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Ed Bogard Jun 2018
She looks up at me with her heart in her eyes
Her entire body reverberating with her hunger
Her hand trembles as she touches my leg
Her lips part in a gasp as she touches the object of her need
Her eyes glazed with lust as she leans forward
Now her entire frame trembles with her ache
She starts to move in an unspoken request
She gets a fevered light in her eyes as I make her wait
She whimpers and looks back into my eyes
She nods at the unspoken question
She looks at me with her heart in her eyes
She submits
Poetry by MAN Jul 2013
SNAKE
cold blooded adapter smooth in its capture, venomous to those caught in its rapture
CATERPILLAR
ultimate evolver unique in every state, to cocoon and assimilate into a new creature at such a fast rate
OX
lifter of the heavy, for the weak there are plenty, paver of new roads that bring prosperity to many
RABBIT
soft to the touch we all wanna pet usually are to fast for anyone to get
PIG
plentiful is the swine for weak is their mind created for slaughter what a sad lifetime
IGUANA
all I can think is Mexican radio a snake with legs smoking **** in 80's videos
OSTRICH
a bird who cannot fly makes me wonder why such a big bird won't even try

~

DOMESTICATED
over time becoming content living in a situation not originally meant
OBEDIENT
submits to authority biding time as a follower till own goals become priority
GROWL*
slow rumble from the soul an intimidating stare with a glow, with a Grrr! everyone will know
M.A.N 7-14-13 trying something different with mind associations. The Dog is my Eastern Zodiac sign I was very intrigued when I read qualities  I will also be doing Scorpio next. I just added Scorpio and changed title these are my two astro signs I'm still going to do a stand alone Scorpio with a dark twist stay tuned. Funny side note I'm writing these associations and can do them all day while I'm in LA with family waiting to be seated at a Chinese restaurant Din Tai Fung in Arcadia CA ;)
Terry O'Leary Aug 2013
PROLOGUE

Umpteen billion years
Big Bang, supernova, gas
Brief eclipse of time

Gases swirling, fall
Sun and planets, water, goo
Brief eclipse of time

Another billion
life, amoeba, fishes swim
Brief eclipse of time

Movement, change and flux
slither, crawl, climb, walk and talk
Brief eclipse of time

Ra, Sol, Helios,
Mithra and the Mighty Eye
Brief eclipse of time

Life begins and ends
birth, joy, laugh, cry, death, and dust
Brief eclipse of time

Waves cleave seas, shores, skies
forever folding, pulsing
Brief eclipse of time


            
CHRONICLE

The Mighty Eye begins to slip and slowly sink,
(unfocused, stained, diffuse)
while frizzled waves imbibe her searing tears,
with salted languid lips.

The Mighty Eye, now weary, thin,
is gazing through the frozen cracks,
as sundry straying clouds,
bloated,
sidle feebly by
and wax their billowed tracks
upon the heated sky,
and cool the rush of rolling waves
beneath the blotted sky.

The waves
(impaled on time and space inside me),
gently tumbling aging pebbles
and lifeless shells across the shifting sands,
seem unaware
as they once again arise
to greet the Mighty Eye,
to close the Mighty Eye,
to ***** the Mighty Eye.

But then again,
perhaps the waves are well aware indeed,
yet simply unconcerned
and feel no need to care.

For, as the frazzled froth is rushing forward
madly towards the sandy shores beyond,
before retreating slowly,
then careening brashly forth ahead again,
eternally,
it matters little if the Mighty Eye will cast
her blazing glance from high above,
or else retire for the night,
kissed sweetly by the liquid lips
of distant faithless waves
in a brief eclipse of time.

The trees, they hang in time and space around me –
trees, which in time before had swayed,
so gently tugged by ocean breezes,
trees, which in time before were lightly lit
with emerald tinted leaves,
trees, which in time before had reached to space above
with twisted tangled fingers,
grasping fingers,
fingers drenched with golden tears
shed by the Mighty Eye.

The trees, they hang in space and time,
benumbed and frozen motionless around me
chilled with rooted premonitions of the void,
their branches clutching darkness  
and their leaves foreboding doom.

The muted winds begin to whisper tales
of many frightened things,
which, with mournful apprehension
have hunkered down behind the haze
and ceased their joyful play.

And all the while dank shadows gaily dance
a dismal dance,
for their time is soon to come.

The fitful shore lies suddenly still.

Unfeeling stones and hollow shells,
are paused a little,
stalled,
and dropped haphazardly,
midst their mindless random journey,
now abandoned by the sea,

for fickle waves have slipped away
to greet a falling prey.

And as the Mighty Eye droops lower,
laminated molten lips
are pursed and pucker higher,
******* in the sky.

Within a trice the Mighty Eye
submits and squints, distended red,
perhaps tormented by fantastic thoughts
of imminent demise,
or else of being lashed beneath a lid
of distant faithless waves.

And as her dying flash dissolves,
two lurid lips arise,
three ***** lips -
a thousand parted limpid lips
which asudden,
though with little haste,
consume the Mighty Eye.

                  
EPILOGUE**

The trees are now but lurking shades
amongst the murky shadows.

Relentless fog slips slowly by -
her floating tongues drip silence
as they slink like snakes in stealth nearby.

