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M Vogel 6d

He did not go far. How could he;
you were his everything.......

You love the concept of Parallel worlds..
his is now intangible--
no skin-clad temple to hold him down  
within the misgivings
and falleness, that entails
all things fleshbound--
his illustrious spirit,  now encased  within
the utter boundlessness  of his
newly-dedicated housing of Prismatic Light.
This is now the new temple that contains
his eternal spirit..   and it is from
that impeccably-beautiful place,
that he now offers hope  
and petition without end..  on your behalf.
Face to Face, now..  his once,
deeply-aching spirit,  now finds
the perpetual Peace..  through true Resolve,
as he finds his neverending Encouragements,
now heading your way,  on the Wings of
what is now, no less than that of Unlimited Possibility--
Raining down on to you..
Reigning now in the Heavenlies,  
no longer diluted and misdirected by human agenda

And here you sit, beautiful girl..  not seeing or feeling,
because you are still subject to the same  auspices
of falleness that eventually found its Unholy fruition
within his utter demise. No longer subject to it all,
he is asking you to rise above it, also..
the prayers of a newly-recognized Saint--  petitioning
directly in to Love's very Ache..   asking
that the horror-built walls,   embedded
into your war-torn flesh  would come down,
no longer so devastatingly-thwarting  Love's deep
desire  to finally have the chance to  find
its beautiful  way into you..
Yet your out of control self-hatred  is hurting him--
almost as much as it is truly  hurting you.
The last thing your guilt-ridden spirit wants to  do
is cause him any more pain.  Feel his loving presence..
and you will also then begin to feel his deeply-Loving petition.
It is perfect.. as are you--  once  you become separated
from your hook-embedded flesh.
He is There..
helping you to become able to have access to it,

That is where he is at.. that is what he is doing.
The Grace that he now so deeply embraces on your behalf,  will
slowly begin to buy you the internal freedom  that is necessary
to begin to become able to feel it all.  Throughout the years,
you have learned how to begin to believe.  If not,
you would have already blocked me again by now.
He is within the Realms of Magic, now.   You love Magic.
Feel him there.. as he truly now is..  and you will  begin
to learn,  through feel-- the things  in you
(that you so adamantly hold on to),
that are still hurting him.  Forgiveness..
from his Mercy Seat towards you.. is perpetual, and without end,
because he knows that you do not as of yet,  fully understand.
One day, you will.. and it will become to him, his greatest Joy.
It is not over. It is never over.. as long as that gorgeous,
war-torn heart still has a pulse in it.
Make sure that it will,  until you can feel..
and the Morning Sun will truly rise within you..  fully anew.  
Fully. Completely. Perpetually.
You will become the very glow  
that he already right now, sees in you.
You Love me just as much as you hate me.
Love's reason is here-- right here in these words.  You know
that it is all true. His spirit was far too beautiful  for the
pain-infused fleshtemple that previously contained it..
while he was here.  He left it for a better one..
one that is completely and fully, Perfect.
You can feel him far more often than your pain-wracked
heart and spirit will allow you to currently admit.
Perspective is everything, beautiful girl.
You love me for the glorious perspective that I am  able
to bring to you.
That is the only way that I want to be loved.
You  have been through enough.  
Lets get you two back together, through your  growing
ability to become able to see him..
and feel him...  as he is--
not as your obscure.. self-contempt, scarred view,
now only shadow-sees  him.  

You have work to do, beauty.
You are his exceedingly, Worthy Beloved.
There is so much,   so unfairly-attached to you..
that keeps you feeling  as if you are forever unworthy.

     He is 24/7 helping you.

That is what he does now..
and I can very much see why <3

Oh no, love.. you're not alone..
You're watching yourself..  but you're too unfair
You got your head all tangled up,
but if I could only make you care
Oh no, love..  You're not alone

No matter what or who you've been
no matter when,  or where you've seen..

   all the knives seem to lacerate your brain

I've had my share,  now I'll help you with the pain
You're not alone   xoxo
~Z Stardust
Nov 5 · 596
In death.. as in Life
M Vogel Nov 5

There is a love, deeply embedded  into

fear's reverence.. and what we fear most,
is the threat of annihilation..  yet,  is not
that, which is within the deep hooks  of
annihilation's looming leer, that which
is also the very seeds sown-- giving way
to the very firstfruits of Life-Anew..
within itself?
So then, is not death's very fear,  
in itself,  a conceding to the inevitability
of Love's unfolding conquer?
The condemnation-shadow, so unfairly
placed into you,  at such a tender
young age, has run amok for so many
unrestrained years  within your beautiful
spirit, and body..  is no longer
an end-all..
or catch-all,
But is now, but a spring-board;   albeit,
fear-driven.. into that (finally, Beautiful-one)
which brings Life.. directly out of death--
Not with the annihilation  of the very  Death..
(which gave you Magic) but through its own,
very power to draw us towards Love,
through its own, very fear (respect)  of that Love..
does not then, death.. through Love,  become upheld?
So how then can the condemnation within you, be bad
except that it be allowed to,  for life.. keep you
hidden in shadow? Is not then  Love's Light, the
very thing that creates Shadow's, shadow, therefore
exposing Shadow's nature by bringing forth,
its own shadow..  leaving the vulnerable rawness of
condemnation, exposed..
Hence, the horrendous sting of Love's truth.. yet also,
through the Faith-increasing training of experience  alone,
is the strengthening into resilience  the beautiful, war-torn
Spirit  that has become able to begin  to finally.. take in, Love.
This is where you are now at, beautiful girl. While under
condemnation's death-hold, you have hated me for so long
that the love.. mixed with fear.. became its own  natural
concession into Life, itself-- giving way to the Magical
falling-off  of the scales that have covered those beautiful
eyes of yours for so long

Bring your Death, beautiful-one. Through your Faith,  it is
established..  and then made, Complete. The giftedness, borne
from the deep, catacombs of Death's Unholy Hold, come forth
in fullness.. into fruition.. as you pass from Death, into Life--
right here.. in the land of the Living.
The Death you have known, does not fall off at the gate
as you pass through it.. but instead, through the newness
of your beautiful eye's, Life View..  Death's previous Unholiness
  becomes instantly, Holy.
I am in love with the death that is in you. From its hold,
were born every Magical gift that I love so much, in you..
and  while in your presence..  will forever
take my breath away.

