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He felt
great pleasure
watching her
his desires bloom
staring at her two lips
the rarest of all flowers
pedals spread
breathing life into his desires
stiffening a hard stem
as their bodies take root
folding together like a hem
pumping seed into her cavity
baring the juices of a fruit
into a fountain
that will never end

John Fernandez 

With the roar of a Lion
he called the thunderstorm,
an inner demon - tormenting him, by name
at last
to its' knees,  then ass.
Forever and ever a signature of his this will be
yet no one hears - its a,
"just... keep your eyes on the grass"

recognize lol

Funnier before I edited it. It's true whether I would have edited or not. 1st version - super orgnl. Heart haha
3rd edit, basically 1st
 1h naǧí

Never did I belong in this patch
the hatch of lies and misconception
where ice covers all there ever was
where maps are painted, never was
the touch of grenades and bombs
as tombs and gravestones stomps

Never did I belong in this patch
the coded identity, the spirit implosion
where ice covers all there ever was
where the hyperbola sits ever alive
on the mouth of the North Pole
as distance lands remains unreachable

Never did I belong on this patch
the production zone of slave machines
where we labour and bore workers
where institutions are unfunctional
feeding loneliness to the masses slowly
as the truth remains covered inside ice sheets

what remains is magnificent
liberation is simplicity
infinitely refracted
and luminous
survival is imminent
dominion of the elements
mastering our domain
and knowing our own identity
as often as the rain falls to earth
we must frequently reaffirm our self-worth
celebrate our existence
in silence and in kisses
symbols abound
that ground our existence
allow us to move upon the ethereal waters
feel me here
in love’s embrace
satiated as space
is holding us together

You sit alone and stare at the wall
And darkness is all that you will find
Messing around with narcotics
Is sadly destroying your mind
Just get yourself some help
And take your life back
Remove yourself from the negative
Move towards the right track

Emma S 

I got there crying.
You took me in your arms asking

Honey what's wrong
What's wrong
I'm here talk to me
Sweetheart what's going on

My tears were suffocating me
I couldn't speak the words

You gave me a kiss on the forehead
Honey what's wrong
Tell me what's going on
Hugging me tightly

My body wasn't still
I was shaking

You let me cry still holding me
How can I help
Is there anything I can do
What's wrong

I love you
But I want to breakup

You let go of me
You just stare at me
No no no no no
You start crying

That's how I ended it
How I killed what used to be us

Lewis Carroll 

As one who strives a hill to climb,
Who never climbed before:
Who finds it, in a little time,
Grow every moment less sublime,
And votes the thing a bore:

Yet, having once begun to try,
Dares not desert his quest,
But, climbing, ever keeps his eye
On one small hut against the sky
Wherein he hopes to rest:

Who climbs till nerve and force are spent,
With many a puff and pant:
Who still, as rises the ascent,
In language grows more violent,
Although in breath more scant:

Who, climbing, gains at length the place
That crowns the upward track.
And, entering with unsteady pace,
Receives a buffet in the face
That lands him on his back:

And feels himself, like one in sleep,
Glide swiftly down again,
A helpless weight, from steep to steep,
Till, with a headlong giddy sweep,
He drops upon the plain -

So I, that had resolved to bring
Conviction to a ghost,
And found it quite a different thing
From any human arguing,
Yet dared not quit my post

But, keeping still the end in view
To which I hoped to come,
I strove to prove the matter true
By putting everything I knew
Into an axiom:

Commencing every single phrase
With 'therefore' or 'because,'
I blindly reeled, a hundred ways,
About the syllogistic maze,
Unconscious where I was.

Quoth he "That's regular clap-trap:
Don't bluster any more.
Now DO be cool and take a nap!
Such a ridiculous old chap
Was never seen before!

"You're like a man I used to meet,
Who got one day so furious
In arguing, the simple heat
Scorched both his slippers off his feet!"

"Well, it IS curious, I agree,
And sounds perhaps like fibs:
But still it's true as true can be -
As sure as your name's Tibbs," said he.
I said "My name's NOT Tibbs."

"NOT Tibbs!" he cried - his tone became
A shade or two less hearty -
"Why, no," said I. "My proper name
Is Tibbets - " "Tibbets?" "Aye, the same."

With that he struck the board a blow
That shivered half the glasses.
"Why couldn't you have told me so
Three quarters of an hour ago,
You prince of all the asses?

"To walk four miles through mud and rain,
To spend the night in smoking,
And then to find that it's in vain -
And I've to do it all again -
It's really TOO provoking!

"Don't talk!" he cried, as I began
To mutter some excuse.
"Who can have patience with a man
That's got no more discretion than
An idiotic goose?

"To keep me waiting here, instead
Of telling me at once
That this was not the house!" he said.
"There, that'll do - be off to bed!
Don't gape like that, you dunce!"

"It's very fine to throw the blame
On ME in such a fashion!
Why didn't you enquire my name
The very minute that you came?"
I answered in a passion.

"Of course it worries you a bit
To come so far on foot -
But how was I to blame for it?"
"Well, well!" said he. "I must admit
That isn't badly put.

"And certainly you've given me
The best of wine and victual -
Excuse my violence," said he,
"But accidents like this, you see,
They put one out a little.

"'Twas MY fault after all, I find -
Shake hands, old Turnip-top!"
The name was hardly to my mind,
But, as no doubt he meant it kind,
I let the matter drop.

"Good-night, old Turnip-top, good-night!
When I am gone, perhaps
They'll send you some inferior Sprite,
Who'll keep you in a constant fright
And spoil your soundest naps.

"Tell him you'll stand no sort of trick;
Then, if he leers and chuckles,
You just be handy with a stick
(Mind that it's pretty hard and thick)
And rap him on the knuckles!

"Then carelessly remark 'Old coon!
Perhaps you're not aware
That, if you don't behave, you'll soon
Be chuckling to another tune -
And so you'd best take care!'

"That's the right way to cure a Sprite
Of such like goings-on -
But gracious me! It's getting light!
Good-night, old Turnip-top, good-night!"
A nod, and he was gone.

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