The lacerated faithless lips have once again returned
to kiss the vacant vapid shores
in a brief eclipse of time.
saranade May 2015
The pad of my thumb sits on your face
It fits in that place
where your brow and cheek bone meet.
Your mouth submits to the taste of my skin
It gets my attention.
Those thin lips harbor a chase to cure
The abstention you know I endure
Until I retire the entire set of rules
I've laid out, wether weeks or months,
In this case, hours, your goal will be completed.
Because defeated isn't in your vocabulary
I'd even consider it rarely.
You win.
Which is a win-win.
A win for you is a win for me
As one who in his journey bates at noon,
Though bent on speed; so here the Arch-Angel paused
Betwixt the world destroyed and world restored,
If Adam aught perhaps might interpose;
Then, with transition sweet, new speech resumes.
Thus thou hast seen one world begin, and end;
And Man, as from a second stock, proceed.
Much thou hast yet to see; but I perceive
Thy mortal sight to fail; objects divine
Must needs impair and weary human sense:
Henceforth what is to come I will relate;
Thou therefore give due audience, and attend.
This second source of Men, while yet but few,
And while the dread of judgement past remains
Fresh in their minds, fearing the Deity,
With some regard to what is just and right
Shall lead their lives, and multiply apace;
Labouring the soil, and reaping plenteous crop,
Corn, wine, and oil; and, from the herd or flock,
Oft sacrificing bullock, lamb, or kid,
With large wine-offerings poured, and sacred feast,
Shall spend their days in joy unblamed; and dwell
Long time in peace, by families and tribes,
Under paternal rule: till one shall rise
Of proud ambitious heart; who, not content
With fair equality, fraternal state,
Will arrogate dominion undeserved
Over his brethren, and quite dispossess
Concord and law of nature from the earth;
Hunting (and men not beasts shall be his game)
With war, and hostile snare, such as refuse
Subjection to his empire tyrannous:
A mighty hunter thence he shall be styled
Before the Lord; as in despite of Heaven,
Or from Heaven, claiming second sovranty;
And from rebellion shall derive his name,
Though of rebellion others he accuse.
He with a crew, whom like ambition joins
With him or under him to tyrannize,
Marching from Eden towards the west, shall find
The plain, wherein a black bituminous gurge
Boils out from under ground, the mouth of Hell:
Of brick, and of that stuff, they cast to build
A city and tower, whose top may reach to Heaven;
And get themselves a name; lest, far dispersed
In foreign lands, their memory be lost;
Regardless whether good or evil fame.
But God, who oft descends to visit men
Unseen, and through their habitations walks
To mark their doings, them beholding soon,
Comes down to see their city, ere the tower
Obstruct Heaven-towers, and in derision sets
Upon their tongues a various spirit, to rase
Quite out their native language; and, instead,
To sow a jangling noise of words unknown:
Forthwith a hideous gabble rises loud,
Among the builders; each to other calls
Not understood; till hoarse, and all in rage,
As mocked they storm: great laughter was in Heaven,
And looking down, to see the hubbub strange,
And hear the din:  Thus was the building left
Ridiculous, and the work Confusion named.
Whereto thus Adam, fatherly displeased.
O execrable son! so to aspire
Above his brethren; to himself assuming
Authority usurped, from God not given:
He gave us only over beast, fish, fowl,
Dominion absolute; that right we hold
By his donation; but man over men
He made not lord; such title to himself
Reserving, human left from human free.
But this usurper his encroachment proud
Stays not on Man; to God his tower intends
Siege and defiance:  Wretched man!what food
Will he convey up thither, to sustain
Himself and his rash army; where thin air
Above the clouds will pine his entrails gross,
And famish him of breath, if not of bread?
To whom thus Michael.  Justly thou abhorrest
That son, who on the quiet state of men
Such trouble brought, affecting to subdue
Rational liberty; yet know withal,
Since thy original lapse, true liberty
Is lost, which always with right reason dwells
Twinned, and from her hath no dividual being:
Reason in man obscured, or not obeyed,
Immediately inordinate desires,
And upstart passions, catch the government
From reason; and to servitude reduce
Man, till then free.  Therefore, since he permits
Within himself unworthy powers to reign
Over free reason, God, in judgement just,
Subjects him from without to violent lords;
Who oft as undeservedly enthrall
His outward freedom:  Tyranny must be;
Though to the tyrant thereby no excuse.
Yet sometimes nations will decline so low
From virtue, which is reason, that no wrong,
But justice, and some fatal curse annexed,
Deprives them of their outward liberty;
Their inward lost:  Witness the irreverent son
Of him who built the ark; who, for the shame
Done to his father, heard this heavy curse,
Servant of servants, on his vicious race.
Thus will this latter, as the former world,
Still tend from bad to worse; till God at last,
Wearied with their iniquities, withdraw
His presence from among them, and avert
His holy eyes; resolving from thenceforth
To leave them to their own polluted ways;
And one peculiar nation to select
From all the rest, of whom to be invoked,
A nation from one faithful man to spring:
Him on this side Euphrates yet residing,
Bred up in idol-worship:  O, that men
(Canst thou believe?) should be so stupid grown,
While yet the patriarch lived, who ’scaped the flood,
As to forsake the living God, and fall
To worship their own work in wood and stone
For Gods!  Yet him God the Most High vouchsafes
To call by vision, from his father’s house,
His kindred, and false Gods, into a land
Which he will show him; and from him will raise
A mighty nation; and upon him shower
His benediction so, that in his seed
All nations shall be blest: he straight obeys;
Not knowing to what land, yet firm believes:
I see him, but thou canst not, with what faith
He leaves his Gods, his friends, and native soil,
Ur of Chaldaea, passing now the ford
To Haran; after him a cumbrous train
Of herds and flocks, and numerous servitude;
Not wandering poor, but trusting all his wealth
With God, who called him, in a land unknown.
Canaan he now attains; I see his tents
Pitched about Sechem, and the neighbouring plain
Of Moreh; there by promise he receives
Gift to his progeny of all that land,
From Hameth northward to the Desart south;
(Things by their names I call, though yet unnamed;)
From Hermon east to the great western Sea;
Mount Hermon, yonder sea; each place behold
In prospect, as I point them; on the shore
Mount Carmel; here, the double-founted stream,
Jordan, true limit eastward; but his sons
Shall dwell to Senir, that long ridge of hills.
This ponder, that all nations of the earth
Shall in his seed be blessed:  By that seed
Is meant thy great Deliverer, who shall bruise
The Serpent’s head; whereof to thee anon
Plainlier shall be revealed.  This patriarch blest,
Whom faithful Abraham due time shall call,
A son, and of his son a grand-child, leaves;
Like him in faith, in wisdom, and renown:
The grandchild, with twelve sons increased, departs
From Canaan to a land hereafter called
Egypt, divided by the river Nile
See where it flows, disgorging at seven mouths
Into the sea. To sojourn in that land
He comes, invited by a younger son
In time of dearth, a son whose worthy deeds
Raise him to be the second in that realm
Of Pharaoh. There he dies, and leaves his race
Growing into a nation, and now grown
Suspected to a sequent king, who seeks
To stop their overgrowth, as inmate guests
Too numerous; whence of guests he makes them slaves
Inhospitably, and kills their infant males:
Till by two brethren (these two brethren call
Moses and Aaron) sent from God to claim
His people from enthralment, they return,
With glory and spoil, back to their promised land.
But first, the lawless tyrant, who denies
To know their God, or message to regard,
Must be compelled by signs and judgements dire;
To blood unshed the rivers must be turned;
Frogs, lice, and flies, must all his palace fill
With loathed intrusion, and fill all the land;
His cattle must of rot and murren die;
Botches and blains must all his flesh emboss,
And all his people; thunder mixed with hail,
Hail mixed with fire, must rend the Egyptians sky,