Welcome to my life, Beautiful one.
Oct 18 · 991
M Vogel Oct 18

In time..

You will learn to forgive yourself..
for  all  the reasons  why
  you think you need
  to forgive yourself.

The blame,  and shame
placed in to you
was done  in the most  
horrendously unfair way..
when you were  at  such a
and impressionable age.

It  was  your  v u l n e r a b i l i ty
that was so horribly cashed in on.
The greatest horror of all
was the shame and blame
that you were forced  to carry..

as if it was your own doing..

   It    Was    Not.

No masters or kings
when the ritual begins
There is no sweeter innocence
than our gentle sin
In the madness and soil
of that sad, earthly scene..

Only then I am human,
Only then I am clean..
Oh..  oh Amen,

Amen..  Amen.

Take me to church,
I'll worship like a dog
at the shrine of your lies
I'll tell you my sins
and you can sharpen your knife
Offer me that deathless death

Good God, let me give you my life

xo xo
Oct 4 · 562
the touch
M Vogel Oct 4

Drawn out from within,
the heart wants  what it wants
and loves, what it loves

Deep,  calls to deep..
a little boy  only knows
the word,  feel

There is a light
that transcends the dark
through touch

When pages, become  lit--
a lonely-flame's  only spark
A touch

a touch..

--thank you..  so very much.
Sep 27 · 344
M Vogel Sep 27

.. will it scale?

Can its brick and mortar  ramparts
be penetrated?  

Probably not.

Now, lifted up;  
pinned  up against it
there is a *******
that will break through

Within the wall's crumble
there is a rebirth..

A Heavenly emancipation--
and the most beautiful  of flows

let freedom ring
Sep 20 · 1.0k
the cloud of unknowing
M Vogel Sep 20

that  as of yet, have been named
Places  that have not  yet
been mapped

There is a spirit that you  want
to keep close
(but say one word to it
and it flees)

There is a light  that warms the skin
      down to the heart's very nucleus

Say hello to it
and watch it go into denial
of its deep love for you
of its deep love for Love

   Reach for it
   and watch it dissipate.

Slide back in to your own world
and watch it weep

   Believe  in it
   and watch it glow

Aug 15 · 1.2k
mechanization song
M Vogel Aug 15

You are in there,  I am certain of it--
Behind the gear's finely-honed,
precision fit..  gear
in to gear
in to gear

into gear..
And I wonder..  do you want out?
The machine  on the outside, self-repairs
Any attempt towards dismantle  from
the external,  is futile..
But the internal,  beautiful girl..

"I don't know what you mean, about 'machine'"
She is apprehensive, those beautiful
brown eyes,  looking up at me..
"Look down, sweet girl"
Her thighs, fully parted,  as I slide
in to her.. those amazing hips,
moving so perfectly with mine,  extracting..

Milking from me, my warm  pulsing *****--
a deeply-penetrating lubricant,  pulsed
deeply into the machine
As if to lubricate its gears..
As if..

But penetrating so deeply, as to now
permeate the insides  of the
mechanization's innerworkings--
turning from lubricant, to that
of a corrosive nature..
Fully coating now, the inner you..

as it turns back now, into that
of a healing balm
Bringing to you  a moment of Light  
  and internal clarity--  
long enough for you to see

That the machine  is made vulnerable
by the ever-changing qualities  of
Love that found its way through
As the awakened parts within you, for the
first time.. understand
the machine's love-blocking, nature

And you begin to choose, mid-******
the machine's dismantle,  from the inside--

'Little by little..

Line, upon line..

Block, upon block..

Precept, upon precept..'

Until we have the chance,  once again..
to do it all again
the power of christ compels
Jul 18 · 2.1k
M Vogel Jul 18

Insane, jealous wives..
controlling ones
They are everywhere
or at least  they are,
with the men she knows..

So she comforts them
in their affliction,
in a cherub-like  way--
these poor men,

with their  insane,
controlling  girlfriends  and

crazy, jealous women
that refuse to allow  their men
to talk to her
or be alone in a room, with her

It seems as though  
the world is filled  with
insane,   controlling
jealous women--

at least,  in the lives
of the men  she knows,
there is.

taught  well
at such a tender young age.

the problem is always elsewhere
Jul 5 · 770
M Vogel Jul 5

With a twinge of internal dissension
I realized that I had  all along
been ******* nothing else,  but air.

This made  me--  a dedicated loner..
smile, profoundly.

I chased myself around the room..
playing,  hard to get..
But me
with me
will always  be gotten.

I  got  that, my loves
..get that?

Jun 27 · 2.0k
Ingredieris possidendam
M Vogel Jun 27

To inhabit the space  within
oneself,  to such a degree
that the skin, thins itself out

in order to leave  room
for that which is  to occupy--

An indwelling  
of self,  to such a degree
as to stretch the skin
to full capacity..

leaving no room  for ambiguity--

All cells and atoms, within
now  fully occupied,

   fully inhabited

   by the most beautiful  
   form of indwelling  of all--

   That,  of the self.

