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 Jun 2017
Ahmad Cox
The rhythm of love
Is all over your face
It is a feeling that
Is hard to mistake
Our souls rise
Even soar as we
Fly tonight in our
Love as the rhythm
Takes the beat I know
The beat will last forever
As our dreams of love
Take flight as we fly
Even higher not wanting
To come down as our
Hearts lead the beat
We feel the rhythm of love
It is hard to replace
As we feel our love
And feel the beat
We know that the
Beat will last forever
Loosely based off of a song.
 Jun 2017
betterdays
the leaf no longer drips
out side my window
the sky has for the moment
stopped it's weeping,
maybe the moon got it some
hokey pokey ice cream,

it is cold enough, the puddle pools
of  water have little lace doily edges
and the hibiscus bushes are frosted

the weatherman states we are having
an unseasonable cold snap....
this is the first time the tuxedo rex
has seen frost...he is beyond freaked
and has gone into the linen ccupboard
to seek solace and warm, we find him
curled up under the guest towels

the paths are icy, as well my bottom knows
this is not a drill, we don't normally get this
cold here and frankly we are under prepared

we have towels covering every hangable surface
the dryer running constantly, the fire is eating wood
at an alarming rate...and the wifi has become unstable

and now the leaf is dripping again...

do we remember what the sun does...Do we???
She's
been
walking
down
the same never-ending,
winding corridors,

Dimmed lights,
***** white walls,
no windows,
no doors,
square-tiled floors.

Dragging
her
feet
for what seems like
an eternity,

Stupid girl!
Her mind in a whirl!
Holding hope for an exit,
dreaming about
what it would be like
on the other side of those walls--externally.

Accustomed to the restrictions - sadly!

Hurting, defeated, anxious - badly!

Imprisoned mentally!

Acknowledging it, finally!

No denial, there, nor here!

You'd think she'd be over the fear;

Well, she's not!

She still hurts alot!

All alone in her mind
with her messy thoughts
and her regrets,

She's given away so much
unconditional love,
her heart and soul
have many outstanding depts.

She's had way too much time
to think about
all of the ****
that she's been through!

She hasn't healed,
those ***** walls don't understand,
they listen,
but they haven't any clue!

She's
kept
moving
down
those same corridors,
never wanting to look back,

With only one direction,
you'd think it be impossible
that she would get so lost...
I mean, after all,
it's a one-way ****** track!

But she did,
and she always does, too!

Getting confused, and lost,
for her, is nothing new!

She found herself
in those deserted corridors
at a very young, tender age,

Don't know how or why
it happened to her,
I can't even begin
to try to explain it
on this page.

I wish i could,
it would probably help her alot
if i did,

But it's a very long story,
winding and never-ending,
just like those corridors,
so it's best that I don't lift the lid.

She doesn't want to look back,

I
guess
she'll
just
keep
going
down
the same
relentless,
hopeless
track!

By Lady R.F.(C)2017
 Jun 2017
wordvango
the ultimate masterpiece
   of soft flesh perfection
an ideal of creation

where life meets
   conception
form fits function

life breathes anew
    softly
then rages in cries

heard loudly
    of deities
of Goddesses

of galaxies brightness
    dimming
in awe

marrow and bone
     clothed
in eternal gloriousness

standing as
     God  
made her

for the flowers
     moons
man to absorb

for life to have
     hope and
eternal glow
 Jun 2017
zebra
in the house of poems
there are no words
only sheaths of rapture
color and puzzle cutouts
on an empty table
mute
composed of shadow thin
aching smoke ghosts
desires
aphotic and tender
twisting souls in labyrinths lurid
*** shake sweet inky *******
that turn earth
to pleasure domes
and shadows
like cimmerian children
in harsh judgment
******* on
purple night shade candies
burning incense and black candles
uncrossing energies foreboding
while subterranean crystals
refract burnished glows
pulsing blood diamonds
in sacred heart manias
throb with warm breathy kisses
on plates of ash
engulfing
a terrace of pink flickering tongues
drooling and biting
that turn mere pleasure
into inflammations of ecstasy
oozing creme de menthe saliva
where souls levitate and flutter
on bilious stained beds
copulating
being impregnated with verse
smelling of warm **** cauldron

fetuses curl
in their little crib's
and bubble tapioca lyric wrangles
afterbirths purged
poems emerge
like sand bars and palm tree islands
from
sopping woven tunnels
and

caress upturned poetic posteriors
dancing in glitter frilly word tutus
while torrid confessions
dreaded breakdowns
and resurrections
dress themselves in garments
of language re-pleat
quickened by eloquence
in the house of poems
 Jun 2017
betterdays
what wild dreams
do you have as you
sleep away the days
til rain comes again
and unsticks the glue
around your door

whilst you are curled
up inside your nautilus
door closed to the world

do you dream of lettuce
leafy and green,
or puddles and wet grass
that tickles your foot

what do you dream
all tucked up, tight
with eyes retracted
and stomach slim.

what are the dreams
of the small snail
as he awaits, the rains
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