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#lush
NATURE OF HEART Dual curved carved crystalline earth pointed plasmic Oneness quantum wave particled allows Heart to heave Heal with white light eagles on Tibetan height nights continuously crafted through storm eyes looping solace sighs whorling whispering Rain tears feed its sizzling stamens pistillate androgyny crying crumbling simultaneously graniting granting access piously Soft supple sublime in rhythmic dance twirls across seaspun song sealed bends baritone bones gliding through skulls of ancestral sacrament Heart curiously examines coral swimming coloured through sockets smiling Silent sacred still holds no longings or exalted expectations observes its own arising gyrations destructions cannot label nor muse or impress empress governors or lover fathoms no fools Only presents primal lingering longings for its own beatings irrepressible expressions lavic lush luminosic explosions of expirations split open exposing slivered voluptuous vulnerability breathing ©GhairoDanielsPoetry &Song2024
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Aug 13, 2025
Aug 13, 2025 at 8:56 AM UTC
Nature of Heart
lush. one of those words, whose sounds conjures but does not onomatopoeia like chirp or oink. the irony is rich for me, in the sunroom, with others, no one speaking and it is a harmonious sound, the quietude, indoors, outdoors, is a good thick, rich and plush, invisible & unbearable, but like soft, spreadable butter, …the quietude is the hush and hug of lush…
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Jul 28, 2025
Jul 28, 2025 at 10:43 AM UTC
Pithy #7: lush
Dusk falls as I lay in your arms, I return to life for your glimpse of warmth upon my form, I listen to your lush voice coming as the waterfall of sound from your lips to my ears, I could not have telled when you arrived from the dark as the cologne of a long lost friend with the scent of celestial tenderness, I invite you to never let me go, for I still carry you as the halycon of my heart.
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Jul 24, 2025
Jul 24, 2025 at 8:25 AM UTC
Halycon Of My Heart
Velvet sunlight in my palm, a golden globe, blushing with the scent of summer. One bite, nectar floods, like monsoon rain, dripping down my chin, hot, sweet, unstoppable. It tastes like July. Like heatwaves resting on your tongue, like skin kissed by dusk. Flesh so tender it trembles, ripe and reckless, honey tangled in citrus silk and firelight. The juice, a soft explosion, a sunbeam melting into flesh, a kiss that lingers. I lick my fingers like a prayer, grateful, greedy, laughing. It’s not food. It’s a spell, a secret, a world inside a fruit. I close my eyes and the taste stays, warm, wild, alive.
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Jun 2, 2025
Jun 2, 2025 at 10:21 AM UTC
Mango Dream
_Step in—_ my mind is an ocean __not blue—__but a bleeding __iridescence__ of _molten violets_, rusted golds, and bruised, unraveling ceruleans— a palette spilled by a god having a dream. You’ll see thoughts float here like __jellyfish lanterns,__ soft, slow—laced in venom or velvet— depending on how you look. The sky never ends in here. It folds like __cracked parchment,__ stretched over the aching arch of my imagination’s bones. There are trees made of __bone-white whispers__ and flowers with _petals like flame-licked lace._ They bloom to the rhythm of my __pulse when I’m panicking,__ and wilt under the weight _of a silence I can’t swallow._ There’s a path— etched in the _ink of dreams I didn’t chase—_ it winds through forests of __regret-shaped branches__ that scratch and __caress all at once.__ If you look to the left— you’ll see a lake _made of every word I’ve never said._ It shimmers, but only under the moon of someone else’s approval. Birds here don’t fly, they unravel. Each feather a __fractured metaphor,__ each call a __dirge sewn with sunlight.__ I hide in corners lit by memory— __a field of crooked constellations,__ each one a version of me you’ll never meet, but will __almost__ understand. If you stay too long, _you’ll forget your name,_ start to speak in echoes, __and dream in static.__ But maybe that’s the point. Maybe that’s the way to really see me.
