There's more than what meets the eye
Brittle grass a sign of change
Speaking words that sound good
With their underlying reason.

We all come to a point in our lives,
Where we meet that divide in the woods.
And must make the choice
Of following the path we have had paved for us
Or going deeper into that silent wood
To make our own path in the sticks and stones
And jicama wire.

The latter means nothing
But it sounds good on the tongue
Vibrating in the mouth
And filling the air in front of you.
Saying once more
Jicama wire.

It rolls off the tongue so nicely
And that is what poetry is
An expression of existence
A philosophical realization of the now
And of being.

We write words that may or may not have meaning
And on paper we convey our inner feelings
As best we can, to understand them
For they are in an ancient language
We have long forgotten,
Remembered and understood only in our understanding
Of the now.

So say what feels good,
Choose what path in that wood
Language long lost
Now filling the air around you
As you read the words aloud
And find pleasure
In jicama wire

I pose on all fours
Waiting for you to mount me
My Love starts pulsing as
I watch you move towards me
You stroke yourself in your hands
My eyes are begging you
to use your rigid tool on me
To Feel you plunge deep
into the depths of my soul
As I close around you
My wetness envelops your manhood

My pulse is racing as you enter
And pound against my soft pliant vessel
My breath rushes out rapidly
I try to hold on as long as I can
To savor every moment.
Every feeling.
Each powerful ******.

I can’t stand it any longer!

I tense as
I allow my body to receive
All that it needs
From you
I release all my tension
As my ****** washes over me.
Wave after wave crashing against my body

I cry out in ecstasy
My muscles convulse
But you don’t stop there
You keep your tempo going
Harder. Faster.
Trying draw every drop of nectar out of me.
Then you feel your own finish approaching
You take what you need as well
From me
I moan as you spill your essence into me.

I long to have you lead me to that place.
That ends with you
Lying on top of me
Satisfied.
Happy.
And replete.

Truly no literally , i am conjested,
in this world of desire as i seek ,
i did my best, i know you did too,
then why we feel conjested,
shouldnt we be happy about it?
or it just didnt feel good?
what can we do to make ourselves happy ,
i ask everyone, i know you do too,
i am alone and so are you,
why i am not content,
even though this poem tells me i am pretty shrewd.
i dont think this happiness person wants just a successful robot,
he wants a host merry enough to understand his own thoughts,
so i hope this poem tells you to to be a happy failure,
nothing success can buy if you are deadline saviour.

In my search for happiness,
I found pleasure and prayer,
Satisfaction and abstinence.
How much of it was true
And how much an illusion?

People spoke of balance
But to me it was about
Giving it all up
Or completely giving in.

I decided to give in
But only to the realm within
And yet I could not differentiate
How much of it was true
And how much an illusion.

Look how two can become one
How can one become home
How can home be so sweet

The reversed diffraction
The sweetest distraction
The everwanted satisfaction

Cupcakes and daybreaks
Cute bed sheets and lemon flavored sweets.

A retired man returns to work:
he's tired of his freedom.
Watched every show,
Read many books,
The lone-king of his kingdom.

A life of striving, working, waiting,
finally completed.
Now finds it empty,
finds it wasted,
hope has been depleated.

He woke at last before his death,
and let out one last sigh.
Reflections hurt,
Regrets aplenty,
Long past time to die.

For a thousand reasons they've hated me
Waiting in the shadows, for a daily treat
Stuck in this hell hole, to be the predator
Never was the intention to hurt others
Even my sweetest words can harm them
Condolences on behalf of my mourning
In the middle of a terrible story, I stand
As the hero and the villain, a modern drama

Let me dry out under the sun rays
Falling, shattering leaves all over the ground
As their celebration begins in this beautiful evening
As death comes forth, I await a merciless judgment