And wheel on the earth, devouring where it rolls;
What it devours not, herb, or fruit, or grain,
A darksome cloud of locusts swarming down
Must eat, and on the ground leave nothing green;
Darkness must overshadow all his bounds,
Palpable darkness, and blot out three days;
Last, with one midnight stroke, all the first-born
Of Egypt must lie dead.  Thus with ten wounds
The river-dragon tamed at length submits
To let his sojourners depart, and oft
Humbles his stubborn heart; but still, as ice
More hardened after thaw; till, in his rage
Pursuing whom he late dismissed, the sea
Swallows him with his host; but them lets pass,
As on dry land, between two crystal walls;
Awed by the rod of Moses so to stand
Divided, till his rescued gain their shore:
Such wondrous power God to his saint will lend,
Though present in his Angel; who shall go
Before them in a cloud, and pillar of fire;
By day a cloud, by night a pillar of fire;
To guide them in their journey, and remove
Behind them, while the obdurate king pursues:
All night he will pursue; but his approach
Darkness defends between till morning watch;
Then through the fiery pillar, and the cloud,
God looking forth will trouble all his host,
And craze their chariot-wheels: when by command
Moses once more his potent rod extends
Over the sea; the sea his rod obeys;
On their embattled ranks the waves return,
And overwhelm their war:  The race elect
Safe toward Canaan from the shore advance
Through the wild Desart, not the readiest way;
Lest, entering on the Canaanite alarmed,
War terrify them inexpert, and fear
Return them back to Egypt, choosing rather
Inglorious life with servitude; for life
To noble and ignoble is more sweet
Untrained in arms, where rashness leads not on.
This also shall they gain by their delay
In the wide wilderness; there they shall found
Their government, and their great senate choose
Through the twelve tribes, to rule by laws ordained:
God from the mount of Sinai, whose gray top
Shall tremble, he descending, will himself
In thunder, lightning, and loud trumpets’ sound,
Ordain them laws; part, such as appertain
To civil justice; part, religious rites
Of sacrifice; informing them, by types
And shadows, of that destined Seed to bruise
The Serpent, by what means he shall achieve
Mankind’s deliverance.  But the voice of God
To mortal ear is dreadful:  They beseech
That Moses might report to them his will,
And terrour cease; he grants what they besought,
Instructed that to God is no access
Without Mediator, whose high office now
Moses in figure bears; to introduce
One greater, of whose day he shall foretel,
And all the Prophets in their age the times
Of great Messiah shall sing.  Thus, laws and rites
Established, such delight hath God in Men
Obedient to his will, that he vouchsafes
Among them to set up his tabernacle;
The Holy One with mortal Men to dwell:
By his prescript a sanctuary is framed
Of cedar, overlaid with gold; therein
An ark, and in the ark his testimony,
The records of his covenant; over these
A mercy-seat of gold, between the wings
Of two bright Cherubim; before him burn
Seven lamps as in a zodiack representing
The heavenly fires; over the tent a cloud
Shall rest by day, a fiery gleam by night;
Save when they journey, and at length they come,
Conducted by his Angel, to the land
Promised to Abraham and his seed:—The rest
Were long to tell; how many battles fought
How many kings destroyed; and kingdoms won;
Or how the sun shall in mid Heaven stand still
A day entire, and night’s due course adjourn,
Man’s voice commanding, ‘Sun, in Gibeon stand,
‘And thou moon in the vale of Aialon,
’Till Israel overcome! so call the third
From Abraham, son of Isaac; and from him
His whole descent, who thus shall Canaan win.
Here Adam interposed.  O sent from Heaven,
Enlightener of my darkness, gracious things
Thou hast revealed; those chiefly, which concern
Just Abraham and his seed: now first I find
Mine eyes true-opening, and my heart much eased;
Erewhile perplexed with thoughts, what would become
Of me and all mankind:  But now I see
His day, in whom all nations shall be blest;
Favour unmerited by me, who sought
Forbidden knowledge by forbidden means.
This yet I apprehend not, why to those
Among whom God will deign to dwell on earth
So many and so various laws are given;
So many laws argue so many sins
Among them; how can God with such reside?
To whom thus Michael.  Doubt not but that sin
Will reign among them, as of thee begot;
And therefore was law given them, to evince
Their natural pravity, by stirring up
Sin against law to fight: that when they see
Law can discover sin, but not remove,
Save by those shadowy expiations weak,
The blood of bulls and goats, they may conclude
Some blood more precious must be paid for Man;
Just for unjust; that, in such righteousness
To them by faith imputed, they may find
Justification towards God, and peace
Of conscience; which the law by ceremonies
Cannot appease; nor Man the mortal part
Perform; and, not performing, cannot live.
So law appears imperfect; and but given
With purpose to resign them, in full time,
Up to a better covenant; disciplined
From shadowy types to truth; from flesh to spirit;
From imposition of strict laws to free
Acceptance of large grace; from servile fear
To filial; works of law to works of faith.
And therefore shall not Moses, though of God
Highly beloved, being but the minister
Of law, his people into Canaan lead;
But Joshua, whom the Gentiles Jesus call,
His name and office bearing, who shall quell
The adversary-Serpent, and bring back
Through the world’s wilderness long-wandered Man
Safe to eternal Paradise of rest.
Mean while they, in their earthly Canaan placed,
Long time shall dwell and prosper, but when sins
National interrupt their publick peace,
Provoking God to raise them enemies;
From whom as oft he saves them penitent
By Judges first, then under Kings; of whom
The second, both for piety renowned
And puissant deeds, a promise shall receive
Irrevocable, that his regal throne
For ever shall endure; the like shall sing
All Prophecy, that of the royal stock
Of David (so I name this king) shall rise
A Son, the Woman’s seed to thee foretold,
Foretold to Abraham, as in whom shall trust
All nations; and to kings foretold, of kings
The last; for of his reign shall be no end.
But first, a long succession must ensue;
And his next son, for wealth and wisdom famed,
The clouded ark of God, till then in tents
Wandering, shall in a glorious temple enshrine.
Such follow him, as shall be registered
Part good, part bad; of bad the longer scroll;
Whose foul idolatries, and other faults
Heaped to the popular sum, will so incense
God, as to leave them, and expose their land,
Their city, his temple, and his holy ark,
With all his sacred things, a scorn and prey
To that proud city, whose high walls thou sawest
Left in confusion; Babylon thence called.
There in captivity he lets them dwell
The space of seventy years; then brings them back,
Remembering mercy, and his covenant sworn
To David, stablished as the days of Heaven.
Returned from Babylon by leave of kings
Their lords, whom God disposed, the house of God
They first re-edify; and for a while
In mean estate live moderate; till, grown
In wealth and multitude, factious they grow;
But first among the priests dissention springs,
Men who attend the altar, and should most
Endeavour peace: their strife pollution brings
Upon the temple itself: at last they seise
The scepter, and regard not David’s sons;
Then lose it to a stranger, that the true
Anointed King Messiah might be born
Barred of his right; yet at his birth a star,
Unseen before in Heaven, proclaims him come;
And guides the eastern sages, who inquire
His place, to offer incense, myrrh, and gold:
His place of birth a solemn Angel tells
To simple shepherds, keeping watch by night;
They gladly thither haste, and by a quire
Of squadroned Angels hear his carol sung.
A ****** is his mother, but his sire
The power of the Most High:  He shall ascend
The throne hereditary, and bound his reign
With Earth’s wide bounds, his glory with the Heavens.
He ceased, discerning Adam with such joy
Surcharged, as had like grief been dewed in tears,
Without the vent of words; which these he breathed.
O prophet of glad tidings, finisher
Of utmost hope! now clear I understand
What oft my steadiest thoughts have searched in vain;
Why o
Lincoln Jacobs Aug 2016
I drown
Held against the chasm
Filled with burning desire
Filled by raging fire