She is ghosting me
I ask her why
She says, "Because you're so big."
I don't know what that means
"Whenever you come in,
you fill the room..
there is nowhere for me to go
no shadows for me to hide in
You walk in and they all go away."

Ok.. so why ghost me?

"My silence is the only thing
I have left  to hide in."

In my love for you, my beautiful
that is the service I provide.

.   .   .  
Access into fullness, comes only
by facing the pain--
it is suffered, into.
Grace   buys us time
for to become  able
to  take  Love  in.
Truth  is the green
umbrella-like canopy-covering
that makes possible, growth..
for  all  jungle inhabitants.
Apr 23 · 703
the sacrificial one
M Vogel Apr 23

She bleeds through the
ends of her fingers, as she cries--
   she dies inside
   as she relives the horrors

   and re-suffers the blows;
   down on to the paper
   it all goes

her shattered-heart knows,
and her tear-stained face shows
that this is how she will reach
those, all alone;  

so, with trauma-scarred hands-
and blood-stained-red bones, creates
the much needed seed to be sown

   and down on to the paper
   it all goes

she is bleeding out, all alone
but her face  has a glow
M Vogel Apr 12

This place. I don't know.
so many people / want to block..
  their words--
they climb all over me.
one's in particular:

Heart-expressed words bringing down
the healing light of relationship to the parts of me
who up until now
have known little or no relationship of its kind;

      and there is conflict within me  as I fight it..
    years the locusts have eaten; and the opportunity of restoration;
      often squandered. in vanity.

none of that mattered much;
                                 until now--

When the unredeemed heart-parts of myself
reveal to me their dormancy:    left detached
from community  with one another--
  an internal community   necessary
  to withstand  the brilliant light    and glory
  brought down by those here who write as she does.

          but she;

    through her unfiltered heart-writes
    brings down the very magic and beauty and fullness of the
    relational dance of the godhead.

     And it's raw beauty is ****** slayin me.
I so want to block her  for the conflict she creates    in me  
      but I will  press on

and allow her supremely-smithed words--
(words not even written to me)
to have their beautiful way,


and through..
the help that has been all around me;
(each and every one of us)
             all along

   --as  if they were cleaning my soul,
      re-integrating my fragmented, heart-parts.

I'm the innocent bystander..
Somehow,  I got stuck
between a rock and a hard place
And I'm down on my luck
Yes..  I'm down on my luck

--And I'm hiding in Honduras:
I'm a desperate man
Send lawyers guns and money
the **** has hit the fan

~The eternally beautiful, Warren Z
Apr 8 · 367
M Vogel Apr 8

--And you will not go
you will not fall
Within you  are the thoughts
that will lead
to your untimely leaving

if you listen to it all
you will lose
And the whole world
will lose, along  with you

Please don't leave
Please, sweet love..
If for no one else

then please stay  for me

In your pretty little head
is the death
that was never
meant to be yours
ah, love.. can't  you see
there is a renewal
within the breath
of  all  who are finally
able to let love in.

That head of yours,
my sweet one
It will tell you  
every-where  to go--

  every where,  
  but to me.

I know those messages
spoken, also..

So clear and so loud--
in its mist of distance
its concealing cloud,
the fog that makes it all
seem so very very real

But what of the real
within this feel,  within me

That tells me of your worth
and the tremendous value
that lies within the rarity
of all there is that is you..

In your head, you are ugly
In mine,
you are my  so very..
Will I ever  be able
to get you to see
what a departure like that
will do to me?

Within your own self view
is that oh so horrible 

           undoing of you
How very real  it feels..
this,  which was so very unfairly
placed in to you
This..  which now  only wants
to see you dead

Such a very beautiful
pretty, little head

And you--
my so very,



in our heads, we are dying

:(  <3
Mar 2 · 668
M Vogel Mar 2

If it ever becomes too much,
come and find me--

I'll be over here:
in the grass-covered prairielands--   waiting..  

like the catcher in the rye.

Never fully lost,
it only nearly always
feels that way..
but always,  within you
is your flesh-wrapped needle

forever pointing that
war-torn  heart of yours
towards  True  North
Feb 28 · 332
M Vogel Feb 28
D Vanlandingham

..turn on,
and faucets.. they turn off
but the fear of the lord
remains forever.

  The reality-shifts within
your ever-controlling  need
to define,  change nothing

  or maybe it does--

  "Hot, into cold;
and now white, into black
what was once good, now
becomes  'bad'" --

   Life..  into that,  of  (non.)
Your need for me to now be
those things,  has caused

      that very end,  indeed.

.. and now I am become, death
the destroyer of worlds--

have a nice day xo
Feb 14 · 608
M Vogel Feb 14
-- it is a process, girl.
Sometimes the path's journey can at times  feel
as anything but of that which is in a direction
towards the light,
but with the right heart and mindset,  that
form of movement is it's own kind of overcoming, also.
You have a tendency of embedding into your written words,
messages and pictures (of pictures) that are so very easy
to both see  and feel,

    for those of us that truly do want to see
    and feel your world as it truly is,

rather than what we may need or think it should be.

You want to be seen, my friend..
but not necessarily  by the everyday, mundane kind of eyes.
I often get a strong sense from you that you want
(almost more than anything)
to know,  first hand  that someone cares enough
to actually want to read into your messages  the deep pleas
of yours for an accurate understanding
(or at least the desire to)
of just how bad it truly is for you (and those such as yourself)..
along with your embedded pleas and deep longings
for grace
and mercy..
and for a deep tenderness,  wrapped
within an immeasurable strength rarely seen in this world.
  And ah, babe.. I love the fact that in your gorgeousness,  you
have a wonderful form  of knowing,  
    and understanding
that there is a tremendously deep beauty within you

   that is so very worth saving..  
   so very worth fighting for--

so tremendously worth  every moment of pain  and hard work,
the often difficult extraction process most very likely may entail.

