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 Dec 2012 Jimmy Kerr
Deepsha
Pearls bleed from the pores of my skin
sparks dance where your fingers touch
the ocean neath my lashes hides in ecstasy
the sun melts in the heat of our familiarity
the mist of my yearning deepens into a ravaging wave
your burning desire surmounts the effect of haoma
a delineation of this moment weakens my knees
I clasp the air and feel the hiemal wind chime
my mind bears a simulacrum of your perfection
exulting in the reminiscence of a beau ideal
when you whisper you will be back soon
my eyes close to annul our distance too defined
turning my heart jocund, my senses sublime.
 Dec 2012 Jimmy Kerr
DieingEmbers
My body
warm against
your naked back...

as your curves
mould gently
fitting mine
drawing
me close.

The scent of your hair
and sheet warmed skin
arrousung
my inner beast
my primevil needs.

Morning arises in your
willing smile
as we
slow dance to our own beat...

once more.
 Dec 2012 Jimmy Kerr
Katie Ruby
Sometimes love isn't enough,
Lust is hidden in everyone,
Hidden deep within,
Amazing places can be picked for ****** adventures,
I am treated like a rare and precious gem
And do not lose his respect for being so wild,
The bedroom can be a place where imagination is born,
Imagination and desires are the most important weapons,
Alluring colours and sweet moments on the lips,
******* is physical,
It's language with it,
Bad words are not bad words in the bedroom,
But used by lovers to express their love,

Love is a symphony, a melody and a song
Love is an adventure
 Dec 2012 Jimmy Kerr
Sam Martin
Its horrible is'nt it?
when you wake up to a bed
a stable paid roof, upon your sweet head
bundles of clothes, its really the worst
when one of your shirts is'nt matching the first
you cry of your life
you'll never win
but you do not think
of what could've been
i am so weird
you might assume
cause' i live in a house
with only one room
dont wanna go on
cant tell the whole world
it will be in time
unraveled, unfurled
so awake  your tired eye
make a grand cup o' tea
cause the room that i speak of
is a thing called adversity
You dont know what you have until you lose it.
Death stands above me, whispering low
I know not what into my ear:
Of his strange language all I know
Is, there is not a word of fear.
Yesterday, I printed some of my poems.
Black letters on ivory, one hundred percent cotton, twenty-four pounds.
It felt strange to hold my words in my hands,
making concrete, that abstract part of myself.

Here is the proof, there is more to me.
There is more.


Is it really possible to uncover these secret,
hidden places within myself?

Are a rose, and the scent of a rose, one and the same?

— The End —