Pure pain
Hurt amongst the smiles
The lies of pitied souls
Dark as blackened coals

I fight
Through tears of salt
Hidden beneath abused time
Unknown emoted crime

I sleep
Exhausted of life
Turned and locked by key
Cannot feel cannot see

I hide
Comforted by darkness
With warmth of heated embers
No-one now remembers

Now quiet
So quiet my heartbeat echoes
Constant like a lapping wave
Looking for the love i crave

It ends
Everything finds its way
Floating petal from a rose
Like all.. it submits to close
mark john junor May 2014
if she submits just so
if she contorts to the worlds twisted vision
her breathing becomes quick
and her hands silhouettes
mimicry of ritualistic love

if she submits just so
the world will see
and snow will fall warm as summers day
quick will be slow
hurt will be healed
and the difficult will be easy
as easy as his smile back when he loved her
and things will be the way they were
before

her thin fingers
on the window panes frost
etch panoramas fine line drawings of loves triumphs
a garden where hope blooms
where beauty and happiness are one in the same
in the smile he shared with her back before
before...

washed and trimmed to measurable perfections
she kneels in the strange halflight of the worlds eye
and waits for the settling dust to speak
for the haze on the window to illustrate
for the clocks silent mechanical action to cease
waits for the world to change her

her breathing quick and measured as she leans with perceptions
to any sound of approaching footfall
but the only sound that pierced the thick darkness
was that of the worlds slow decay
if she could only
but hes been gone for so long
that smile
his sweet smile while he loved her

if she contorts to the worlds twisted vision
if she submits just so
the world will see
shes a good girl
and snow will fall warm as summers day
it will be as it was before
before
he will come back
and snow will fall warm as summers day
Pink Hat May 2014
In the turbulence of a Storm
My heart rests upon a Rock
In a place where the grass is long
Swaying  passively to a breeze
In a place where the earth is warm
Lit eternally by a furnace
In a place where a  stoic Rock
Submits to its desires for me
In a place where the frozen rain
Melts away in an instant
Dissolving the hovering myths of pain
To free my lonely heart yet again

This is a place for love to grow
Forever, together and more
Robert Smith Oct 2016
Bound, wound, and ******* all tight
With porcelain features, I drowned in her sight
Dominant I control her, she submits to my needs
I punish and tease her with preferences of sinful greed
Bound, wound, and ******* all tight
She lashes and thrashes but I control this fight
Blindfolded and gagged, aroused from my touch
Candle drips between her hips; she loves this so much
Strapped to the bed with a fistful of her mane
She enjoys pain and pleasure; I love this **** game
Bound, wound, and ******* all tight
My fledgling fun toy I command her tonight
She moans with pleasures and screams when she’s bad
Electricity attached, her fears makes me glad
Vaginal to **** play, or no *** at all
A new ******* kit arrives; I’m bouncing off the wall
Bound, wound, and ******* all tight
Under the bed restrains, ****** clamps, and leather cuffs in my sight
She’s cuffed, restrained, clamped and all ready
She needs me it feeds me and keeps me rock steady
She gives me her all in suspended animation
Together we are driven by a powerful lustful twisted sensation
For Bound, wound, and ******* all tight
You’re my favorite present, my fix, and my all through the night
Prabhu Iyer Aug 2013
Wondrous, wondrous is the sight:
from the front, from behind, from the top, from beneath, all around,
fulminating planes, universes, formed, bubbling out forming,
events, from all times existing as one,
beings, of all kinds, everywhere,
gods, angels, daemons, beasts, life from many systems,
including men, of this small speckle of a world,
known, unknown, and the beholder included
unfold, in this being vast, that knows no end,
that prompts awe and gestures of remorse
for having called It the friend and the other and the like,
who can tell what it is, it is inside, outside and everywhere,
our limited vision itself is not enough to grasp it.
It must grant a boon to allow the mortal man to gain a glimpse.

Such is the sight, encountered assuring fearlessness,
amid the din and the clamour of the ferocious war about to begin.

Yet, a realm exists, eternal, where joy is a term unworthy,
where bliss is a term unworthy, where ecstasy flows
out of every pore of the very fiber of existence,
to prompt the poet to say, ah, suffering I can take, but
this my receptacle is too weak to take in your bliss:
where delight takes the form of a radiant blue and plays the flute
having heard which once, all other joy pales in experience known
here a hundred thousand coloured plumes flower out of darkness,
here the ardent souls,  sit numbed by the bliss of love,
not winking once, so not to interrupt the moment.

The portal to which is guarded by a simple faith.
Even a passing desire and a glimpse pours forth, of the river of love
dancing away to the flute, in the depth our being.

Oh, to be a mother, and glimpse universes
in the mouth of one's babe, calling it forth exasperated
to open up and throw out the eaten mud.
Or be the Creator, befuddled that
his proud creation is but one puddle among the millions
this magician conjures up, who smiles innocent as a five year old.
Or be the simpletons guarded in awe by the mountain held up
as an umbrella to the deluge ordered by the rain gods.
Oh, the bewitching smile, that rended the hearts of the maidens,
to which sworn enemies cast their bows and arrows
and fall down in obeisance.

That the lord of all existence, can be a prankster
delighting in butter and frolic, who knew, who knew?

