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KNIGHT DEVINE

Brisbane, Australia

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#4863
Dec 10, 2012
 

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The urge to grab her wrist

Pull her close and cling to her cloth

Hold her face

Press her lips against mine

I fear her eyes on me

Make me anxious

And that desire washes over my skin

To lash out

Shout into her mind

That I would be better

Than any man she should find

I could protect her just as well

Please her

Worship her

I would submit my very self and soul

To hear whispers of lust leave her lips

Her raven hair

Her piercing gaze

I cannot breath

Her spell takes over my bones

Her scent on my clothes

I cannot stand

The want that crawls through my veins

I cannot take

The way she looks at me

The point she puts me in

It will never be fair

I would love her

Better than any soldier

If only she would feel the same

If I cannot have her

Then why can any man?
KNIGHT DEVINE

Brisbane, Australia

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#4864
Dec 10, 2012
 

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Heart, oh heart,
I sit here writing your name
on pieces of paper,
folded, hidden, misplaced ...
found again.

There is the element of saying
and there is the element of making:
one needn’t choose.
I am singing the dream out from the ice,
asking it to carry me
like a horse or a river, down and away.

This day, here in paned-glass sun:
the young waitress shaking out her apron
and retying it flat across her stomach—
a bit of vanity—her hair swept off her neck,
crash of a milk bottle
on the granite counter, cream
spread in a mild pool toward the rim,
and the roots of habit and longing
briefly seized by the mind.

So noisy here! The sound echoes
out of years, brought to this
showing forth, unrehearsed.
It seems we wake
and find ourselves repeating,
embodying the ancient gestures
by which we recognize
ourselves completed.

Not one of us could be born
and invent life—it must show through us—
the arm flung in the air, the coffee poured out,
and down the street, someone hurrying by,
head down against the wind.

And a man and a woman
come to an old grief,
carved in them, carved
into them
—the old way of water wearing rock—
by law, and the hatred
between them is equal
to the hope neither will release.

Each wants to be whole,
to embody all of time, when nothing
in this world is whole, and
this is by law.

When my grand-father said kindly
to my grand-mother: you have changed,
he meant, without meaning to say,
how she had changed him. A man
holds his head down against the wind.
Yet the wind fills him
with the dust of temples,
the breath of the dead.

The dream of the light
inside the branches—
a gleam of wet, glimmer that is a bud,
the leaf within the bud.

The photographer comes inside
and closes the lens of his camera.
Then he is the lens. Then my eye
is the light. This
is the element of saying.
The young waitress flings a paper cup
behind her, into the trash can.
That is a saying. The cream swirled
into the coffee, the sugar
dissolving, disembodied,
and the body of the manager disappears,
swallowed into a doorway.

The element of making is slow,
uncertain as a temple,
a falling forward, stitching back,
like a stone wall, like the panes in an
arched window, like a repetition
chosen beyond necessity.

Yet somehow we have seen all this before—
the girl in the fur hat
speaking syrup into a phone;
the falseness of her charm
is an ancient imposter, familiar and
therefore true.
A door is opened and falls
closed. Suddenly at every table
someone looks down and is reading—
books, newspapers, calendars,
reading tea leaves, reading bones.

A woman in a periwinkle jacket:
I am reading her shoulders
as the day introspects.
In dream the passive construction
and the past perfect tense prevail:
she was being pushed on a swing.
The woman with many television credits
gazes out the window, heavy with years,
forgetting herself, forgetting sorrow,
the false husband, the crippled child,
the old plots forgetting,

and it is suddenly lovely, as free as
something read or dreamed; the young
waitress with sun on her
face—her unblemished face—looks up,
from the middle of eternity, her desire
immaculate in the moment.

When a word is beautiful
above all others—your name—
when a woman appears as a bird of prey
and we turn away,
hoping not to be recognized—oh heart!—

when the light on the branches
flares in a window with no sky,
this is old story reading us, these are springs
from words laid down before
and ahead of us, and in the moment
we are making an answer.
KNIGHT DEVINE

Brisbane, Australia

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#4865
Dec 10, 2012
 

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She slinks through the night

Looking for her next lover

Underlying desperation

Is what you'd uncover



She needs variety

A soul that she can claim

It's not about love

To her it's just a game



Scantily clad

She likes to show her wares

Full ivory breasts

With a round derriere



She's not picky about status

If there's a ring on your finger

She gets what she needs

She's never one to linger



She'll go with complete strangers

Willing to take the chance

Only one thing on her mind

To get into your pants



Come and take a number

She won't remember your name

It's just a means to an end

To her you're all the same



Promiscuous girl

She's trying to fill a void

From the broken heart he left her

The life that he destroyed
KNIGHT DEVINE

Brisbane, Australia

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#4866
Dec 10, 2012
 

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Poetry points out the beauty
many tend to live too fast to detect
or maybe spread ideas within
so we may later bring it up to reflect.

