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 Feb 2015
Liz And Lilacs
I'm still waiting
for Peter Pan
to come take me
away to never land.

I'm still waiting
for my fairy godmother
to come work her magic
and make me beautiful.

I'm still waiting
for my seven dwarves
to come save me
from the hunter.

I'm still waiting
for the big bad wolf
to come huff and puff
and blow the house down.

I'm still waiting
for the white rabbit
to come lead me
down the rabbit hole.

Where is my escape?
I am no princess.
 Feb 2015
Oberon
your raven hair falls
so lingeringly
surrounding the roses
blooming on your cheeks
the barren air kisses
your small tan face
good morning

your mouth whispers of words
in a language that
took me forever and a day to fathom
but it took me a mere second
to drown in the golden of your orbs
the glimmer on the caspian sea
leaving me suffocated
gasping for air

until you pulled me
up and into
a spiraling labyrinthe
of endless summer nights
our love forever
carved into towering cherry trees

you saved
my mooning soul
and made me
a slave to your beauty
a long overdue antidote
madly overdosing me to
a point of **no return.
♡♡♡
"at day you are the Sun that gives me warmth, at night you are the Moon enrapturing me in romance."
♡♡♡
 Feb 2015
Onoma
Unforeseen flowers bobbing a wind's forever heyday...
submerged as if coral.
I could fit my valley into the shadow, and shadow into
its death with such balance.
What's overcome is sworn to secrecy...formulaic, rotund
and malignant what was prayer...even by all the loose
interpretation it suffocated the uneven, as unknown
factors of the life it's put to.
Here, as here is always concerned--it seems fruit of
Garden variety grows as to confine its worm.
It is here, as here is always concerned--I turn worm-ward...
to ultimately reveal nothing--linger coolly and repulsively.
We've an aversion to things that burrow and avert grasp--
a reward goes out for the head, or piece of such a thing
from the selfsame head.
Why is it our prayers are sent forth to expel the evils
we've gathered?
Prayer's construct is meant to be singular as it stands...
heartfelt--airtight in its sentiment.
Thus, by such definition I believe prayer is no longer
prayer--as it is here, as here is always concerned.
If you were to visualize such a prayer, the object of
devotion would become the objects of devotion to
overcome, conquer the God appealed to.
As an egoist is devoted to the objects of his/her nature...
as it were, an object may slip, avert the worm of such
prayer.
Hence, what does prayer become when its clasped
fingers curl under the spell of a blackening ******?
Power lust, the bending, curling of will in prayer form
shape-shifts, and is submitted to God as prayer.
A loathsome possession of plummeting powers feeling
for themselves in adoration at every odd, and odder
angle.
As prayer was meant to be the prodigal son/daughter's
offering to the disclosed, yet undisclosed infinite...
here, as here is always concerned, the line lies to its end
to forego what is endless...unforeseen flowers
bobbing a wind's forever heyday...submerged...as if coral.
Of prayer, now--clasped hands die upon one another,
come to separately...without even the capacity to unify
such experience.
O hands of duality--meant to meet of prayer...kiss of life,
for kiss of death.
Such hands are fit for a prayer viewed by a shaman upon
the deepest cave wall, fireside.
As if two serpents deeply kissing, open-mouthed...world
to world experience is offered up...volleyed, interlocked
by and by...till God intuited as to appease such intimate
impossibility.
Who, or what could wish to keep at bay such words of
being...thereupon to release them to The Word?
Why...none other than we, so cherished by our
incomprehension it's founded us...and thus we must pray!
These two hands taken as token...as it is here, as here is
always concerned--I could fit my valley into the shadow...
and shadow into its death with such balance.
 Feb 2015
Onoma
There's a vine shaped as lightning--
grapes bittersweet, supple...come to it,
each an epiphany.
Crushed, their red skin lets out juice,
life-yield.
Sealed up and put away...the body knows
its blood, wine-empurpled, crimson throb.
At the wrists, at chest, at temples, at neck.
A synchronized pulse keeps in touch,
batting wings.
It is love that's prepared...to move what's
been born of it.
Embodied to embody--there you are my love.
In shock we've been sutured One.
A forever downed to earth, to imbibe drunken
passion--to keep the body from falling over
lest by love.
No cusp more steady than two lips touching
tale--an Edenic one.
Yet--the more we juxtapose bodies, something
ruptures--hands go wild to clutch that ******.
In shame we block the parts that entered
one another so freely.
Shadows are broken light--love can be
prodigiously cruel, but who among us has heart
to expel such cruelty?
Thusly...the heart drinks deep...to benumb.
 Feb 2015
Onoma
I Am the Messiah come
to deliver me--
I have come to pass.
Mine own Messiahship  reaches
hand and foot into a
Heaven and Hell.
I have come to pass exponentially,
I Am with me.
I Am breath entranced to breathe...
by a breathing air.
I Am the air of breathing air--
I Am not the fear of a body--
I wear it well.
I Am within, without me--
I have come to pass
exponentially.
I Am with me.
*Our True Calling...
 Feb 2015
rose14195
I thought we where friends
but her shorts showed to much skin
her body invited me in
her screams where uniformed
her skin was just to warm
I could tell she wanted more
by the hairs standing on her arms
why was she fighting back?
maybe she needed a drink
maybe acholol will help her think
I got up for a second
but she tried to run away
I tied her to my desk
until she knew she wanted to stay
I tried to give her acohol
but she spat in my face
I shoved the glass in her mouth
all she needed was a taste
While I was waiting for the acohol
to make the change
she started to get loud
screamed she would get saved
so i punched her in the face
It wasnt me
dont you see
she wanted me too
her shorts were to short
she showed to much skin
when she walked into my classroom
she basically invited me in
I just wanted to share thier mindset no matter how ******* up it is.
 Feb 2015
Francie Lynch
What load has us braying?
We toil. Work for meals,
Clothes and housing,
Cars and holidays.
The celebrations of our lives
In our American
Middle-class struggle.