You also know.. deep within that wonderfully,  juice-laden
body of yours..  that because of the depths of magical beauty
that lies encased-- wholly within your spirit's temple-skin,
just the thought of the nearly overwhelming amounts of warmth
that would permeate all parts of you,
touched within the precious gold's beautiful extraction-process,
the intensity of ******* you would experience   within
the loving movement of it all would be   completely

and fully

off the charts..   no doubt about it.
(but hey.. you already know that, my friend..)  (:

Never, ever give up believing in the beautiful  and magical  
power  of healing that comes from the Wellspring's flow.
Every single part of that sweet,  nectar-filled body of yours,
aches to its core in hope that you never,  never let go
of that wonderful,  life affirming view
of the well's true, deeply loving nature.

You are at times quite frustrating.. but then again,
I am easily frustrated in this world.

I will never not believe in you, kid..  
N e v e r  <3 xo

Feb 8 · 686
M Vogel Feb 8

I have seen her--
a beautiful author of fine
heart-matters..  she catches
words out of thin air--  and
in reaching out her hand;

they,  with great zeal
slow down for her.

When she makes them  
 her own
they gladly  give up
their semantic-like  little

Like me, they
trust her heart with

  even their own  

And like me also,
they feel safe
when they are
near her.

Feb 4 · 528
M Vogel Feb 4
D Vanlandingham

I have gotten to the place
where I hate most everything
Except for the deep, raw truth

      of true brokenness.

And the love that I feel
for those  left so alone
undoes the twist of my hatred,

Bringing a warmth  that
keeps me alive, in my deep longing
to be with beautiful spirits,


i love you
Jan 31 · 657
shiny, happy, faces
M Vogel Jan 31

I hold my hands in front of me--  staring
at the back of them.  As I slowly turn my
palms to face me, one little spirit  appears
above the fingertips  of each hand--

        turning,  as I turn my hands.

Palms facing me.. I feel them  as strongly
as I feel me. They are with me--  in me.
Turning towards the door in order to
head off to work,  the fade begins.

On the other side of the door is the lie.

Shiny-happy faces..  smiling; waving--
concealing generations of ****** death
in this little one horse town.    

                                            Truth--   ­    there

     smiles....     here.

        in intentionaly-ingrained  absence of clarity--
                               all is well.

                          A smile.   wave.

                                   .      .
              Little birds,  behind the curtain
         no longer  even knowing  for certain
        who that man was that was their daddy

                           the lie is strong.

              Each little bird  looks at the back
                    of their little-bird hand,
        and as they slowly turn, daddy appears--
         holographic-form,  turning to face them
         as their little-bird palms, become known.

             They feel me as strongly as they  feel
                Daddy is with them--  in them.
          They lower their hands,  and the lie sets in..
 Shiny, happy faces are telling them.  Smiling.  waving

                     Little birds--  lost in words..

                                 spoken from
                         shiny    happy    faces.

                              Everyone waves
                in this  little   one   horse   town.

Jan 30 · 452
what if
M Vogel Jan 30
Selmhem Naise

What would you do  
if you knew there was a light source   whose
very nature  could illuminate the back
sides of molecules and atoms;  as if
the source did not come from its point of origin
but instead--  permeated all-throughout  
    from all sides at once..  in all directions--
    at the same time;  simultaneously..

    yet also perpetually

..and if so-- where could one hide  from the
knowing-ability  of light of this nature
that chooses to have "known-ability".

What if
by chance,  in life here on earth
we are given the dignity to choose,  through
autonomy.. the freedom to hide--
the power to place, even if through illusion;
and create shadow from a light, that knows no shadow.

What if,  the nature of love  that is also light
chooses  through muse, as one of its loving ways,
to pierce through obstacle  created
by autonomy's oftentimes, need to hide-

What if.

Wouldn't that then be an act of kindness..
and also a beautiful act of honor  towards autonomy
to not force its way in through power
but instead.. coax,  through heart-persuasion?

..And that much more a gift  muse would be
if one were to know  that at the end  of life
would be the complete and full removal  of obstacle
      in order  to know  
   and be fully known?

Without loving acts such as muse
what would be "knowable"  within us
if obstacle were never penetrated,  

in the land of the living?

What if.

M Vogel Jan 26

just this side   of succumbing
there is a  saving-grace
within the fine art
   of numbing..
is the gain  worth
the loss--

a soul,  meant to be alive..

    now  grown over--
    now, covered in moss?

Within the succumbing
I become saved
from the annihilation  
of the soul
In its attempt  to survive
in a world, hell-bent
on stealing it.

Can I get  me
back, to me
before it is  all
too late?
There is a poe
at the gate--
Oh my dear Paul..

don't wait,
don't wait..

don't wait.

:( xo
M Vogel Jan 21
Selmhem Naise

I was so much older than you, but not enough to where
we couldn't be in the same school at the same time.
I watched you grow up throughout the years,  
and you attracted my attention in a way
that I have yet to find words to describe.

The first time I saw you, you were with your friends
stopping in the park on the way to school-
swinging on the swings,  even though you had
long outgrown that stage. It didn't matter to you
because at home you still had Barbie dolls that
you played with. You didn't care what people thought,

you just did what you did because it made sense to you.