Depths are deeper than normal
colors bolder than the naked eye.
Emotions readily open to see
tears freely flowing in its cry.

I see poetry in any common spot
waving blades of grass, the leaves.
Sparkling prisms of light bouncing
rain water, ice dripping from the eaves.

Poetry is in the encounters I have
whether with people or nature's spread.
In the aisle of a super market, the park
or just reflections held in my head.

I see poetry in the love for my wife
button popping praise for each child.
It is apparent in the neighborhood
with its all encompassing style.

Poetry leaps from the air
as well the sun, stars and the moon.
holiday gatherings and parties
or that new birth coming soon.

I see poetry in most all I see
in all the senses I freely use
and I never forget how a smile
can send running, the blues.

Never have to think about it
poetry stays within my touch
giving me thrills abundantly
cause I love to write so much.
Level 6

Since: Jan 12

Location hidden

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#4867
Dec 10, 2012
 

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woo hoo do it to me again!
Hoosier Hillbilly

Milan, IN

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#4868
Dec 10, 2012
 

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KNIGHT DEVINE I liked that one, I kinda feel the same way.

“Crown Of Life”

Level 9

Since: Mar 12

Smile and Shine..

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#4869
Dec 10, 2012
 

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I want to find someone who never gets tired of kissing me everday.Hugs me when Im jealous.
Understanding.Keeps silent when Im mad.Squeezes my hand when Im not in a good mood.Plans and Imagines the future with me in it and when I do find that someone I will never let go of him..:O)
Hoosier Hillbilly

Milan, IN

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#4870
Dec 10, 2012
 

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@least your not asking for much.
ROTFLMAO
Hoosier Hillbilly

Milan, IN

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#4871
Dec 10, 2012
 

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PS: get a dog.
Level 6

Since: Jan 12

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#4872
Dec 10, 2012
 

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Sounds cruel but ... it's true... puppies are adorable.

“ROCK ON ROCKERS!!”

Level 8

Since: Mar 11

Rockin' USA ;)

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#4873
Dec 10, 2012
 
B-O-R-I-N-G....GIVE ..ME...Good Ole' ROCK 'n' ROLL..any day!!"

“Crown Of Life”

Level 9

Since: Mar 12

Smile and Shine..

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#4874
Dec 10, 2012
 

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thats right HH not asking it from you isnt that nice...but that was just a poem not intentions to anybody...okay..Dont want a puppy been there done that not going there again..Its good..:O)
KNIGHT DEVINE

Brisbane, Australia

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#4875
Dec 10, 2012
 

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Her little face is like a walnut shell
With wrinkling lines; her soft, white hair adorns
Her withered brows in quaint, straight curls, like horns;
And all about her clings an old, sweet smell.
Prim is her gown and quakerlike her shawl.
Well might her bonnets have been born on her.
Can you conceive a Fairy Godmother
The subject of a strong religious call?
In snow or shine, from bed to bed she runs,
All twinkling smiles and texts and pious tales,
Her mittened hands, that ever give or pray,
Bearing a sheaf of tracts, a bag of buns:
A wee old maid that sweeps the Bridegroom's way,
Strong in a cheerful trust that never fails.
KNIGHT DEVINE

Brisbane, Australia

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#4876
Dec 10, 2012
 

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You say you don’t know how to feel,
Or how to care,
But I’m here to tell you,
Even a pretty girl can feel.
Stop, listen, absorb, feel.
You have so much to offer and you hide it away,
But I have seen the door,
And I can hear the music behind it,
The sweetest sounds I’ve heard.

You don’t like filters,
Well I’m telling you to get rid of yours.
Drop down the wall,
Let someone in,
Take a chance.

Your thoughts dart here,
Dart there,
But I am here to tell you,
I will slow down April.
Stop, listen, absorb, feel,
For just one minute,
And you’ll find it is easier than you thought possible.