He is the unseen charioteer:
steering the ignorant soul, seated in the heart; Aeons pass
and we know not, even as He carries us in his arms across.
Oh, we can work, and approach him by work.
Meditate! Yes, sunder the knots in the heart.
Sacrifice too, is acceptable as offering, and renunciation ascetic.
See Him in any form, or in no form at all,
offer Him anything, even a leaf, a blade of grass,
He submits but to the ardent soul, this lord of love,
this eternal teacher of the ways of union.

And yet, it all began on a rainy day, on a day
when evil reigned and the rivers were in spate,
in a prison, where righteousness was consigned.

Yes, Truth, the weapon to put the guards of delusion to sleep,
and He slips out, when the rain goes mellow in her hymn,
when the river parts to the babe guarded by the snake,
when the jungles sing to the ecstasy unfolding,
when the world is asleep, ignorant and lost,
assured in its uncertain knowledge
and rival claims and fearsome philosophies
and numberless rituals and lifeless creeds,
unknown to the wicked kings, here He arrives,
to the muffled joys of a pastoral village erupting in celebration.
Krishna is the most popular hero of Indic civilization, whose life and message wove together in a brilliant fusion, the ascetic message of the Buddha and the Upanishad with the flowering genius of the orthodox Vedic system. If Buddhism could be called the 'first wave' of Indic civilization, the message of Krishna is still permeating the world with its bold proposition of emancipation through inaction in action and renunciation in life...
Brian McDonagh May 2018
Me: “Father, I think I would like to pray my own way.”
Priest: “Ha okay (sarcasm), whatever you say, Brian.”
(Priest continues about in ignorance of commentary)
Priest (beginning Vespers): “O God, come to my assistance…”
Me: (beginning Vespers) "O ****, here we go again..."
(Grudgingly submits)
I have always wanted to be different in spirituality, but when I have to coordinate myself to meditate like everyone else, I feel "un-special" (if that makes sense...again, not trying to offend, thought).
ryn Oct 2018
What once was stoic
and only showed strength,
now slowly sinks and melts...
Like a castle of sand
on the shore,
fending off the teases
from the playful waves
of the rising tide - but failed.

What once was rock...
Now submits to forces
that meant to erode and break.
Pounding, battering and
eating into the outer carapace
I’ve prided for years.

What once was armour
I thought impervious
and would deflect,
now threatens to collapse into itself.
Like a weak submersible
made for the shallows
yet dove too deep,
anticipating the impending crush
at the end.
Indulgent muse! my grov’ling mind inspire,
And fill my ***** with celestial fire.
See from Jamaica’s fervid shore she moves,
Like the fair mother of the blooming loves,
When from above the Goddess with her hand
Fans the soft breeze, and lights upon the land;
Thus she on Neptune’s wat’ry realm reclin’d
Appear’d, and thus invites the ling’ring wind.
  “Arise, ye winds, America explore,
“Waft me, ye gales, from this malignant shore;
“The Northern milder climes I long to greet,
“There hope that health will my arrival meet.”
Soon as she spoke in my ideal view
The winds assented, and the vessel flew.
  Madam, your spouse bereft of wife and son,
In the grove’s dark recesses pours his moan;
Each branch, wide-spreading to the ambient sky,
Forgets its verdure, and submits to die.
  From thence I turn, and leave the sultry plain,
And swift pursue thy passage o’er the main:
The ship arrives before the fav’ring wind,
And makes the Philadelphian port assign’d,
Thence I attend you to Bostonia’s arms,
Where gen’rous friendship ev’ry ***** warms:
Thrice welcome here! may health revive again,
Bloom on thy cheek, and bound in ev’ry vein!
Then back return to gladden ev’ry heart,
And give your spouse his soul’s far dearer part,
Receiv’d again with what a sweet surprise,
The tear in transport starting from his eyes!
While his attendant son with blooming grace
Springs to his father’s ever dear embrace.
With shouts of joy Jamaica’s rocks resound,
With shouts of joy the country rings around.
Valora Brave Dec 2012
The silent style
The curls that pile

The smooth walk
The timid talk

Amber eyes, amber eyes
What do you seek?
What do you find?

Channel your energy through;
submit your soul, become new

Tight lips, separate and lift
releasing in a purposeful drift

What circles drive you?
This type of distance is new.

Incentive, preventive
stay away, come away

Wrists rest behind your head;
body submits parallel to the bed

Sunglasses still on your face-
shoes, jeans all in place

You welcome constant defeat.
Where do you go when you retreat?

You are submerged in your mind
waiting out, enduring time.

You are submerged
until amber and blue converge
If you were a corpse accepting cremation
               I would be the flame
                             that lavishly licked your flesh,
         the heat, heaped for your hair on a pyre
the last peril your boney body submits to,
making the air all around stink of you.

Forget the fact that you corrupt my mind,
             it’ll only work out if your thoughts stink of me.

                                       If for one second during
                        your self worshipping, wistful stares
          into a mirror that drips a musty condensation
                       that lingered from your skinny, ****
                         torso after your morning shower, you
                                stand there smile *******
                          yourself with puckered lips and
          un-dilated pupils, flirting with
                          camera phone pixels you think to yourself;

                                                     * Should I post me on myspace?
                               Should I send a text message pic to myself?
                 Should I forward it to that guy that I met
           to make him think that I’m burning for him?*

                             If for that second I could be but that spark,
                an after thought flare that gets you to want
                    more than what it is that you got,
                                          where would you go?

             With whom would you make yourself over?

I’m waiting for the morning your ashes
      wake next to me; smoldered and spread out over my

          mattress and under my breath, and
           your eye lashes charred with clunky mascara
                 crumble as you replay in your silly head
                          the late mass I celebrated last night
                                                   when I exhumed and inhaled
                                    that same condensation;
      
Little taste droplets of you then exhaled  
          from me to your golden tin flesh
     that burned you to ******.
      
                    Because of my tempered tongue you
               cravingly bathed with,
     because of your hair I feverishly wrapped
                round my fists as
         my head altered and smoothed out from whiskey  
    bounced waves of frivolous  

thrusts      pulls releases,  
           pushes      twitches              friction

                                                in perfect timed fashion
                                                between your radio
                
                  antenna       thin           legs  
      and your rib meat torso
you forced my lips unto.