As you got older, so did I and I grew in stature, yet
would still look towards you where you were at,  four
grades younger than me. I was tall, muscular, tanned,
long blonde surfer hair. You were a freshman and always
hung around with that messy looking nerdy-type kid
who had tape on the edge of his goofy looking horn rim
glasses. An upper class **** started ridiculing him,
and you jumped up off the bench  and literally climbed
up on his back and started punching him in the head
as he was spinning to try to grab you off of him.

I was close enough to run to the commotion, and told him
that if he laid a hand on you I was going to knock him cold.

Do you remember me grabbing hold of you
and lifting you off his back  and setting your feet
back on the ground?

   I looked you right in the eyes..
   and it was at that moment that you saw
   what I had carried of you for so long.

   You were still just a little girl at heart  and in body.

The end of that year I graduated and moved away.
I went on to marriage and family, work stuff..  everyday things.
When much of that crumbled, I found myself here;

   and there you were again..

I have loved you for nearly all your life, little scrapper
it has been well worth the wait.

.. and now my Valerie's a woman.

all of these years and years  xo
M Vogel Jan 17
M Vogel  Feb 16
(from his precarious, now defunct pre-timout file vault..)

Dear greatly valued HP supporter, M Vogel~

"Everyone on the planet's profile is not visible because
they have all blocked you."

(and Suzy's still in timeout, so now you're really ******.)



. . .
Written by
M Vogel  ya- strange, odd, unusual,
segregated from the normies
1 like

1 comment
Feb 16

D Vanlandingham:    I think you greatly underestimate the world's capacity to ascertain all the reasonings as to why a dangerous ******* like you should be quarantined from society. It just seems fitting that in both of your links posted on your crybaby-poetry piece here, that your life's story would be tied in to that of Peewee Herman's. And while we're on the subject-- that gorgeous little Dottie was such a **** little **** that should now be with me, not you.

You never deserved that sweet girl's love, you pathetic *******.

(I know, I know.. false accounts are supposed to be created solely to stroke and build up their deceptive creator, but you don't even deserve that, you uncontrollably bipolar ****.)

1 reply
Feb 16

M Vogel:    *******. If I could just get you to ****.. even for 5 minutes...

**** me if I'm wrong
but I think you want to **** me

Jan 17 · 207
Account suspended xox
M Vogel Jan 17
Feb 27

"Dear, complete and total *******, M Vogel:

Your account will be back to normal on Oct 27.

Because our moderators have reviewed and agreed with the members' concerns about your work, this suspension cannot be reconsidered.

Please read FAQs for more information..

Why did this happen?
'on ****, love.. and helping my cute as **** stepsister become relational.' was removed for 'Inappropriate/Obscene'
Jan 18

'on ****, love.. and helping my cute as **** stepsister become relational.' was removed for 'Inappropriate/Obscene'
Jan 18

'on ****, love.. and helping the cute as **** daughter of the woman who likes my father, become relational. (rethemotherfuck,post) [and ex(themotherofthefuck)splicit]' was removed for 'Inappropriate/Obscene'
52 seconds ago

'on ****, love.. and helping the cute as **** daughter of the woman who likes my father, become relational. (rethemotherfuck,post) [and ex(themotherofthefuck)splicit]' was removed for 'Inappropriate/Obscene'
52 seconds ago

'on ****, love.. and helping my cute as **** stepsister become relational. (rethemotherfuck,post)' was removed for 'Inappropriate/Obscene'
45 seconds ago

'on ****, love.. and helping my cute as **** stepsister become relational. (rethemotherfuck,post)' was removed for 'Inappropriate/Obscene'
45 seconds ago

Please try to get in line with the quality and moral character of all our other writers on the site, or kindly ****."

HP Moderation
(site de-scumbagging division)

~M Vogel

I created this for children;; Children... understand?"


whats all this dir--...
M Vogel Jan 16

I have been writing
   about you
almost since my
very first-ever   poem

It was your spirit  I
could feel--
   even  when I was  wholly
unable  to feel

You are  a b ra isi v e
in the most  t e n d e r e s t
  of ways
    my little scrapper

And I have  pulled you
  t o w a r d s   me
a  thousand  different  days

(yet, I have never touched you)

Little scrapper,  you are
  a d m i r e d
from afar
      by me--
the one who has been
    watching you--
all these years

Look up, beautiful-one
turn your face
      to  me
          and see that I am
                                     still here--
wanting just to  touch
the side of  yours
with *******

          just a touch

silly spilly--
I am right here..
   lookin   at you-  tenderly

              even after all this time

a story..
Jan 13 · 206
M Vogel Jan 13
D Vanlandingham

My hands..
gently around her throat
as she momentarily
slips away, from the pain--
her beautiful doe-eyes, a full
submittal of trust..
(and I am worthy of it all..
so very very worthy, my beautiful)
and deep within  her release

she takes love in
she takes it in

There is a rope in the garage
that has her name on it
the bannister at the top of the stairs
(so very, very unworthy)
to provide support
for her beautiful body
that  now, only wants
to no longer  have to carry the pain
The rope does not  carry within it
the warm-blooded pulsings
of my own, heart's love--

  (it does not feel your trust,
   at the moment  of release..)

but    like me,
it has no concept of how to let go..
my hands--  they release
at the moment  of your own..
the tears in your eyes, say it all to me--
that you don't want me to  ever
learn how to let go.
The rope,  being pain's release
in to the final

Mine, a never-letting-go
into  the  forever

my hands  they ease their grip
but my heart--

      no   not,  ever.

