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She models
With nothing but her earrings on.
Gold tendrils
Dancing across her shoulders
Lost in a sea of black curls.
Her beauty
Is that of an angel.
A halo
Of sheer radiance
Glistening around her wings.
Her body
Is that of a woman.
Lost
In unmarked territory along open winding passageways that
God
Didn't even create a roadmap for.
She can fly,
He said.
The only eyes to witness were her's and God's
And the eyes gazing back at her through the mirror
Watching her model
With nothing but her earrings on.
Gold tendrils
Dancing across her shoulders
Lost in a sea of black curls.
Sometimes we pretend to be dead
So that we can remain alive.
Thump Thump
Said the beat of my heart.
Perfectly synchronized with the
Bump Bump
Of her heart.
Two sets of lips inching up either side of his thighs,
Spread wide apart.
The melody of his respiration lost in the rhythm of his inspiration
Rhythmic
Swayed two tongues
Twenty fingers
Two bra straps undone.
Two heads of curls
Curled around one head
One hell of a baptism
Christened upon the holy sheets of the bed.
Two trails of saliva...
Describe to me the sensation of tongue on skin;
Offers of salvation for the sins that lie within.
Her eyes are alluring.
Bright eyes .
Chariot to heaven
He's got an Angel on each thigh.
That's two tongues
Crying,
One to devour each side.
Mesmerized
Spread wings and fly;
Hypnotized.
When you arrive at the pearly gate, we told him
Just come inside.
No matter where I am, regardless of what I may be doing....I'm always writing a poem in my head. This one is for
My Angel.
The Lovely Miss Danielle Kern.
You've read my rant from yesterday
About those Christmas Letters
But one thing just disturbs me
Those Ugly Christmas Sweaters!!!

You know the ones we love to hate
They're  all so scratchy and they itch
You can barely get the **** thing on
And to remove it...it's a *****!!

Pictures of things Christmassy
Like a reindeer all in red
Mine looks like an emaciated cow
with a candelabra on his head

Snowflakes, trees and Norway Spruce
and colours....oh my lord
They can take them back to Norway
and throw them in the fjord!!!

My nan made one for me one year
It was silver with some blue
Turns out she used old brillo pads
Because she liked the soapy hue

They itch and scratch and don't fit right
They are a cancer to my eyes
I had one in green and red
With one sleeve down past my thighs

I thought it was a jumpsuit
The kind the paratroopers wear
The pattern pages stuck together
And that sleeve....went down to there!!!

We all have one hidden away
In a box, 'neath lock and key
In a place so nicely hidden
One we've had since we were three

We never plan to wear one more
We all know that we once  did
but, if we had to wear one out
We're gonna buy one for our kids!!!

If you need to get assistance
go to uglysweaters dot o- r- g
They can help you with your wardrobe
Tell them you heard of them from me.
i want to be
cool like
kerouac
                           bursting into a million
                           pieces with complete
                           abandon

oh jack.  
you were so wise
yet so lost in your
oblivion.
                                                                        i'm cool like kerouac
                                                                        lost in nostalgia for
                                                                        those aimless wandering
                                                                        years
not cool
cool
it's all the same
jack


                                on the road seeking a
                                new freedom
                                now that's cool
                                like far out zen cool
                                cool like ikkyu
 Dec 2012 Steve D'Beard
Tilly


*.A.  

.sleek.

.little kitten, purrs.

.sweetly, in silky ribboned box.

.hiding, little claus 'neath a pretty tree.

.of wishes.
.of dreams.
;)
Day 10,
Advent for
Yule-Tired Man.
compulsion erupts into desire
molded into empty shame.  
****** desire gone awry,
when all i wanted was
not to feel alone.

                                                         ­                         desire burst into a full on
                                                              ­                    obsession, and the loneliness
                                                      ­                            i tried to fill only gets bigger and
                                                             ­                     bigger.  
                    
                                  A life built on lies only lead to
                                  more shame and guilt.  
                                  It wasn't until I desired to try
                                  something different that I became
                                  free of compulsion.

I  am free.

Alive to live my life,
Moment to moment.

Free to
Run into
Eternity with
Ease and peace.
 Dec 2012 Steve D'Beard
B Hunter
“Echo”

Through the tip toe dance of leaves,
their blatant yells and screams,
come back to me,
come back in three.

When you spoke of me last night,
nerves trembling,
puttering,
your might - crumbles - when it touches my door.

Where I feel your heat - every - where.

The bruises down your backside,
the bullet pinned pain down your spine,
I knew you in three.
Come back to me.

Where the doomsday strain,
of constant treacherous game,
I knew it wasn't meant to be.

Please don't come back to me.

'Cause where my flesh tears here,
I linger inside the embers of fear,
and I come - I come to loathe alone.

And, He's really saying,
"I'm sorry, I guess, I'm so **** sorry,
cause your worth,
to me,
isn't set in stone."

Where the inconvenience grates the abysmal rampage,
For I cannot be caged,
as I enjoy your fits of rage.

You ignored me and misunderstood my voice,
now with my might,
you have no choice.

Do you hear me? In three?

Echo, do you hear me?

Faintly, in three,
Karma, don’t come for me.

Echo,
No choice… no choice… no choice.

What happened to your voice?
echo, pain, three, karma, strange, heartache
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