The edge of my soul is unsilenced
by the youthful glove of lust
Curtained wonders and curtailed tales
our songs recited and memorised on saddles
Sandals of certainty , candled yester years

My soles dared to tear a form
eyes roar in beats of a sinful stare
affixed sensations, the aesthetic nightmares
the cyclic eventful roller coaster of want
The padded faded jeans and cotton shirt

A fluent code of the cold wonderland
steers protons and affluent electrical neurons
Exploding zips, complementary zest
The **** ride on your stationed rod
My stallion, a rash, an adrenaline rush, our flight (oh la la)

At the sight of the afterglow stormy taste
our echoes astound the mountain tops
a wave of the heated dream in a cage
The aged flow of the surfacing rivers
As these words live in my mind

Flickering lights inside the synagogue maze
the cleavage fountain evaporating fumes
A showcase of undeniable holes and poles
A glorified truth tied in elastic hearts
Eclipsed as a shadowy armoured reflection

Hold my hand and fly the transient transcendence
Balance as I fall behind on the heighted prolific lines
Rehouse my day on these whispered thoughts
Time circles, time travels, time lost, time found
On this hour of attachment, catch me as I wave

Real Love divinely conquers all things,
which are contrary to His, Holy Spirit.
Nothing is too difficult for The Lord;
He is unrestrained, having no limits!

His desires are righteous; His existence
fuels all of creation to meet His bidding;
though His patience exceeds our perception,
we need to remember that He’s not kidding

about His wanting an everlasting family,
that’s fine-tuned with His sacred tenets.
We’ll inhabit Heaven with His winged angels,
having escaped this blue-marbled planet…

for the remainder of Jehovah’s eternity.
He’s undeniable and one day, we’ll see
Him clothed in majesty and eternal glory!
What a glorious day, that date will be!
.
.
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Author Notes

Inspired by:
1 Cor 6:19; 1 Tim 3:16

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.

Tension builds between their stare,
Unfolded in the un forgotten air,
Of how it feels to taste and touch,
Exploring each other's expressions,
Searching for signs,
Hoping to catch out the others bluff,
Knowing full well it was a ****** love,
Where mere love wasn't enough.

and really, love is the absolute worst, is it not ?

What rarity can acclaim to this elusive title? Where surely
claiming it itself is against its nature.
It might be what our mothers told grubby faced, knee
knocked flecks that dart from graffitied parks
when light turns dark.
Is it in the eye of the beholder, a stubborn piece
of irritating dust? Perhaps those who search
will never be rewarded with a glimpse as
perfection becomes unfathomably further.
Why does the haughty swan rise when the
it squawks more than the pigeon?

Beauty is boxed. It is wrapped in parcels and
swaddled in ribbon until one forgets that it is in the child's
face and not his hands.
Unmeasurable pleasure shouldn't be contained, it roams and commands like a caged tiger. It controls the eye and navigates,
onward soldier. So perhaps it is not rare at all but there
for all customary enough to
anticipate the undeniable.

Becoming

Elegant

Around

Upholding

Trust.

­Indescribable

Fantasy

Undeniably

Lovely.




­Longing

Openness,

Virtuous

Excitement.

inevitable
that I would love; totally
undeniable