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Apr 29, 2025
Apr 29, 2025 at 3:26 AM UTC
My Mind’s Eye is an Ocean
I listen to your song everyday Somedays the lyrics are lush Some they are few But your music always Touches
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Apr 20, 2022
Apr 20, 2022 at 9:54 AM UTC
Song
Kisses don't last forever, lipstick scars on my collared shirt; sweet perfumes sinking into my neck. Searching for a rush, there's a rush out there looking for me. Let me play my tongue on you; just like I love to play with my words. Lust of rush; my eye on a crush, She's a crushing feeling; as when my cheek bones hurt every time I blush. Plush; so richly filled and lush. Could I love you as a must; But a piece of you is far too much. Do you... Indulge in all of those senses; As my sense of appeal is to be the one who stole your heart. I'm much made of steel; heavy weighed inside of my pants. But why be quick in our advances; let's have a little romance. Pick out our cards at every chance. I'll play your King, with just few plays with my hands. A squeeze; you feel the weakness on your knees, each time I wrap around your neck. And proceed into those long kisses that steal your breath. Bite you down like an enemy; be tender to all of those marks like a friend. But I'd soon forget, of which of us gets naked first; before pulling the covers of the bed. I'm sitting on the edge; grinning at a striptease doing in my head. I can't pretend, that my skins aren't hair raising; lips craving, body shaking, and I'm embracing the embrace of me driving my destination inside of your place. But these are the thoughts on the road: of what's about to come. I'm still on the way.
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Apr 16, 2022
Apr 16, 2022 at 2:15 PM UTC
Sensual Verse (On the way)
Rejection, it is painful! I lauch myself at the idea of hope, I throw myself into the notion of happiness, I jump head first into something that could be, Each and every time all I recieve is REJECTION The steady reminder that I am not wanted, The sharp feeling of not being choosen, The constant pain of being unworthy, Unworthy of being loved, of being the person that is picked Being someone that is seen as being desirable, wanting to jump head first with me into something that could be, But rejection, the reminder that what could be is indeed nothing more than a mere fleeting feeling.
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Jul 19, 2021
Jul 19, 2021 at 3:16 PM UTC
Rejection
the lushness of the land the ruggedness of the rocks pictures can capture everyone's view of perfection. but have you sat on a cheap beach chair, with sand in your toes and curly hair, across your sunburned face? subtly smiling at the distant crash of waves, or listening to the live music that sounds like the band "summer salt?" lava lava beach club with cats wandering around the island just as your heart wanders around the lovely memories that you count one by one to taste their delicious ideas and finally, finally feel.
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Jun 22, 2019
Jun 22, 2019 at 1:15 PM UTC
hawaii
At forty-four years old you’re as graceful as a palm tree; Grapes, with their lushness, have nothing on your lush body; A thousand faces light up at the sight of your smile; Roses for smell, apples for taste, and your touch Brings warmth. The cosmic rays are dim and lifeless But the colors in your eyes are bright and alive. Your neck is like Trajan’s victory column, long, Elegant and beautiful with the carvings around it Mona Lisa is pleasing to the eyes, yet mine long For the viral grace of your ***** and mature curves; Diamonds with all their glory are not as tempting as you, with your gray, enchanting hair and laughter lines. My love is round and plump at four and forty Years old, with ******* that refuse to sag with age.
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May 21, 2019
May 21, 2019 at 2:28 PM UTC
Graceful at forty-four years old
****** is Meat’; The Victorious Say as the Spoilings of War are tilled over in a Latrine Gore-Flowers shall overthrow and the next Eden Project is fed : a Beacon for The Lovers to uncover ....and disregard     ungratfully fertile
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Apr 18, 2019
Apr 18, 2019 at 11:02 PM UTC
lush
Organic matter dissipates to ash saliva shrubs sacred branches softly sear before they collectively crash Dense haze escapes into the atmosphere Smog blankets the saturated earth below Macro level clearing ritual Extinguish dismal flow Desire to rid, but crude tendency is habitual swoosh Create space in the cloud banks Burn that which must disintegrate Rise & fall, cycles continue, give thanks Awe invoking beauty, to make the eyes dilate
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Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 6:12 PM UTC
In the valley
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 50 BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem Wisely allow my gentle soul to flow, Like a flowy river in the lush forest, Peacefully allow to flow until; It fulfils his divine destiny! It may flow gently through, Several terrible curves or It may; Subtly shift several desired directions. Some day roughs, sometime smooth, Peacefully allow him to flow until; It fulfils his divine destiny! Allah Khair….. Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem Ummah Thurab – Badshah Khan. ©UT-BK 2019
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Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 5:18 AM UTC
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 50
Half drowned in those wine dark eyes drunk off those fermented words that trickle off those lush rose lips Calypso or Scylla, I know not it doesn't even matter as long as I am with you
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Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 11:20 PM UTC
Drowned Drunk