                                                           That will be the night
                                   you will come.
                                                               Yeah, that’s right            

                 SEE                  YOU                    MMM-hmmm,

                                I will see you melt on that night.
                                         And it will be your cremation.
taken from my book: The Evolution of A Word Made Flesh: Pathos Ethos Logos Thoth
http://www.amazon.com/Evolution-Word-Made-Flesh-Pathos/dp/1452809682/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie;=UTF8&qid;=1285189713&sr;=1-1
David Barr Jan 2014
Satanic anthems are bold, as they carry their message across undefined boundaries where infinity spreads her wanton features across the generations of history.
Boston reminds me of my historical roots, where Anglican tragedy submits her fornications in submissive rebellion.
With this in mind, let us use our fallible wills to travel together, across astral vistas where timeless plantations of hallucinogenic acceptance join hands around the mistress of the dark and her tantalising secretions.
Can we please communicate into the depths of the dawn in our debaucheries?
Feel the rhythm of unspeakable energies, as the pulse ripples through your eternal lusts.
Ayad Gharbawi Dec 2009
I HAVE A RENDEZVOUZ WITH DEATH



Ayad Gharbawi

To the many needing comfort, needing advice, needing passions sincere, to whom do they turn to?

To whom can they turn to?

The days unmask the increasing emptiness between all of us, and the need for revolt is always there. The urge to be solitary as a reflection of one’s disgust with the hollowness of human beings, is always an attraction for some.
The urge to speak one’s mind to all people, to shatter the idiotic niceties and protocol that separates all of us and represses our genuine needs and desires and ardent wishes in life, is always an attraction for some.

The need to transcend the humdrum of our lives daily is there, and yet we feel that somehow little can be truthfully done. That is such a prevalent feeling – that as an individual I can do very little to change my life, so one submits to apathy wearying.

The society of individuals increasingly down cast and alone while at the same time people may increase their social contacts – but, there are no positive results to be gained therefrom, for the ‘human’ is crumbling as a sovereign entity into frightened fragments, self-doubt and confusion.

Ask yourselves, what is the net emotional result of all your socialising? For when the certain hour arrives and you witness that accusatory feeling of ‘What have I done?’ your horrifying reply will be that you have done nothing to fulfil your needs and desires and passions.

The hour does ask you: ‘What do you feel at the end of it all?’ and your emotions search vainly for meaning and fulfilment, for in essence there never existed any meaning and fulfilment in your lives in the first place.

Your life style, your socialising has merely succeeded to varying degrees and extents in covering up your real needs and desires.
Thus, in essence, you are merely ignoring, avoiding and repressing your true feelings; the ‘successful’ day is when you do not feel the urge to express your needs; in other words you have successfully been able to distract yourself from your real self.
However, ones innate needs and desires return to haunt us because they are our essence existentially.

Repression of one’s needs and desires and hopes results in disastrous consequences of the self. We are not being true to our selves. We are masks, we are afraid of ourselves because if we were to face ourselves, then that would entail changing our lifestyles and our frame of mind.

The humans around you are not ‘real’.

They are not what they are pretending to be.

The humans around you are living in sorrow hidden by niceties and good manners and protocol and a million other worthless distraction. The humans around you are losing their humanity, their creativity, their needs and passions while they go about the routines of their various lives predictable.

Man is dying in himself, willingly wistfully to accept his/her resignation from life; echoes of Seeger’s poem, ‘Rendezvous’ can hardly be ignored:


‘But I’ve a rendezvous with Death
At midnight in some flaming town
When spring trips north again this year
And I to my pledged word am true,
I shall not fail that rendezvous.’


           Ayad Gharbawi -
Under this silky whiteness,
Cloaking a hominid likeness.
This frosty awareness,
This thought-suspending numbness.

Dare I lift this veil?
Dare I solve this blanched myst’ry?
Dare I expel disbelief?
Dare I ***** anticipation’s hope?

The whispers of curiosity,
The desire to make visible,
The familiar face of serenity,
Render the boundary risible.

Under that shameful shroud,
(The face is familiar no more,
Serenity submits to Torment.)
Finality abounds.
David Barr Nov 2013
Familial connectedness once again balances upon the brink of severed reconciliation.
I regret those detachments of which I had no accurate knowledge, and I have come to realise that those precious smells of nocturnal celebration far surpass the Scottish occasion of Hogmanay.
The East coast of Scotland will never cast aside her conscious awareness of masonic peculiarity.
So, I proclaim that our significance and identity transcend steel constructs which span the treacherous marine pathways of The Forth.
Did you happen to see the most beautiful girl amidst the smoky atmosphere in Yoker?
Snowflakes will continue to fall in silence over Fife hills, as the wisdom of Jimmy's grey hair calmly submits to a kaleidoscopic inevitability.
Listen, my friend, because this is important: we will always be related to detachment.
Sit comfortably, with tears in your eyes, because our roots will surprise us in the Great Finale.
Luna Faun Aug 2015
You are beauty, you are vibrance, you are the reflection of the light behind my eyes inwardly pulsing to the song of life. We are the steady ebb and flow of a constant chaos we call illusion, because duality is just that. Our bodies a barrier, a lie, deception to false perspectives and skin nothing more than a cell dividing me from you. This is why we yearn for love.. completeness... This is why we want nothing more than to embrace, why we want nothing more than to sink into each other and melt as butter submits to the pancake. We yearn to recycle, to become what we once were not withheld from our divine unity. I see myself in you and to love you is to love myself because this hologram is incomplete without your fragment of love gracing mine.
swim
through the dim
      abyss of the ocean's blue water
      to become a daughter
                  of the violent and quiet sea.

dive
through cold knives
      as your body submits to the waves,
      you must let yourself cave
                  to the water's hypnotic sway.

trade,
for green jade
      scales to cover your ivory legs.
      no longer will your wade
                  in the shoreline's shallow waters.

dance
with the chance
      of happiness running through your mind
      and you will learn, in time,
                  in order to swim you must drown.
I wrote this for a creative writing project when I was 15 lol
Timothy Roesch Feb 2014
Of the thousand reasons there is no God…
yet god lives in the thousand and First;
humility

Of all the Homos, One persists
by feasting upon the Fruit of a Tree;
Humanity!

A human ***** full of Pride
will ignore that which sharks abide;
the LAW

And ‘God struck down upon the deck
while Atheism commands all Ahoo and knows
the flaw.

Man adorned with all Its accoutrements
of flaked flint and purified plutonium
submits
to the Universe Man thinks He creates
until the noose of Its laws ‘round His neck
persists

To all God’s creatures past present
and future there is one dubious Gift;
Sentience
Whose edge is but one of a pair
and threatens the user with that ‘other edge’;
Common sense

God in his omnipotence stands all alone
despite what demons, angels lambs and fishes
Plan

So He creates a Tree to tempt His dust to rise
and contemplate the distance between He and
Man

If man is truly God’s image writ tolerably small
then what is man without a notion of humility at all?

He is ‘god’ with the power of an infant in tantrum’s fit
with Entropy standing ready to swallow all of It.
Gonz and Roses Jan 2011
It's really hard to see the world when you cant even leave the house.
No im not staring at your ***'s just admiring the uhh fabric of that blouse.