Jan 11 · 188
Fix this--
M Vogel Jan 11
A heart  
that just wants
to be what it is..
without edit  needed,
to avoid punishment
or worse yet,
counterfeit imitation

So why not we
stoke up
the gaslight  flame
and color it all, empty
or count it all
to that of self gain
nullifying the good
down to that  of
everyday, commonplace
or that  of an every day

every single bit of this,
God bless us, everyone
Jan 7 · 336
M Vogel Jan 7

They take into themselves,  living water
from the vine strip that love brought to them  from
the canopy's Gathering--
from the passing storm of the lair, in Stratus

And behold, they are unafraid,  
     these thirsty-ones--

these cohesively-vibrating, pre-feathered cygnets
these illustrious,  winged smolts-- 

              ­              ocean spawned.

Their wings: give flight?    No, not quite;
(though for an eternity  they have flown.)

And ever since love,   its been known
ever evolving,   they are..

         yet never  fully grown--

The Living water
keeps them stretching,   reaching..
yearning,  for  a  wind

        that will give their hearts a home,

yearning,  these thirsty ones..
these most excellent, excellent birds..

I see pictures of people
I see pictures of people

Jan 7 · 235
M Vogel Jan 7
Those beautiful eyes--
they wont stop looking at me
and they never stop  believing in me

I swear to Christ, I ******* hate her
My contempt-filled, trauma-built fortress of distrust  
is systematically becoming  dismantled

                        raw;­  pure--   love,  
      is such a sneaky little ******.

And its unfettered, magical-wizardry  is now
putting my central core at risk--
     the fear of annihilation
     is one truly ****** up hell
     a ******* horror  beyond all horrors.

She is still looking at me with
               that love  in her eyes.

                Now I really hate her.

In your eyes
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
the resolution of all the fruitless searches

In your eyes
I see the light, and the heat
In your eyes
I want to be that complete:
I want to touch the light,
the heat I see in your eyes

In your eyes
a celebration into freedom
M Vogel Jan 4

A tangibility of thought
the cost of loss(ed)--
fought, then bought;

the   p a s s i o n   beyond


A tap in to
the forever
everything said--  bread fed.
Crumbs, that come  from
the drum.. the strum

of a million distant
none to succumb

to the emptiness

the meaninglessness

of words from the numb--
the pathologically-saturated
mundane numb

Overcome, my love


Sky of blackness and sorrow
Sky of love, sky of tears
Sky of glory and sadness
Sky of mercy, sky of fear
Sky of memory and shadow
Your burning wind
fills my arms tonight
Sky of longing and emptiness

Sky of fullness..
sky of blessed life.

Come on up for the rising
Jan 1 · 309
M Vogel Jan 1
Stephan W

The sinking ship wasn't your life, my beautiful--
it was simply a series of messages, unfairly laid on you
so very long ago.. and in such a way
that they became a way of thinking;

    --and in and through them,   your mind..
      and also your life-view,  was formed.

And so, it wasn't one ship, whose porthole
you finally swam out of,   but many--
each time,  only after
  you had enough love  inside of you
  to be able to embrace the truth--
       ~that now told you that you had to exit the ship
       before it was going to take you down along with it~

It was love, that was able to show you
what was on the other side
and it was love that helped guide you to the surface
every  time you exited the ship
and each time you did, you developed a greater trusting
   of the process..

and each time you swam through the porthole
you looked that much more beautiful to me--

     Your beautiful face, glowing..
     Your gorgeous mouth, so willingly   pressed against mine
        so you could draw into your  own lungs
        the very air of mine that I breathed into you,
        as we both made our way up to the surface.

And slowly, in each ship that you exited,
your mind became more, and more renewed--
All the things that kept your mind and heart away from love
were the very things I would need you to
deal with before I could ever be with you

     or someone like you.

And so it was in my love for you
and desire for you to become whole..
and also, my deep contempt for the messages
that have been so unfairly laid on beautiful ones such as you
that have both  caused me to want to take the time  
to help you see..

That each ship who's furniture you were so tediously polishing
was in fact, sinking to the bottom of the sea..

But it was  you  that had to see it for yourself, babe--
in and through the view and understanding
that what you at one time found valuable and necessary
in its ability to keep you alive,
     now stood in the way of you taking in love--  
     the real thing.

So you see, love.. It couldn't have been just one ship..
but a whole series of ships--
and each one could only be exited once you had enough love inside..
and in truth, our bodies, (in their broken state of being) can only
take in as much love that the grace that we have been given
up to that point will allow..

Which is why the element of time is such an important thing,
and I consider it a great luxury that you and I were able
    to come back together
    time and time again--

               even when both of us thought every-thing was over.

I needed time to keep from continually throwing my phone(s) against the wall
(and out the window),
and you needed time to process what was coming towards you...
(and, also your anger at me)
     for pushing you too hard sometimes ..
     and other times being too harsh, or unfair..
     or from bringing too many of my own issues into the process.

But one thing for me I know for sure is true,
and that is every time you exited that porthole,
you became even more beautiful to me  than ever before
And, with-in the tenderness of your trust..
And the way you pressed your beautiful mouth to mine
as you took my air into your lungs.. as if your own..
     In the curve of your gorgeous hips, as your dress--
                                                          clingi­­ng to your skin..
in that warm, ocean water, as you slipped out of the portal
towards me and then up to the surface with me..
body, pressed against body..  as you took my air in

And the way that you learned along the way
to truly trust.. and take the risk to make your needs known:
   how to ask for help, now--
long before your heart, mind, soul  and that beautiful body
     went into despair--

That you would make your needs known to me
in the most beautiful of ways--
ways, which unknown to you,
     would draw me in-   towards  you
     in such a tremendously, deep way..