Is it the price of gas,
Steak or beer.
My lawn could use
More watering.
The streets are clean,
And the plow just
Filled in my drive.
The copper-plated coffin
Had me cry;
The kids left for school
Without saying good-bye.
And it took way too long
For the shower to heat up.
No?
Perhaps we should clam-up.
Count our blessings,
Add them up.
Then subtract Iraq.
 Feb 2015
izzi3
i'm just a puzzle with
most of my pieces
missing
and those still there
the paint's peeling away

what's left is blackness
and water damaged cardboard

but then there's you,
a word that does not sound
like what it means
a violent shiver
a simple glance

and me, i'm
waiting for your return
i'm not entirely sure if this makes sense
or is any good
feedback appreciated ty
Your fragrance lingers on my nose
The way your soft fingertips touched me,
is what I miss right now.
That day, you said that your smile is so special.
Like sunflower and sun,
you always smile softly to me.
"My smile is yours completely.."
"No matter what seasons there might be, I'll always be your sunflower,
searching for my sun."

Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, 4 seasons,
I'm Missing You.

The moment when we spent our times under the blooming trees.
The times we spent strolling around the heat.
The path that we walked through together with orange leaves leading us.
The way we cuddle each other like penguins on the Arctic.
I'm missing it all again.

You once said that  L  O  V  E  is forever,
but then you say it's a never ever.
A heartbreak story within 4 seasons :) Hope you enjoy!
 Feb 2015
Jamie King
Benign, benevolent ballerina bubbly bathing by beautiful blossoming balsams.

A gander I took and I was a statue, still, allured, and enchanted. my lips basted by beauty, before her I was an apparition, lost in forests of adulation.

A vanishing spirit soon to be a vestige of a vestige. I shall wage wars, arm myself and battle my way to her hands that can melt the glaciers residing in my heart.
What if I said public speaking.. mhhhh enjoy.
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