SHAME!!! SHAME!!! SHAME!!!!

It’s a huge shame on the men who think its their place to strip women naked.

Shamelessly, they quote the bible, “it’s the temple so it should not be displayed”
If that is the case, why didn’t the “believers” who were present take a leso or kikoi to the lady to cover the temple? Instead you strip her???
You are the most sinful of them all and you deserve to have been thrown at the first stone.
SHAME SHAME SHAME!!!

Shame on the men who think that just because you show some skin, you need a touch.
Dressing is done for whatever reason that is personal to a soul.
No dressing is right or wrong.
It’s a shame how ignorance has raided our society and posed as norms and stupid absurd “morals”
How about we pull your trousers down when you sag them to the lowest place your belt can find?
Huh?
SHAME SHAME SHAME!!!

Shame on the men who live in the stone age era of blaming the appearance of women as a push for ***.
Why not long for the ones you see on the soaps, or movies or all???
Why not dress your women in whatever you think  looks appealing and only you, could strip them when you get home for your own pleasures?
SHAME SHAME SHAME!!!

Shame on the men who have brought women to the level of slavery!
Could this be insecurity making your head full??
Do women now do better than you? Yes!
Do they stand for themselves without you or even better than you? YES!
Do they have a voice? YES!!

So SHAME on you when you let your face be seen on the camera stripping a woman and shamelessly putting your fingers inside her privates.
SHAME on you for stripping a woman her integrity and dignity and letting the whole world know.
Your Education was a Fail!!!
I recommend you go back to school and learn some more.
This is a sign of IDLENESS, DEBAUTCHERY and POSSESED IDEOLOGY of SADISM!!!
Its is DEVILISH!

Who is our society raising?
Fathers or Defilers?

REMEMBER that this person, next time,
This, could be your sister,
Your mother
Or your wife!!

SHAME! SHAME!! SHAME!!!

©TheUnspoken

yeah, the sun, the moon,
the craving, the coffee in the morning,
thesis, antithesis, synthesis
the old dream out in the open
and the girl who doesn't say "I love you"

she's whispered in the mist
of unknown cities
devoted
en pathos
(like the priestesses of the old temples)
young horses measuring the
silence between words
hello, says the devil

and the sun and the moon,
the craving follow unknown routes
she's having her coffee black
in an imaginary morning
holding the synthesis of "I do"&"I don't"
(love you fiercely)

her shadow is passing
with the wind
between memories
chasing the shape of
tomorrow

Shimmers, shutters, clutters, boomers...
Sounds of a wrecked soul.

My boat, on the green sea sailed, no swirls, a clean sails.
Then i hit the log...I didn’t see it, I promise.
It was all clear, I was sure about it.
Then like a curse the wind blew across, strongly, my boat swayed.
I couldn’t row...
NO...I forgot how to swim...because smooth was all I knew longest time.
My boat over turned...capsized
My body, gravity could not spare.
I fought for breath...Gasped...panted
All to bring my body to float, but the waters were too heavy for me..
Immersed...
Drowning...
Dying.
As my eyes shut, too weak to fight anymore...I let go and let the light gates open for me...My body, light now
As i appear at the surface.
Gone.
...that is how it felt...
Just a minute...when You walked out of my door.

© The Unspoken

today you died one more time
before words -
they dissolve migrant birds,
their shadows carry the sky

it's not enough
you're watching me
with tango movements
my desire, your birth tonight
and the chronicle of a redeemed body

it's you again
drawing my tomorrow uninvited
in this frame of reference
we are not symbiotic lovers
but fearful whispering prayers,
one blank sun,
the remains of a sea,
some irrational numbers...

When She looked at him,
He was busy trying to make sense of the world.
And when He finally freed himself from his chains and searched for Her,
She was gone.
A silent whisper in the treacherous night,
Lost forever among the stars.

I see butterflies.
I see colours.
*And I see you.

I dream of a place,
Where he is mine.
Where the arms that envelop me in their security,
Are His.
                I dream of a place,
                Where the lips that devour me
                In their seek for passion and glory,
                Are his.
I dream of place,
Where the eyes that pierce all the walls that I have meticulously built,
Are the same shade of golden brown,
As his.
                And I dream of a place,
                Where his voice soothes the apertures in my head,
                Where his hand traces the tears that trickle down my cheek,
                Where the warmth in his body, diffuses the cold in My heart.
I dream and I dream,
But in the end,
That's just what they are,
*Dreams.

She confused him, that creature of The Wild.
He belonged to her, without a shadow of doubt.
But she was the moon to his sun, The darkness to his light.
She was the yin to his yang, and the throes of fire that consumed his sea.
While he conquered worlds,
She stayed trapped in her self erected prison.
And as her flew to the universe beyond reach,
She sank in a bottomless pit.
And yet,
He was drawn to her.
Like the cycle that held day and night,
And the inexplicable line between captive and Captor.
        One could not exist without the other,
        *But neither, could they exist together.

In the depths of the bloodied waters
stones were dissolving -
via an echo the wind was telling me,
the rain brought back to my hearing
rhythms of an ancestor song
with one ear stalking the other
I was beginning already to be divided

monologizing - dialogizing
let us go to sleep maybe the reality
we lost will come to us in a dream

the coldness which came from a misunderstanding
had a touch of nobility
then out of pride came scorn
then hate, then we came
to inhabit the same body
like two convicts in one cell
who are fighting underhand
but suddenly stop when they hear
the warden's step

I am myself scarred on the inside
and have no right to pronounce harmony
between you
but take out the ashes while there is time
give the spirit shape

Ioanid Romanescu, from *Time's Expansion

sometimes
i think
it'd all be easier
if i
simply
never
existed

lives burn bright
and die out

some are remembered
and some forgotten

each light is precious and unique
in the end which lights are remembered is
insignificant