When you discover the world around you
You also discover all within it

      Selfishness, Greed, Hatred, Infidelity, Abuse, Sickness, Waste,  Homelessness, and War

We bare witness to all these things
But selfishly ignore them,
In route to prospect of all these evil forces that misguides us

For better or worse
It scopes our daily lives with inconvient truth's
The mental or physical rightousness
That lies in the truth of disparage  
History of our actions will go noted
In the days and years that come about as such

You can not tell life what to do
You must surrender it all into the hands of God  
That he protects you from the shame, one must feel deep inside
Waivers us from all our faults and sin alike

Trust in the inner voice that speaks to you and believe
For God's truth is yours if you want it
Set your intentions to heal thyself and other's
Peace be still in you, with love for your sister and your brother

Or let your misguided judgement, and false preservations follow you into your own judgement to...Hell!


  
(upwc)  by: Zenobia Lee/LadyZ710        12/13/09

I am contradiction, confliction,
I am human.
Misconception
I had me but i lost me
stared at my reflection
inflection
in my voice
misguides your misdirection
mistakes
made by choice
a past without correction
this is my self infliction,
I am contradiction, confliction
i never learn my lesson.

she could never imitate a cat or a dog, woman simply scolded man enough that man can relate to the two former state, and state that the third party misguides a share of concern for the two silences in terms of what man says: i think, which to the woman translates as: i scheme.*

being with a woman would only
make me weak,
i'm sure there are enough
pheasants to strut the colar purple
colours translated via genetics
into wings from the depths of
the pacific... as i am sure
enough serfs and aristocrats
simply love to ****... in order
to then look at aquariums filled
with ants; come my puppets come!
my fingers are eagerly awaiting
strain for the puppetry of being strained;
the king killed his queen in a raging fit
of jealosy... he's my caeserean digit now -
lo! behold the gravity of a chopped off
head of a gladiator like the anaesthetic of
the apple in salival drooling off the tree to the earth
in a quasi-rubber spandex strap: ah, almost, almost,
ah, almost, almost... drop!

The paint on the walls have started to melt
dragging all the the colors I painted, down.
Drooping like my body in this heat.
The weatherman informs me of no change anytime soon.
As the summer creeps up from behind
and kisses my winter body.
Leaving me in a shock of goosebumps.
This feels so un natural
in the heat you made me feel.

My heart jumped at the sound of your voice
and flew at the hope of your sight.
Now it falls like an anchor entering the sea
hitting harder than the sand ever felt.
Everything jumped down
hoping to catch it.

We danced to many serenades
in the colorful ballroom of day dreams.
The queen of the night, you are.

Now the old wallpaper screeches
with high pitched misguides.
I had no intention of them revealing themselves so soon.

Based on a thought
will be the death of me.

Take my hand and come with me.
My sun could light your storm
and your storm would cool my sun.

in the rain we shall dance
in the moon we shall stay
love is what we both shall give
expecting nothing more, nothing less
as future will guide us through its way
our love will grow even more deeper with each passing day
together we shall grow old
as tightly hand we will hold
watch how our children play
nothing will be left for us to hide
no mischief, no misguides
like a shadow we both will follow
feelings so deep, so pure, so wallow
like nobody ever did we shall share
our affection, our bond, grief, pain and how much we care
each other shoulder is where we shall lie
"forever" said he
"forever" said I

Your thighs are chubby
& your fingers are stubby
You sprained your neck
in a recent car wreck
You suffer angina
down to your ******
On your breast sits
2 cherry-red *******

It isn't the keys or the bottlecaps
adorned with some image of a deity,  that makes me stumble.

Just this month.
Enough.

I've told you all there is to tell
back in place, the lovers helm,
a sickly visage of diner's guilt.

Just this once.
A front.

