her thighs and vagina
widening her legs
to show her pus sy
to lil ol' me

rubbing harder
in swirls and cyclones
gazing intently at
me....who's still watching

my pants now open
my co ck in my
frenzied hand

rubbing in circles
moaning as she did
louder and pressing
down harder
with each rotation

pressing and
moaning her body
thumping against the bed

while I'm watching....

but hell.....not anymore.....

The Gap, Australia

#3867 Oct 25, 2012
candles cry
petals swim

red as virgin sex

scent chases
from heart to groin


alone together
in a sea of silk

scent chases
from lips to head

and roses
swallowing him

The Gap, Australia

#3868 Oct 25, 2012
she wore a
silk bustier
that shaped her
breasts perfectly

half moons of supple
skin grinning out over
full mounds of
seduction dressed in silk

she wore a g-string
between he thighs
that concealed her
hairless vagina

a silk g-string
that divided her ass
into two perfect portions
and highlighted the entrance

she poured herself
into a
silk bustier
and gave me the look

The Gap, Australia

#3869 Oct 25, 2012
(Slutty She.....)

I'm dripping and juicy,
So moist and warm.
I want it so bad,
I need it good and hard.

I want you to fuc k me.
Fu ck me hard
and f uck me soft.

I'm all wet in the pu ssy
and my nipples are hard.
I'm aching and throbbing
longing for your co ck.

I want you to fu ck me.
Fuc k me soft
and f uck me hard.

Stick your big co ck
in my sloppy wet cu nt.
Ram it deep. Ram it fast.
Plow my wet pu ssy until
I tremble and quake.

Then take it out and
shove it in my mouth
and c um in my slutty face.

The Gap, Australia

#3870 Oct 25, 2012
She slips easily into the uneasy night, gliding

joyfully through brush and thorn, dried mud, forests

of fossil leaves. Memory is her friend, memory

is her fluorescent map. Stories unspool

out of her head, she sheds them generously

to the listening night-jar, the night blind owl

that waits to die, the ghosts of those

who went before, whose foot prints show

her the way.

Skin falls away, limbs float gently

apart, she is unmade down to the core

of her once perfect soul. At the end

of her path lies the country of her

birth, the dusty heaven that brewed her

from ancient bones .

At the end of that path she lets go

of memory too.

The Gap, Australia

#3871 Oct 25, 2012
I love the sepia glow of Sydney’s lights

that line the night time street and roads

and offer a view of certainty;

the mismatched jagged flight paths of moths

revel in its cool touch change

into golden winged insects that dance in symmetry.

And under the beam of gold bars

humanity is seen as

staggering red eyed vessels robbed of their wits

by a similar kind of liquid gold

which purges the split pavements of innocence

with still-swamp yellow vomit.

Uncourageous battle cries crack the gemmed night.

Yet, all of humanity cannot be judged

by the same coloured light

because between every other street lamp

is a small shadow.

The Gap, Australia

#3872 Oct 25, 2012
dust blankets every piano’s key
spiders have taken over the easel
air hangs heavy and silent

rain patters on window’s glass
even on a sunny day
the doors stay closed

no one comes to knock or call
newspapers stack outside the door
recall how long it has been so

a cat wanders the floor’s hallway
nobody knows where it lives
suspiscion grows it’s locked out

everyone waits
for a dull thud
and then the smell

I try to believe
the newspapers disappear
and the door will open

the cat comes home
cobwebs are swept and
the dust will lift

rain stops
music starts
writer’s block ends

is created

The Gap, Australia

#3873 Oct 25, 2012
Dreamcatchers hear the tales of fate and chance,

Of glimmers found by sleeping mind;

Dreamweavers spin the thread of this night’s dance.

From fancy’s flight comes matter of a stronger kind:

Nightmares woven into subtle twine

Of glimmers found by sleeping mind.

Then thread by thread and line by line,

A tapestry unveils to wondering eyes –

Nightmares woven into subtle twine.

Beneath the world’s-end shimmering skies,

Where chimera cloak is laid upon the brink,

A tapestry unveils to wondering eyes.

These slumbrous figments stitch themselves in sync

Into countries new and lands unknown –

Where chimera cloak is laid upon the brink.

When dreamers fade into that nightly drone,

Dreamcatchers hear the tales of fate and chance.

Into countries new and lands unknown,

Dreamweavers spin the thread of this night’s dance.

The Gap, Australia

#3874 Oct 25, 2012
She clothes herself in poetry,
seals her skin within the verse.

Each line becomes another garment
that conceals her fixed form's curvature,
but peels away when read.

Last night I dissected a stanza,
clamped it tight between my teeth
and tugged it down her legs.

Her body breathes warm and sweet,
speckled red like a summer strawberry field.

I sucked the juice from her lines and
spit the punctuation like seeds.

My lips mouthed the shape of her words
as my skin grew more sticky with
every splash of imagery dripping down my chin.

I peeled apart her soft pages
with sticky, pink fingertips that left them
clinging to my skin.

A single flawless line remained
between the cloak of poetry, her and me,
so we spoke the words in unison,
revealing everything and setting her verse free.

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