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 Nov 2024
Caits
I am the definition of a god’s love

I may come bearing gifts
Showering you in adoration and devotion
wrapped in the most pleasurable ways
caring for you in ways you have never known
caressing your soul in the most intimate ways

only to leave when you least expect it

left begging at an alter
I’ve vacated and no longer visit
 Oct 2024
Druzzayne Rika
The thoughts of my mind
the words of my tongue
it's the same as what gen ai does
But the soul that I am
it's beyond the dimensions
unreplicated but same as you
 Oct 2024
South-by-Southwest
(Fractured Fairytale #99)

beneath the bends of Barrymoor . . .

on the southwest winds she chants some more . .

the clouds scoot by beneath full moon . . .

some say she's crazy like a loon . . .

dressed in Black she cackles back while tossing ashes from a velvet sack . . .

then she throws her body down . . .

moans and sobs into the ground . . .

a dagger she does draw it forth . . .

holding high for all its worth . . .

she shrieks and damns her birth . . .

then plunges it into her heart . . .

. . . so ends the life of the young ****. . .


now the owls come fluttering in . . .

alighting next to still warm skin . . .

all walk around the disposed young beast . . .

only uttering "Who ?" to say the least . . .

then the Great Owl comes fluttering in . . .

he'd be a giant if he were made of men . . .

he collectively surveys the scene . . .

takes a few steps before he says a thing . . .

"Take her body to Evermore !" . . .

the great one does order and implores . . .

and all the owls take to wing . . .

holding the remains of the breathless thing . . .

and take her earthly shell away . . .

"To the sacred woods of Evermore ."

yes sacredness be in evermore .  . .
 Aug 2024
Traveler
Spiritual books
Systematic teachers
All are just roads
To be stuck upon
When it’s time to let go
You will know
The universe is calling you to grow!
Traveler Tim

It must have a pretty bad spirit if you have to explain that it’s spiritual and not literal.
 Aug 2024
Traveler
I must admit, I do suspect,
the narrator has nothing left.
No winning blow to slay the beast, no end of madness to say the least.

No more words
that please and set the tone
of narratives we’ve set in stone.
I’ll no longer follow nor will I lead some counter narrative to true history.
Traveler 🧳 Tim
 Jul 2024
Traveler
Could the eloquent of words
impair me?
I see the meanings of what you’ve left behind..
The turmoil of your precious life.
Your sun and moon
by design..
Lie to yourself
in clever entries.
Surely you are the one
the gods envy!
TT
Wicked tongue Poetry
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