It isn't carrying things, or the weight I drag about
it's a wonder wheel of intent and purpose doubt.

you've told all there is to hide
back a step, the liar's guise,
an enfeebled glance that misguides

A wet dog's fetchingly damp like Charles Sebastian Thomas Cabot
chasing after one oily, grimy, filthy, cruddy, covered-in-mud rabbit
that's comical like “Little Christ” Costello and Billy “Bud” Abbott
after dealing with William Blythe Clinton Rockefeller's stud habit

A wet dog's fetchingly damp like Charles Sebastian Thomas Cabot, chasing after 1 greasy, grimy, filthy, cruddy, covered-in-mud rabbit
that is comical like “Little Christ” Costello and Billy “Bud” Abbott
after thrillin' to big William Blythe Clinton Rockefeller's stud habit

Let us eat fish noodles together in the forest with Hillary F. Clinton
on our backs like fools, while she inhumanely plumbs her trap with
plumbing tools. Let Zion Jews pray to absolve Adam's original Old
Testament Bible sin after lubing Bill's *****-snake & jamming it in.

I can't take that burden
Why do you put it to me?
I can't sustain that wound
Why do you give it to me?

A dream that's not true,
a dream that rises fear
Why does that nightmare
breaks my sleep out?
The sky that's full of darkness
and it doesn't give me shine;
Why should I look at that sky?

The game that misguides me forever
and all my goodness are lost there
I don't wanna be addicted to that game!
Who don't want my happiness,
even in danger, who don't care about me
Let them be my loved ones always.

I ask nothing to you, just wipe out my sins
with your infinite mercy.
Take my thirst away
and guide me to the right path
My Lord, keep me tied to your bond, please!

Devastated,
Distressed,
Is what I am?

His coversations,
And lies,
Well I don't mean to pry.

Hesitation,
And calmness,
It's given me a reason to live.

Diversions,
And misguides,
It has led me in regret.

Gimme ol' God now a breath of fresh air that's as fresh as breath-air
for my peas fly on a trapeze whilst my black lungs breathe as a pair.

Look where her 6th finger is, 'tween her thumb & index finger. Her 6th becomes her 2nd. The hair is downy-soft to begin with so there shouldn't be coarse stubble. Right? There'll be no chafing, no rope-burn. Correct? Please assure me. I'm seasonally confused & contused like folks afflicted with the mythical, seasonal affective disorder.

I hate her.
She is the bane of my existence.
She is everything wrong with the world.
She is the worst thing to grace the face of the earth.

One may think they are free from her grasp but she wraps her bony fingers around your neck as you beg for air.
You walk aimlessly in a labyrinth and she is a dead end at every exit.

She is what makes me tick, what makes me scowl, what makes me hate the world.
She reeks of hatred and smugness, she thinks she knows better but she is truly misguided.
She misguides me.
I am stuck in her labyrinth.
She tells me to go right but regardless of the path I take, I end up in the palm of her hand.

Her whispers haunt me.
Her laughs torment me.
Her thoughts become mine.

The purest of intentions turn to vile green sludge.
The kindest of hearts become the most doubting.
The loveliest of engagements shatter to pieces before her.

Jealousy.
I hate her.

PART MAN & PART GYNECOLOGIST: I want to create 1 really
big gynecologist by sewing together 3 small ones. The hybrid freak
shall be gynecologically-licensed & able to probe the disease-prone
vulvae of westernized women like any normal gynecologist would.
I shall build a monster who is 88% Sam's Club greeter & 12% inert
vapor. This filthy hybrid demon must be allopathically-approved to
stoically ablate hyperplastic uterine polyps like any corporate slave.

Let's gnaw on Waffle House buns until your trans-pan gaskets blow
because it's the embers left by coal that give off the burnt-coal glow
that makes for fires kindled from sources fired from coke far below.

I am opposed to a nose ring for good reason, as I think that the only
thing that belongs in my big nose is my favorite nose-picking finger
on heavy-pad days when it feels like I'm suckin' bricks with a straw
or cutting down a huge oak tree with a ****-nugget instead of a saw
that's been sharpened by marshmallows honed against a kitty's paw
on a Sunday when nothing legal is tried under common, statute law.