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Kewayne Wadley Mar 2018
Nothing is ever time wasted,
just the interlude to the rest of the album. Soon it becomes nostalgia. To think you almost pressed the skip button..
It's all about trying new things.
Slowing were briding the gap.
Looping untold tales of blues and jazz into our samples.
The things considered classical.
Instant vintage.
The things we keep hidden in headphones,
The venerability of hype.
It's always about the crowd.
Afraid to digest something different.
This was the first time I met her.
At first I laughed,
Reaction that I faced my own ignorance.
Listening again finding purpose.
Not knowing that we'd come to spend the rest of our lives together.
All three minutes and forty five seconds.
I was dishonest.
Not revealing anything real about myself until I heard it for the first time.
The first time she sung.
Music.
This wasn't an image to be upheld in front of others.
Or the gossip type spread circle to circle.
I was never exposed to this.
Skimming the top layer ready to press next.
Too far caught in the slander that first impressions can give.
History often repeats itself but this wasn't the case.
This was wholeheartedly the epitome of how she effected me.
The rhythm of how she moved.
How she spoke.
Like that I matured almost instantly.
She became my biggest influence.
A two way street that bridged the gap of my own ignorance.
After time I began to leave my headphones on the dresser.
We were amplified.
She'd follow me everywhere just as I'd follow her.
Soon it caught on to the masses.
Each and every thought became a publicist of what she'd recite over and over again.
A parental advisory issued with every cover.
Finding the one became a catalog.
Stumbling back to the first interlude all over again.
The copyright not for sell
Izlecan Feb 2018
Ecstasy mire in its own sorrow,
As if a ghost makes love to its shade.
The wooden door merely holds the knock;
Instead it punches out within the walls,
Dispersed as if a blow of clay.
There the sound hauls up a craft:
Foul of the wooden scent.
Just as it intertwines with cloisters,
The curves are lined into a  silhouette.
The mountainous fogs are sharpened,
The apex is buttoned and round.
The matter it is that shapes the core:
The mere marriage of soul and dust.
How a flesh can tease its craft,
As it gnaws on a clavicle(?)
The ghost sips on a river,
As if making love to its shade.
Remember the indescribable insanity of our fiery love.

Remember the sensation of lips as I caressed your soft skin;

Remember how you melted in my arms as my breath warmed your ears in whisper.

Remember the goosebumps as my hands ran across your sweet delicate skin.

Remember the sweltering heat that rose as I opened your dress,

Remember the cool air stroking your smooth silk skin as it fell to the floor,

Remember the warmth of our bodies as I pressed you tightly flesh to flesh,

Remember that tingle as you clenched your legs while I nibbled your ear,

Remember the feeling of eternity as you slowly straddled me to the floor,

Remember the scent of our passion as we tantalized,

Remember the piercing trance of desire,

Remember the penetrating ecstasy of release as you reach your peak,

Remember the night you and I became a man and woman.
Inspired from a song "Tonight is the Night by Betty Wright"
Mark Lecuona Feb 2017
You think he’s not saying enough
But you keep pushing him away
He’s telling you something
He’s a man
And when he loves someone
You’re going to feel it all over your body

It takes time for you because you’re so deep
But he swam all the way to the bottom with his eyes
He’s inside you before you even know him
Now you wonder if it’s words you want
Or oceans of sound

He tries to find the right word to say
But your beauty is beyond a poets right to describe you
Yes it is the curse you live with
A man would make love without even knowing you
But if it is so then it is so for him too
Because his heart is as alive as the depths of your soul
And you will have to trust the hands of love one more time
Mark Lecuona Feb 2017
Nothings the same
Though you think it is
But you don't know what I'm thinking
I can't whisper an ocean in your ear
You can only feel it in my body
Surging all over you because there's so much
It can't lay still
How could it
A body in motion
It's all there
It looks the same from a distance
But that's because people don't know how to look
I wonder if you know how to feel
Kewayne Wadley Feb 2017
Love, such an abstract thing.
Spread across a canvas.
Made seen by the help of brush bristles.
A vivid depiction of clear bottles made a mess.
I hope your not afraid of painting with ***** hands.
The feel of paint staining clean hands.
Here.
No one is innocent.
Not even the canvas which is neither seen nor heard
Mark Lecuona Aug 2016
When I'm with you I'm not afraid of God
I didn't ask to feel this way
You said talking to myself is talking to you
That's when I knew
Being a man is the same as being a woman
When love is a sin

When I look at you I'm not afraid of God
I didn't ask for these words to say
You said make love to me before get old
That's when I knew
You're what everyone wants but I'm the one
When love is a sin

When I think about you I'm not afraid of God
I didn't ask to live this way
You said how stupid of us to be so bold
That's when I knew
A fire is hell only for those who are afraid
When love is a sin
Entwining body and soul and mind,
Baring flesh to flesh
Soul to soul
Clinging and holding
Joining together as one
And becoming inseparable
In a moment of never ending bliss
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