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I heard a whisper in the darkness
from deep within
the blossoming of a dream
and as it bloomed I was falling
falling
into a voracious summer stream.

Fading away from the world
I found myself learning
that bliss
was a desperate yearning
from within a wuthering abyss.

The whisper faded into the night
as a form emerged
from a place within the mist,
and I heard an echo without a sound
as I stood immobile,
transfixed.
“Everything you see has its roots in the unseen world.
The forms may change, yet the essence remains the same”
~Rumi

http://skyblueandblack.com/2015/01/13/blossoming-of-a-dream/
Blossom radiates,
a fragrant utopia
natures true art form.
Those pearls rolling down the sky
Breezing leaves dried in sun
Touching the ***** of earth
Sweeping its skin so browned
Those moist drops of rains
Kissing every bud juvenile
Blossoming as flowers in love
Wiping the melancholic air
Those tears from clouds falling
Framing necklaces of rivers
Covering land stretches so green
Spreading smiles worth a million
Take my hand.
Close your eyes.
Breathe me in.
Just free your mind.

It’s only us.
Time does not exist.
There’s no need to rush.
Just enjoy this bliss.

Trace my lips,
As you hear me speak.
Can you hear the thumping,
Of my racing heartbeat?

Let your hand,
Graze my cheek.
As I listen intently,
To the words you speak.

Do you feel the air,
Brush by your skin?
Do I stir up something
Deep within?

Relax your muscles.
You’re safe with me.
Forget the world.
As we make our own melody.
Today these feelings are billowing
                        like a prevalent arbitrary
       tension
            of poets as elves
Is there any
              thing new
                          to be proud of  
                          a words structured in an order
                                  peculiarly pleasant
                              refind enough
                                 just and justified
                                                       as
                                                      the right chord
                                                                ­              is
                        as a melody of a classical piano
to be laid down on a virtual array
of a poetry realm
over                                                       ­           ((  night  I've   danced

beautifully   with you  ))


      laping     erratically      striking    
harsh      on   hearing           nerves system

embrace thy emptiness
                                  to write is to discover
                                        to arbeit machts mir frei
praying for minutes for a pasus that's not so
     poignantly  s  l  o  w
                   after

                    hysterya of bumping crazy chords stampede
fades

hope         that you are looking as nice as a well nurtured horse
horhe
     hi **  
            four legged friends are a balsam
for our torn souls

wrecked emptyness is eating me alive
                 as a wicked
                      bewilderd beast

you are a honey jar
tilled with a bunch
     of naughty
    mischievous
sunny rays
                      tickle tickle
                             maroon and gold sweety
                          
I need a bachelor
I needn't think unappropriate
I need to breathe I need to breathe
I needn't think about parasympathics
A n d D a m n   I n e e d B a c h
Imagined by
Impeccable Space
Poetic beauty
Longing for an intimate connection

But I don't have patience for emotional misconceptions

Hording what you call love

At the pinnacle is just numb

A mental blockage that needs a shove

To cooperate with the blind, deaf, and dumb

When you can see, listen, and communicate

Can darken what you're try to illuminate

Fickle misunderstandings dwell in physical connections

They oppose the facade of mental perceptions

Which lead the spirit to deceptions

If this is focusing because of the poetic logic

I only love you physical so you can put it mentally behind you
I.
When you sleep
your spine curls
like a question mark
and there's always
too much space.

II.
You lay alone,
belly down on your bed.
You can't breathe
and you don't mean
to but you cry out,
arms wrapped around
your body,
clutching your sides.
You fall apart.

III.
You want to scream.
You want to scream
because it hurts.
You're empty
and everything aches.
You're tired of trying
and waiting and
waiting and waiting
and always
going to bed alone.

IV.
It is a never-ending prayer.
In the back of your mind,
it plays like a soundtrack.
Please, please, please, please.

V.
They say it happens when
you least expect it.
You wonder if you can
use reverse-psychology
on the Universe.

VI.
You'll fall in love
with every man
who looks at you
without turning away.
Every touch
from any stranger
electrifies you.
You still feel it
three
days
later.

VII.
You write letters
to the Universe.
Sometimes you're
angry but usually
you're just broken.
You're always asking
*why?
Trying something new. Just a draft.
The moment
i reached over to you
and whispered in your ear
(over the hard piece separating us)
and I whispered
"Wish you were in town...."
"Why?" he asked turning from the stage..
"Well... because..
                                                       ­     * because I love how you kneel at church
                                                          ­     how you always seem to be around
                                                          ­     how you perk up your eyebrows
                                                              **­w we talk about how God graced us
                                                              ­how you are so smart. In Anatomy and Psychology
                                                      ­         how your eyes make my shoulders slump
                                                           ­ (I think it's because my chest collapses, must be somethin' in there)
                                                          ­   because you asked me to an opera
                                                             how you smile after I mess up
                                                             that you open up doors for me
                                                             I love your funny Dr. Fischer impressions
                                                     ­         that you work in an italian restaurant
                                                      ­        and play the guitar and go to church to praise God
                                                              **­w your lips seem so incredibly soft
                                                            ­  and I lose myself in your eyes....

-"I was wondering if you could go to the Sadie-Hawkins dance with me?"
-"I would love to Sophie!"

-"I just thought you would have already been asked!"                                 red
-"No, I don't have *that
many women chasing after me" wink
-"Hah, yeah I couldn't imagine why." wink

                                                      
                                                             .................................................................­............................................*Sigh
 May 2015 Rosalie Marlboro
Sarina
Freud would understand
why I need you to **** me
so hard and so much.
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