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Horizons traced with trembling hands
breathe darkest depths aglow
bring pinkest rose to scarlet hues
all innocence be thrown
dew forming now on swollen bud
sweet nectar old as time
as shaking limbs cry out in bliss
to you, sweet love of mine.

Or....


Rut me, **** me, kiss me, **** me
take me on all fours
throw my back against the wall
then roll me on the floor
Abuse me, use me, wear me out
and make me scream your name
then have a swig of bedside beer
and do it all again.
This challenge was born of conversation, I prefer to write in a traditional style, so my buddy Ryan challenged me to write a traditional verse, with *** as it's theme followed by, as he put it, a translation. There ya go Ry! :-) x
Is it because I didn't talk to you enough?
Is it because I didn't treat you well enough?
Is it because I didn't give you enough of my time?
Is it because you never wanted to be mine?

Is that why? Is that why you had to leave me?
Is that why? Is that why you had to go?

Is it because things are getting too hard for you?
Is it because you felt I couldn't comfort you?
Is it because you didn't want to burden me?
Is it because you just wanted what was best for me?

Is that why? Is that why you had to leave me?
Is that why? Is that why you had to go?

Is it because you knew we weren't meant to be?
This here is a little poem that came from the top of my head one night two months ago while thinking about music. I had to urge to write it down while I still had the idea in my head.

It's one of those poems that focuses on the aftermath of a breakup between two close friends. The lyrics were mostly influenced by Pink Floyd's "Mother" from their famous musical extravaganza "The Wall" (1979). I didn't want to be too specific about the couple in question; heterosexual or homosexual, interspecies or not, it's all up to your imagination.

---

Lyrics © Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude

DO NOT USE OR REDISTRIBUTE FOR PROFIT WITHOUT PERMISSION.
jamie Apr 2014
i am not
a nail to hang a picture
a switch to turn on a light
a key to open a door
a broom to sweep a floor

so why must you think
it is okay
to treat me like these few?
i am a person
a mind
a soul
i was not made
to be used


- j.m.d.
jamie Apr 2014
one
the music rolls through the windows softly, like the smell of cinnamon buns.
drifting through the hallways, each note finds its way to the next.

the flickering of the candles dance with the tunes.
the guitars strum; each string adding clarity to each word sung.
the drum keeps beat; the heart which pumps rhythm through the veins of the
song.

oh how i love to sing, with this orchestra of one.
one world, one place, one song; one.


- j.m.d.
jamie Apr 2014
an eagle riding the bursts of wind
a boat sailing across the sea
running wild through wildflowers
just letting it be
daring to be yourself no matter what others may think
living life openly without one blink
freedom


- j.m.d.
jamie Apr 2014
as the sun covers up with a blanket
and tucks itself in,
the moon rises, shining bright,
ready to be seen again.

it sings a sweet melody
as the starts whistle a tune,
all in a chorus on a summer night in june.


- j.m.d.
jamie Apr 2014
we want to escape
this cold, cruel world
and all that lies within;

the fears, the judging
the hearts we cannot mend.

but how, we ask, how?
how do we get this peace?
and the closest thing to escaping it seems,
is sleep.


- j.m.d.

— The End —