Share, experience, learn,
Life is all about learning through experiences,
How can you experience everything alone?
Who would you have to share memories,
Because happiness is only real when shared.

I like you,
And you like me,
And boy and girl like each other,
But where does it go?
What does it mean?
Who decides?
We do.
I like you and I am glad to know you,
Not just the typical yes I know who you are
and you’re very pretty
and I would like to kiss you now.
No, I am glad to know you, to know how you think, and why you think that.
You are special, and you know it,
It is not a bad thing to recognize that,
yes, You are a beautiful individual
and you have a lot to offer,
but until you let someone in fully,
no one will be able to appreciate
how truly special you really are.
So take a chance,
Be bold,
And remove the filter.
I have removed mine.
My door is open, and the music is cool
and inviting.
I want to stop, listen, absorb, feel,
share, experience, and learn.
With you, and from you.
And I will slow down baby,
If given the chance.

You have boys at your heels,
You manipulate them,
You have fun,
And you’re still alone.
You may like it,
But this is nothing sustainable.

It may be easy to be alone,
As you said,
When there’s constantly someone there
willing to coddle you
It’s not hard,
lacking caring, or feeling, or sharing.

I like this functional thing we have going,
You said that yourself.
Well it’s only functional if you care,
feel, or share.
I know you, get to know me.
I want to feel exposed and naked
every time I talk to you.
When I look at you,
I want to pools our eyes,
to be the infinity mirrors of our souls.

So stop,
listen,
absorb,
feel,
share,
experience,
learn,
know.
And let someone in,

Please let me in.
KNIGHT DEVINE

Brisbane, Australia

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#4877
Dec 10, 2012
 

Judged:

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And then the rain came down,

hard
fast
and
beautiful

broken down bodies
writhing in the hot dirt.

parcels of drunken flesh

mounting,
curling,
into endless spasms

fingers push me


down
to dance in evergreen puddles


all my layers

set into flame,

with the tip of the tongue.

A bite of the teeth.

A push of my hardness.

with a frothing desire,
it slips...


into place.
KNIGHT DEVINE

Brisbane, Australia

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#4880
Dec 10, 2012
 

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The intimacy of you
delving deep
swinging high
jewelled doves
pushing my bones
to a shifting forest

heated feather touch kisses
smashing footsteps
my blood is cursed
dripping honey on your chest

I thought I heard a phoenix cry
in the twilight toes of night
you are divintity my love
and I are your broken eternity

the light grows cold
casting hellish shadows
on my blistered insides

how has this come to pass
your sharp neglect
oh
but it brings a sorrowful blow
the wonders of you
this love so newborn
but ancient in its roots
a bowlful of heartache
only lucifer would serve

I lay in shrieking winds
red spirits whirling palms over me

time passing

days blowing

I pray for some merciful velvet
I am but a dowdy shroud
KNIGHT DEVINE

Brisbane, Australia

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#4881
Dec 10, 2012
 

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Lucid dream
from placid stream

waiting always
for you
to strike me

take down my number
and slide me into
a fretful atmosphere

my tongue
is plagued my sweet
with our silken history

drawn me down
and show me painful love
like it ought to be

go on take my honey bee

blue wake

I feel nothing
and
well......

nothing feels me

grey slate keeps my body upright

this lost lover eluding me

swalled in white fucking dreams
KNIGHT DEVINE

Brisbane, Australia

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#4882
Dec 10, 2012
 

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Lady Derringer wrote:
<quoted text>Variety is the spice of life ...
agree.....and

“Variety is the soul of pleasure.......For variety of mere nothings gives more pleasure than uniformity of something”
KNIGHT DEVINE

Brisbane, Australia

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#4884
Dec 10, 2012
 

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Lady Derringer wrote:
<quoted text>And then there is SOUL EATER:
http://www.youtube.com/show/souleater
NB:- The video you have requested has been rated “TV-14” and may contain content intended for mature audiences.
KNIGHT DEVINE

Brisbane, Australia

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#4885
Dec 10, 2012
 

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Realms of saftey
in such coy beauty

your limbs still reach me
in this solid cage

you reek havoc on my heavy points
fading curtain of despair

we float
weightless but joyless

I am your moth
that always longed for change

hiked up skirt
on a window sill

always staying
enjoying your pure power

you fold me down
then draw me back

bodies smashing into shards
dust is made

fear is lost
as you are to me

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