Lush is the quietude of the late Saturday afternoon, rich are the silencing sounds, as variegated as the shades of greens of a man-seeded, nature-patchworked lawn rays reveal some bright, some yellowed spots, all a potent color palette resting worry wearied eyes, untroubled by the gentle fading light's illumination, that soon will disappear and seal officially, another week gone by the lawn, acting as an ceiling acoustic tile, absorbing and reflecting the varied din of disharmonious natural sounds orchestrated, an ever present reminder      that true quiet is not the absence of noise I hear the chill in the air, insects debating vociferously their Saturday evening plans, the waves broom-swishing beach debris, pretending to be young parents putting away the children's toys for the eve the birds speak in Babel multitudes of tongues, chirps, whistles, clicks and clacks, then going strangely silent as if all were praying collectively the afternoon sabbath service, with an intensity of the silent devotion this moment, i cannot well enough communicate, this trump of light absolutes, and animal maybes, that are visually and aurally presented  in a living surround sound screen, Dolby, of course, all a plot of ease and gentility, in toto, sweet serenity here to cease, no more tinkering, leave well enough, plenty well enough
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Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 10:39 AM UTC
Lush is the quietude of the late Saturday afternoon
*consciously, willfully, I wish it quietly the Sunday, the sun day, drifts toward, in its natural game, set, overmatched, the foregone conclusion, nightfall diminishment the water songfully swishes, as the tide departs for places unknown, this then, now the only natural authorized aural apparition, the power boats renounce their normal noisy conditioning, honoring their silenced, under-sail brethren, as well as admitting their noises disfigure the fast approaching majesty of the end of our summer seasoning of humanity consciously, willfully, I wish it once again, lush is the quietude,^ now given up, surrendered and surceased to wonder, how come I to write of these moments so oft, thenever-ending quest to re-inscribe it on my sensibilities, in vainglorious hopes that this stamping will last, be the last, see me through the turgid frigidity of my Lucifer life, come the fall, the winter, the early dark, the daylight's brevity, the hurricane season of the mind, that...need I say more? consciously, willfully, I wish it the particular white cloud formation of the moment at hand, shall stay in place,  be the capstone of my summer living vision, become permanent part and parcel of the sclera, the white of my eyes, and when I will write, soon enough, my vision white weeping clouded, you will weep knowingly, sympathetically consciously, willfully, I wish for that as well* 8/27/17 6:35pm
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Aug 29, 2017
Aug 29, 2017 at 10:38 AM UTC
the lush peace and quiet of volition, on a Sunday afternoon
Lush tree sways in wind, Sun ☀️ sends cryptograms through it; I am in their plot!
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Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 10:40 PM UTC
Cosmic script
She enchanted me with a single kiss. Never to untangle me, as such, leaving me alone, in rendering soft moments, self-producing romance. Yearnings given when reading poetry and conscious of hearing the world’s noises as love songs.
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Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 2:37 AM UTC
HER
I shred the beets. Heads of red flicks in the bowl parged of white now rosé, blushes. To say the word properly is to nestle the tongue in the church of the mouth the nave of clucks tucked under the roof of the palate to squeeze conjoined shushes and birch noises. To steam to steep with the lazy roil of the soup. Do you recall the crunch of the snow outside our dacha? The days where ice coated crusts cut galoshes sloshed. The tureen beckons with its fractures. To predict the future merely gaze into the soup. How is this to see a winter of bread and shavings of fibers sewn rough of tough, tough coughs that spray rose petals in the dawn?
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Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 6:57 AM UTC
Borscht Belt
a long break what it may seem maybe i might go to the lake or plan a  surprise scheme sweet sunlight rays '76 cars blasting from the radio speaker rhythmic glowing days this summer sure is a keeper
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Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 8:18 PM UTC
enlightened time
fractured limbs/fragile lugs/soft-skinned dreams/sweet slow dances loving you is like spilling gold out of my veins, like rose hips soft and shivering under warm fingertips. being yours is you being mine, but always reaching for you to be more. in my stomach are glistening oceans, and my swallowed pride the size of vicodin pills. a small town girl's high on love and laying in her bed. lilting laughter/lovely lights/revival of language & direction/return of lucid daydreams you are my first thought when i wake, and my last when i fall asleep. i'm so very in love with you. the more days i spend being your girl, the more i want to be with you. i always want to be where you are. my head on your shoulder, you rest your head on top of mine. we're holding hands, and it's like we fold into each other like russian dolls. comfortable skin/crushed sapphire/lovers blessed/lush bones
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Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 2:17 PM UTC
by your side
You're light and bubbly, intoxicating. I drink you in, and it goes straight to my head. Inhaling your breath I'm higher than the mountains I would climb to get my fix of you. Your side of the bed hasn't even cooled and I need more of you, just one more kiss, one more minute. Just. One. More.
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Apr 26, 2017
Apr 26, 2017 at 2:39 PM UTC
Lush