Mickey mouse sure is a ***** since he started doing crack.
Put minnie out on the street.
Daisy's out there to ?
im not even gonna say what I seen her do with pluto
but i want my money back.

Crystal **** and coffee starbucks really has changed.
Really Tommy  stop slipping your sister the tongue.
Really dont look at it as lynched prisoner why not think of it as
well hung.

Im sorta demented and well just not right
everyone admits.
I hope this isnt to forward but hey can i see your ***'s
You can swear you were just drunk sweetheart but Gonzo
never forgets.

Hey thank God for night vision and my sugar's drunken mother.
Boy naked twister sure is awkward.
Watching three mules with sister Sara and my wife's
kinda well sensitive brother.

Im one of a kind  thank the lord.
A pervert of  the ages.
Gotta thank my mom and dad  and jack dainels
such magic was created that night in back of
the sizzler  in that old ford.

Im a old G and not the spot.
Drinking till my liver kicks out.
Heaven isnt my style besides everyone knows
its in hell my wicked mind shall forever rot.

He  should be banned every pen named
complaining time of the month  *****  submits.
If ya hate me your wasting your time sugar britches.
Keep on talkin  cause kidies Gonzo never forgets
***** ,*******,Down right weird ***** dam you Bob seager
nobody does it better.

much like a **** im gone with the wind till next time
Gonz and Roses has left the gymnasium.
Dark n Beautiful Jul 2018
While, I pondered my age in calculator.
It seem likes I have block out my actual age after I reach 40
I have forgotten that I was over fifty,
My brother asked me “how old I was in calculator
I have never given it any thoughts
until that moment about my birthday
I pondered for a moment,
and said I think I am 55

He boldly said, that a lie, you are older than I am..
I have never given it any thoughts
until that moment about my birthdays
Unless it was too filled out my physical forms
or my Income Tax Returns submits

I so often hear them say, age is just a number;
However, my favorite number is 1;
It’s the beginning of everything
Jason Schnepper Feb 2015
Close your eyes
try to visualize
in your mind
you're alone
as your body craves
an appetite
to wet your thirst for love
Now try
to imagine
you are caught
in this moment of passion
as your heart beat pulsates
your body
crys out to be touched..
Just say
my name baby
let me enter
into your dreams
to meet you
in your deepest
most intimate desire
My lips
pressing your soft skin
as I gently kiss
every inch of your body
it burns with fire
your yerning
is begging and pleading
to feel me
deep within ahhh....
you and me
are in this dream together
you starve
for pleasure
Baby
what is in your mind
brings your foreseeing
endeavor
your thoughts unleash
this vivid picture
open your eyes
baby open your eyes
An image
appears
as the midnight moon
shines
through the curtain lace
feel me
touching your face  ...awee yea
my fingers
running
through your hair
as I pull your head back
and place you against the wall
I kiss your lips
your body
submits
your heart
succumbs so engulfed
in your pleasure
my pleasure is your drug
love is but a symptom
that I crave
but for this moment
I crave you
Baby
so give me a taste of it
I gently bite
and **** on your neck
as slide
my tounge
down to your breast
I hear you
softly whisper
(ahh.. yeah baby don't quit )
your cries
scream out
as your nails
dig deep into me
you are caught
in this moment of passion
Baby
open your eyes
Let's make it happen
**** ****** Sensual
There is no peace at all for the wicked.

Stinging, ruthless words that pierce through mind and heart
Swiftly, precisely, from lips of clay depart
Arrowheads dipped in green poison find their way
To an unwary target, without delay.

There is no peace at all for the wicked.

The tongue is a sinister, crushing weapon
Who dares resurrect one fatally bludgeoned?
“He deserves my verdict!” Rage seethes in defense.
“He smashed my fortress with the least reverence.”

He is without excuse.

Yet the comely victim-prince says, “Follow me…”
He with the sad, compelling eyes
And nail-scarred hands offered gently, steadily
To a soul vanquished by frantic, chaotic “I”

He whose dazzling raiments from the throne hang
unused
Willfully submits to slight, beating, abuse
As leather sandals cushion dusty, wounded feet
He weeps; Fallen creatures smite head and side–they bleed.

Still the comely victim-prince says, “Follow me…”
Now, therefore, beyond excuse,

Man is guilty.
Vaughn Fritts Jun 2016
A far off rumble, like a premonition,
Disturbs the quiet urban biosphere.
Soon, flashing, scattered thunderstorms appear,
Depositing an icy ammunition.
A domed volcano wakes from long remission,
Explodes, contaminates the atmosphere.
The sun retreats behind a ****** smear
And all the world submits to dark perdition.

For weeks the crumpled vegetation limps
Along and feeds on fallen carcasses.
The battered monuments to progress fall

And Wall Street übermensch, now useless gimps,
Assemble near their ruined businesses
And ponder why their profits tend to stall.
Here on the pale beach, in the darkness;
With the full moon just to rise;
They sit alone, and look over the sea,
Or into each other's eyes. . .
She pokes her parasol into the sleepy sand,
Or sifts the lazy whiteness through her hand.
'A lovely night,' he says, 'the moon,
Comes up for you and me.
Just like a blind old spotlight there,
Fizzing across the sea!'
She pays no heed, nor even turns her head:
He slides his arm around her waist instead.
'Why don't we do a sketch together--
Those songs you sing are swell.
Where did you get them, anyway?
They suit you awfully well.'
She will not turn to him--will not resist.
Impassive, she submits to being kissed.
'My husband wrote all four of them.
You know,--my husband drowned.
He was always sickly, soon depressed. . .'
But still she hears the sound
Of a stateroom door shut hard, and footsteps going
Swiftly and steadily, and the dark sea flowing.
She hears the dark sea flowing, and sees his eyes
Hollow with disenchantment, sick surprise,--
And hate of her whom he had loved too well. . .
She lowers her eyes, demurely prods a shell.
'Yes. We might do an act together.
That would be very nice.'
He kisses her passionately, and thinks
She's carnal, but cold as ice.
Daniel Peters Oct 2013
******!
I can't get this together.
Everything is falling apart.
Life is losing its meaning and I can't fix it.
******!
Time is truly against me and I can't change it.
I'm losing it. I'm losing it.
........ I can't get it.
I lost. I'm utterly defeated.
I'm done. I'm through. This world is just going to spit me up.
I already know it.
I'm alone on this.
I might as well leave everyone.