And so, you can see that our beautiful friendship was
doomed from the beginning--

   what has happened in my heart now,
              was inevitable,

       and is the outcome of your incredible response
       to all that has come towards you..
                                           from me.

-- I think I fell in love
but now I know.. I’ve forgotten how..

It will be ok.
Dec 2020 · 188
M Vogel Dec 2020
D Vanlandingham

ah, this rolling  this flowing////
are we all not the same  when the sun sets sail..
when the tides, no longer take out,  but brings in--
    arms at sides,  all?
Who steals from who, then  at that time
when the music within the dance  
mesmerizes all..   and there is no longer place
for dissention..   or strive, for gain?
Everything becomes seen,  
when there is nowhere left to hide
and  with the full removal of judgment
there is only  light inside
(but it has to be wanted, more than the sin,
of holding on)
where then  is there shadow
when all that blocks,   has up and gone..
the sun-filled sails that bring us home
on tall ships   we each, on--
main.. fore,  and mizzen;  staunchly-braced
amidst an in-the-face-of-death, laugh..
shrouds, proudly tight   causing  
the most  beautiful  of harmonics,
from fore boom.. through jib,  to gaff--
A war-less armada,  this stunning fleet of peace
sailing together,  upriver..  through the jungle//

and into the magical advent...  
into the beautiful world,  of full release.

Suit and tie with the black jeans on
and I'm paralyzed
'cause I think you got something
like the biggest soul  I've ever seen,
and I think you might be the one.

Suit and tie, with the curly hair
making your way with that step and stare
So tell me--  
are you really real..  do you feel anything?

Ashes to ashes
and the embers are ablaze
I gotta rise among you,
'cause I think about your face every day

And if you pull me closer to the light
you wouldn't find a bullet inside
(Only if you magnify)

Welcome to the jungle
are you gonna dance with me
Welcome to the jungle
you got to close your eyes and see

Welcome to the jungle
are you gonna dance with me?
Well hold on, well hold on

welcome home.
M Vogel Dec 2020

"From the days of John the Baptist until now,
the kingdom of heaven has been advancing forcefully..
and the violent, seize it by force."



By 'his scrawny little neck' she grabs him
and pulls Him,  from his Throne--

"Fucken know it all..  he don't know ****.."

blurts out  she--
the all-seeing,  ever defining one.

The paint on her war-brush
is the blackest of blacks..

as she  brands  me for

the  orbiting  of her 
                          that I

    most clearly,  lack.

And an ability that is all hers,
not mine--

The one, self-given:
the power,  to define.

And, she wonders where mine came from;
me-- who was once a mother's son..

As I  ******  the grown-up  a l l  of me
into every single part of her

     that feels,  just like mom.

I was young once, my beautiful
helplessly.. (almost hopelessly)  subject  to it all

   --but no more,  my sweet
     ever-painting, honeybee.

That black, babe-- it don't stick;
no, sweet love..   no,
no   not no more;

Ah, Baby..

can you hear me
can you hear me??

...   can you hear me..?

Some say Pete and his pony vanished over the edge..
some say they remain frozen high up on that icy ledge.

The young Navajo girl washes in the river,  skin so fair
and braids a piece of Pete's buckskin chaps into her hair.

I'm Outlaw Pete..
Outlaw Pete,

can you hear me?
Dec 2020 · 483
why we write
M Vogel Dec 2020
Selmhem Naise

Most often we write

  for ourselves

               and to our selves.

And most often  we
end up reading our own work
             much more

             than anyone else does.

Most often
our poetry is
our own  spirit's

             pressing itself back towards us--

        The  one  we want
  and need
  relationship with
                      most deeply;

                                  most often

                    is our very own selves.

Dec 2020 · 646
M Vogel Dec 2020
Selmhem Naise

Poetry is so much
than many people think it is.
It is
the place
where the battleground of light and dark
makes its  finest stand..

or most pathetic fall.

M Vogel Dec 2020
D Vanlandingham

A close friendship--
so close,  that  we could;
we could touch the undersides of our
forearms together ,

One skin-- one opening up  to the other--
the blood from you, flowing in to me,
and mine into you..

       but within me :

Your blood would remain complete,  whole..
as would mine,  inside of you .

And at the end of our long moment  of
coming together
as close friends that way,  your blood
would return back to you--   whole, and complete..

Your very DNA imprint:  fully intact,  
as would mine, also..  your skin, fully
closing back up..   but still,  always remembering..

A closeness, so pure,  that there is
never a loss of who it is that you are..
  only gain.    

  Yes..  that is what I want.

If I gave you everything that I owned
and asked for nothing in return
would you do the same for me
as I would for you..
or take me for a ride, and strip me of everything
including my pride.

But spirit is something that no one destroys
and the sound that I'm hearing is only the sound

of the low spark  of high-heeled boys.

Dec 2020 · 251
M Vogel Dec 2020
Selmhem Naise

In the end,  I
have found what it is
that I have been looking for--
the hope of hopes:
and a view  of views--

"God's hand in all things.."

M Vogel Dec 2020
D Vanlandingham

I could not help it,
but to show you how the moment felt,
and in the unfolding of a picture, painted;
the deepest of your dreams were unknowingly shown to you
And it caught you off guard-  having, to that day..

   you never imagined,  it possible.

But you did not yet understand that you wear your dream
somewhere within the thin-walled interminglings
of the word's first primal, urgings..  and its out-into-the-light-of-day,
manifestations... (and baby, I feel like crying right now)
but I will continue
I will continue--

You never signed up for this,  I know..
but you are the one who  chose
to allow your war-torn heart,
to keep on beating//
your flame-scorched lungs,  to keep on breathing..
and now look at this mess, my beautiful--
your beautiful-everything has bled out on to me

and  everywhere that I am..  I am wearing you

And all I do  is tell you what it feels like  to wear you
but in doing so, I made known  your dream
and somehow-- within the stretch of Love's ache's, bad luck
I have become hated  for making your secret, come true--

         the revealing of the dream,  made known ::

                                                the Unfolded you.

