It's only bi-sexuality,
Who gives a ****?
It's consensual sexuality
Between loving partners.
It ***** being on the cusp
Of any one lean,
But so much worse
Being truly in-between.
It's not indecision,
Not confusion.
That's what's so perplexing
To any outside party.
Not that
It's any easier internally.
For I understand myself
And am comfortable with me,
But it's
Just the nature of society.
Nature of our philosophies,
Nature of our identities.

I'm just a product of nature.

We're all
Royal plains for an ***.
We're all
Noble springs *******.

I'm just a lover of nature.

If I seem to be having a laugh,
That's not a point you're missing.
But if you can't sense the sadness
It's cause they're kissing.

Talc, with no time
Appropriate to simplify another's wish
Since, in a senses chew, the crusp and the rhyme
Letting the sun wind its way around a finger, a subtle is...

Weight of an argument, in future language
I have seen a whole dilemma, in love
The thought of strength, the taut and strange
Has a quiet answer for us...?

Tomorrow is my future, the tale of youth in song
Reconciliation, to work a liberty's magic
In the name of distant courage's, a heroism among
The place of desiring a fame, is it ours for the tragic?

Today has such a cold stare, for each
And beloved above, for any soul able to mean
The voice of redemption, a clash in the fate of reach
That has become but food for thought, with sincerity to glean

Yesterday to step forward, toward the patience we, sake
Welcome to the city of the sun, a praise of misery
And the coming mention of worth, from lips to fury, make
Me the truth, a halt of wishes in secluded lines, lived in history

The dance and the stone of cleverness?
Sides of worlds in love with me, not the avoiding heart
We saw make the story of wantonness, a presence of dread
Adding but the voice of summation, are we a new day to start?

as the gunmen circle around my fragile corpse
and my ichor seeps out my hollow vessel
my eyes will be forever trained on you
as i ask one final question:
is my love to be
paid in blood?

Indigo silence?
Above the ley we intone:
Special to us, the speed of thus
Hope you same the ides of worldly fun...

Predators of let, lots to a man that can
A whole reason, to verify a loose thought
Resplendency as a candor was, a sense of a plan
Where no man has a dread for you, a place for a spirit mocked

Live up to a wall of service, the voice spoken, the voice proven
Has you by the family of gall, if not the gaiety
We accustom to a liberation of the yet to be loving...
Ask the silence, if we can spare the gait of anxiety?

Hatred, patron, and saccharine
In a rolling cloud of disproof, we saw your knickers
When a bird has come home, for the worst a callous stare means
Create a sunny rational with a blessing that has none for a future...

Winds of solemnity
Winds of paradise, to reach the truth
Winds of persuasion, perceived in a chosen liberty
Winds of virtue, with a stipend for youth

Is it us, or the winds changed direction?
Solace in the name of strength, and the might of a friend
In the way of your chaste, if not hastes inflection
Is this wind a fury in the voice of empathy or an enemies rend?

Notice the guitar...
Asking a power, is mercy in the wishes we gave
Is a clash with youth, a head to turn or an answer
With the sweetest you, we have ever seen a hair give, you a savior

Shame on a placebo, that has intone for the pride of glue?
Here, pissy, and ****
We wave the colors of remembering, your example to fruit
On the table, in the tree, and the eyes we are seeking for a world's vexation...

This poem was mused by:
"Shakespeare won't look at me" by ThomasW.Case
-----------------------------------  -------------­-------------------

We fill our lives with work and stress
in the lust for new possessions
we're taught that this is called success
and it makes for good impressions

But pleasures we’re taught to suppress
so our souls will fly up to the heavens
but this flesh that god has gifted us
are our only true possessions

If we find ourselves casually undressed
which is frankly, our natural condition
and if ****** needs should be addressed
there’s no need for ****** confessions

for pleasure is something to be expressed
if we’re alone or in a marvelous coalition
So I wish you satisfaction in elations quest
as you work the knobs, slants and levers
because this isn’t some kind of competition

P.S. Will Shakespeare was familiar with *******'s guilty thrills.
"The expense of spirit, in a waste of shame is lust in action"
.
.
A song for this:
Flowers by Miley Cyrus

Tell me the truth
It was a lie
How can you make death
feel so Alive
I would have spit
The venom out
But rather
I'll walk out
Because I can love a girl or a guy...

He's a beauty, like

a flower, I pick and stick --


him between my teeth.