Whoa there sparky.
Time to calm yourself.
Firstly, breathe.
You can do this.
You have everything and I mean EVERYTHING you need.
All the resources and equipment are sitting in front of you.
Your life, is just at a fork in the road.
Like Robert Frost, "Take the road less traveled by. It'll make all the difference."
Secondly, grab a Coke from the fridge, eat an apple, watch a movie.
You've been through worse remember?
The world is trying to break you.
It's done it before, but never again.
You made a promise to yourself remember?
You were going to seize all opportunities and stop half-assing everything.
THIS IS ONE OF THOSE OPPORTUNITIES!
Do not back down! Not on this.
Grab the world by its ear and yank until it submits.
You! Got! This!
Thirdly and most importantly,
Be patient.
All of these things that you do have a way of working out.
You've noticed it. I know you have.
Be patient with yourself.
You are your own worst enemy.
And you know who's stronger.
It's time to do this.
Get up, breathe, get creative.
Time is nothing now.
It will come to your side when you're winning.
Hey bro........ it's time.
wes parham Oct 2014
His body floats on the surface,
Limbs spread wide and bound to the water,
An "X" marks his place on the planet.
Ankles and wrists between water and air,
He submits to a force of nature,
An "X", half submerged in the waves.
It says, "You are here",
but the ocean has more "there".
The water is a woman.
The sea is terrifying,
But he won't ever fear her.
A force of nature does nothing for spite,
Nothing for greed,
Nothing for personal gain.
His death would be clean.  
Honest.
Absorbed, even, thoroughly, back to the source,
The waters from which we all came.
Whenever I have the chance to swim in the ocean, I am compelled, beyond my will, to swim out past the choppy stuff and float, limp and contemplative, upon the rise and fall of Earth's seawater.  I clear my thoughts and drift.  Invariably, though, thoughts arrive.  Then this kind of **** happens.  I wrote the start of this back when first exploring things that appear in "force of Nature", that submission to natural forces, free of judgment.
( read here by the author:  )
https://soundcloud.com/warmphase/the-water-was-a-woman
everything begins to fade
ice melts in the Sun
the delicate heart will seek the shade
when tears of lost love run
they drip into the stream of sorrow
that carry them away
lost at sea come tomorrow
when the moon submits to day
Renae Jan 2014
Parting, bittersweet memories of lonesome days; different paths going opposite ways, we drop interlaced fingers to our sides, looking over our shoulders, you let go with time. I hope she makes your world beautiful as you've desired & submits to your every whim as she loves your fire. My wish: she is your comfort, your hope and your world, as she fills the empty void left by this girl.
the birds didn't tell me.

pushing back your covers, wiping away sleep;
seeing me, or the absence of me--
a virus inhabiting a body, sharing a bed,
a house, a life, a marriage, but
refusing to share that which makes a woman
truly and utterly a woman.

not with you.
because I gave you my posture, the bounce in my stride,
the grin so wide it hurt every time I smiled.
I put on a coat of pounds that warmed the feeble bones:
shattered confidence. broken girl.

would you see me if I listened better?
if I shut my mouth and closed my eyes?
if I let pain push deep within and make the blood
stop the bleeding?

what manual tells a woman how to love
someone she always had, but never really did?
for that young, naive take on romance,
on starry eyed place settings at dinner parties
seen in movies and in upper middle class society--
were those not the conventions for us?

when I said goodbye to my family home,
when the man who gave me my wit, my sharp tongue,
my fast feet, when he closed the door, and I left,
sobbing, pleading to go back in,
where safety cocooned my childhood,
tucked the memories in cardboard boxes,
stacked precariously high in the room that raised me,
trading tears for dance displays in a smudged mirror,
dust settling still.

a new man, a relevant man, he took me away
and educated me on good: "be good."
a good wife is
one who obeys, submits, cleans, cooks, opens, closes,
hungrily, dutifully, like a fish with flakes of food
as invisible companions.

no book taught me to fear self-destruction
or to sense the tide that crashes into fledgling happiness,
not two days old--to rip ripe peaches to a meaty pulp,
letting the juice spread at my shoelaces.

dear __ , I loved you entirely too true.
I lost my heart in strands of your hair, pieces of dead skin
engulfing my pillow case and our old sheets tangled
around sweaty legs, feet, arms scratched raw.

I didn't see that when the papers were inked
you put the parts of my heart once yours
next to your name--signed it away
to some better life,
one with a good wife, a good life,
a child, yard, and a three car garage.

I only got to see briefly what was not
meant to be mine.

I took off my sundress,
dipped my toes in the water,
and submerged my body,
embracing yours steadily,

remembering I am already good,

in the then and in the now.
Denel Kessler Jul 2017
It is the June of no summer
misty margins shift
gray to white-blind
the view is winter
the aftertaste bitter
in a perfumed sea
this shrine
both lovely
and disconnected
serenely denies
the fog’s lies

all is quiet
the Western front
sullenly submits
to relentless
willful weather
I listen only
to the birds
conjure storms
of wisdom
await the lightening
of oppressive skies
Styles Jan 2017
There is that helpless moment,
Right before your body submits,
to the pressures of pleasure,
that you ignore reason,
And obey the nature of;
                                         Satisfaction.
A Volunteer
A volunteer does believe in the patriotic spirit but serves
Carrying gun powder in his body excels to be so great
Wants to surmount all hurdles and hardships on nerves
Under adverse conditions is ready to portray, ameliorate
A volunteer with all his sincerity wants to climb Siachin
Without taking but his health and condition in to account
To remain away from his duty he considers crime, a sin
His real duty is not to stop in the way but just to surmount
Duty is hallmark of excellence this is what he learnt, knows
God is with him in his wonderful and valiant struggle, pursuit
On every step he seeks help from God and submits, bows
Allah looks after him bears his courageous efforts with fruit
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2017 Golden Glow
Arik Fletcher Feb 2010
whispered thoughts in jaded minds,
hidden acts through shaded blinds,
secret touches cloaked in dreams,
world outside forgot it seems,

muffled cries kept under wraps,
metal chains on leather straps,
gagged and bound a writhing wreck,
hands entwined on pulsing neck,

fingers claw through satin hair,
teeth bite deep on skin so fair,
blood and sweat combine in flow,
motion steady; hard yet slow,

beaded sweat on oiled thighs,
skin on skin as passions rise,
power play as hearts beat fast,
primal lust released at last,

passion flows to dizzying height,
slave submits to pleasured might,
another ****** of brutal power,
forces slave again to cower,

quivering with lust and fear,
pleasure bringing ****** near,
hearts together, thighs entwined,
eternally their souls combined.
Nekatu Poetry © Arik Fletcher

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