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Dylan Halvorsen May 2016
I.) Bodies of

Open lakes are naked
Their secrets,
Rub like salt.
How did one get here
What seized the labour of hands.
Do we deserve to know.
Do we deserve to know the extent.
Do we deserve to know the extent of our own subjugation.
Knees meet dry earth.
It's dry where we forget to water it
Not that it needs water,
Salt finds form
In our negligence.
Arid insincerity spoke of more.


II.) To follow

We left.
We did not need to stay
A dry sterile whisper kept us there
With it's pleas for us to leave.
The trust of invitation,
Burnt holes in our wings.
Untrust of warning,
Had us leaving without our things
I don't know which is better.
A departure announced drew heed to soft cartilage.
Unsharpened curfue split bone without piercing the skin.
The expression of self.
Callous wanderers knocked at no doors;
to accept rejection.


III.) Reintegration of being

The want of murmurs in wanton misuse
Kept us foraging for lust,
For more,
For inability in casualty.
We waited for forest to arrive,
Bare earth begged of no candour,
Trees deny script.
Unclenched hands greyed over context
As purpose gave none where some was due.


IV.) What the stars offered

A quest unrelenting bends bark in fervour.
Do we know why we left,
Cold hands hock at swords needed to keep slight wrists in check.
Or where we are going,
Our aimless pacing finds direction in blind eyes and guided hearts.
All the dust settled, buried in puddles like art.
And the thunder was there
The thunder never knelt
But we listened
To listen was the choice.
A brief connection with the sky
Through it's reproach
It implored for something more,
Only upon deaf ears.
Was earth all there was to rain on?
We thought, as the stars spat on us.
Celestial offering in cleanse not spite.


V.) Love

Maybe that's why we left.
To trascend our own ideas of love.
Innocent foliage made the path harder to see,
But easier to tread.
Gentle arches hug mounds of green
Like finger tips kissed by yonic flesh.
To remember the conception in contact,
Was to recognize our own affirmation
And any word intended for the ears of the unknown.
Blood is replaced where word is love.


VI.) Relation to self

To stay or leave was not the choice
The distance from anything was illusory.
The real choice, was acceptance of self.
After the end of our disintegration,
The dry heave,
Leaving without hesitation;
We are not without ourselves.
acacia Oct 2021
relational nightmare yet vague dream of a greenless dayless slumber: night time jack with wood sprawled between his toes: four eyes and mounds of almonds for teeth, yet similar to a burly real husk-man, he stayed inside for the night: camping gear yet no shiny pearls or watch, just his axe and lovely jewels with kind eyes and brimming toothy-sandstone smile — candy man simmering in astral cream, related back to me and my angels as he waves at me like a sunny day, bringing forth the sun vignetted trees and leaves: waves of autumn and spring sprushing by us all from his slick finger. sounds hissing from his mouth and he wills his body to change with his mind, yellow construction and a **** of his teeth. fire spouts from the hole he made and he blows upon life to enforce its behavior: like its shape, he takes forth the sun as a present to the man-fire and bakes it in the earthenware cast. forgiven, again, once more for the hand rolling nature; he sweats yet wipes it off with the sand upon the ground. a towel blanket he’s made out of chimes, bells, whistles, and tones. cycling sounds produces a color of slight orange tinged with yellowish trinkets: makes my ******* cause a flurry, a flustered sight between my buttocks and the flabbergasted nature of this man. he paws and gropes at the brown fat mass upon my back side, beard full and beard sprung, playing and kicking my buttocks as if it was his toy and for this moment I loved to be this toy for him: wet creamery slides down from in between my thighs, a view from the front reveals the lowercase “w” shaped hanging buttocks cheeks I have, large and full, now in his slender vainglorious hands: surprised at the texture of my meat and surprised at his enjoyment of my derrière. the jiggling flesh bounces in his palms and my thighs and waist become his. my froth leaks from me and my roundabout teats become hardwired and ready to socket. the plump globes lift from my chest, and before he takes them in his hands, his anterior is now glued to my posterior: screams of songs delightfully escaped my mouth, rescued by his joyous moans that catches mine in the air: frivolous fribjous day! this man takes my chest, as they are his pearls, takes what is his, gropes and squeezes and pushes hope into my large milk-swollen teats: picking at my rock *******, thrusting his extended ***** boneless member into the soft slivet between my juicy ebony cheeks: his fair hands squeeze, pull, press, takes; his hips ******, rub, grind, and gives. his slender hips engulfed within the creamy huge flesh of my buttocks and his pink lips attach and **** to my dark neck: he takes me!  I push myself back, leading our bodies myself to the couch beneath him, our bodies stretched backwards and now my head rests on his shoulder, my ******* lifted and pointed in the air with his hands stuck onto my round dewdrops on my chest, and his hard fleshy pink man sliding into my wet hot ebony crevice: deititious nectar oozes from us both, slides and thrusts and our bodies dancing on one another: I bounce on top of him, my pillowy large buttocks slapping against his crotch and his regal hands cup my ******* that jiggle and bounce against his palms: my moans synchronize to the thump, slap, slap, thump of his strong pelvis pressing against my large buttocks as he lodges his thick and large ***** inside of my soft, blossomed flower: he forgets where he begins and I end as we merge into this melody of body, moans, and my head turns to his to kiss and our tongues entangle and move over each other’s bumpy wet soft surfaces: pink upon pink. his soft fair hands move to my waist while my tongue explores his mouth, moving my body up and down faster and slamming himself into me harder and harder: hitting me, my sweet ******* area, until my pinky ****** love clasps and spasms tightly around him, my goddess flower clamping tightly onto his god stem, only releasing her yonic juices that have filled the rivers, seas, and oceans; he fills me with his *****: his seed that has created trees, fruit, mountains — together we have made life, we have made the universe.
Lucky Queue Feb 2017
Recipe for an All-Purpose Orifice
Makes one serving of patience

1 part nasal cavity
1 part ******* *****
1 part yonic *****
1 part oral cavity
1 part aural cavity

Blend gently in a hollow synthetic cylinder.
Envelope the spirit of the form.
Let it set.
Gently coax the form out, once you've assured the spirit of its safety.
Accept the tedium; love can be tedious.
Set it on your shelf for people to pick up and wonder at at dinner parties.
Carry it with you when you move.
Leave instructions in your will requiring your loved ones bring it to the cemetery yearly.
https://www.instagram.com/p/BQlotrclKf2/
2.15.17
Denise Writes Jan 2018
o yonic wonder
tonic of my heart
contrast to the ******* lust
oedipus and electra
Agamennon and jocasta

cast away my iron heart
rusty with the blood and oxygen released by a dart to them part

Orestes slayed Clytemnestra and Aegisthus
I'll slay Dissertation and a hibiscus
sandra wyllie Sep 2019
everything spoiled in your world
the silver linings have turned to cheap metallic
your mouth’s becomes sewer for phallics
your body’s a wrinkled up yonic
you spent your afternoons drinking ***** and tonic
when you come in you black out
the *** at the end of the rainbow is a chamber *** –
filled to the top with you know what
it’s incredible how you never give up

— The End —