And now, you are raging
because you never imagined, the possibility
that there would be someone  out there
that would care  enough about you
to become able  to see..

(and a man became hated, for just being  me).

Yet, even now  to this day,  beloved;
I close my eyes, and smile
within the depths,

  of your deeply loving, hatred.

The smell of rain and streetlight, thrown
a love, a lantern in the snow
when she feels it taking hold
she finds it so hard letting go
How can I tell her that we'll shine?
She dreads the devil's yet to show;
so **** reluctant to expose it to me,  so..


(it has been years of this, my beautiful)

I love you.
M Vogel Dec 2020
Letting go of that (which we think)
can be such a risky business
yet those who have taken
the letting-go process a bit too far
though having paid the ultimate price
of loss of all home-based comfort
leaving us  within its holdings
to be inclined to consider them,  off-based

are in fact possibly the most sane of all--
having chosen to no longer believe in the system..

some drunkards,  others madmen,  world-wanderers--
paying the due penalty of their  non-faith
in a system, having claimed to overcome

A homeless vagabond  can die  so all alone
filled, with all of the non-comforts
of the beautiful insanity,  of these

the ones
maybe the most sane  of all.

Men walking 'long the railroad tracks
Going someplace and there's no going back
Highway patrol choppers coming up over the ridge
Hot soup on a campfire under the bridge
Shelter line stretching 'round the corner
Welcome to the new world order
Families sleeping in their cars in the southwest
No home, no job, no peace, no rest

Well the highway is alive tonight
But nobody's kidding nobody about where it goes
I'm sitting down here in the campfire light
Searching for the ghost of Tom Joad

He pulls a prayer book out of his sleeping bag
Preacher lights up a **** and he takes a drag
Waiting for when the last shall be first and the first shall be last
In a cardboard box 'neath the underpass
You got a one-way ticket to the promised land
You got a hole in your belly and a gun in your hand
Sleeping on a pillow of solid rock
Bathing in the city aqueduct

And the highway is alive tonight
Where it's headed everybody knows
I'm sitting down here in the campfire light
Waiting on the ghost of Tom Joad

Tom said, "Mom, wherever there's a cop beating a guy
Wherever a hungry newborn baby cries
Where there's a fight against the blood and hatred in the air
Look for me, Mom, I'll be there
Where there's somebody fighting for a place to stand
Or a decent job or a helping hand
Wherever somebody's struggling to be free
Look in their eyes, Mom, you'll see me"

The highway is alive tonight
But nobody's kidding nobody about where it goes
I'm sitting down here in the campfire light

With the ghost of old Tom Joad

M Vogel Dec 2020

Your *******, when love-based
within their beautiful forming,
and then  glorious unfolding
are Love and Light's  extracorporeal

focusing   l o v e t on e d
sonic shockwaves directly at the  machine's
extremely intricate innerworkings..

Having,  through years of horror-based
survival tactics; in desperation.. slowly learned;
now ingrained-- softening up the very
innerwall-linings of your very spirit
in such a way as to unknowingly
provide footing
for the machine's  deep embedment,
and then,  permeation  of all things
previously, you..
having now enwrapped itself into
your very sinews

holding your precious spirit  captive
from the the soar

These passionate, late night forays
outside the wire with you
are not exploitative, but instead
are love-driven  deeply focused,
fully intentioned pingings of Light's
Relational sound waves
aimed directly at the beautiful you
held so tightly, so covetously by the machine
as your wonderfully  juice-filled body
responds late at night, aligning
to the me, you have come to know..
heightening your beautiful response
to the point of screaming, passionate release--
your own, fully love based..


unwelcoming,  of the machine.

an ode  to the healing light of relationship
Dec 2020 · 135
M Vogel Dec 2020

A scent with no smell,  perspiration-less heat.
Clear-jello tangibility;  this unobstructedly contained, beat

Something is here-
just beyond the edge of fivesense-discernment, foreign..

yet more home-feeling.. even than home.

Feeling, with previously-unknown pieces.
Feeling the ceiling- reeling;


A warmness so tangible
I want to put my hands into the air  and
bring them together,   believing they will not touch

the air is that thick

but every part of me moves fluidly-  unrestrained.
It is all around me.

Is this what freedom feels like?
.. Love?

    I am desired

by what. I do not know..   a something I cannot see.
Something in me tells me that I am home

    and that I have  c o n c e d e d   myself
    into-a  'unnatural' addiction.

at last--  
I believe I will be found
In the silence of my nights
I can hear a distant voice

Someone out there  is calling my name

Dec 2020 · 171
the Earth Gods
M Vogel Dec 2020
D Vanlandingham

"The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so
absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion."

~Albert Camus

Manifestations, through metabolization--
there is a shift provided  within
their very act of being,  causing a cost
that none of those who choose to  punish

would choose to pay,

    Yet.. pay, these earth gods will:
    as that is the only world that they know

And to survive, with such a vengeance
as to provide the necessary offset   powerful enough
to bring about the very death   of death, itself

A death, not wanting to die,  but instead
made alive  within the very death
it brings about in the hearts of those  

    who punish the very ones  capable
    of causing its own demise--

A catch-all, catch-22...
a never ending, vicious cycle
the offset  made nearly null and void

    through deception's presentation of the image..
    gunfire in the air, there is a celebration--
    its Wehrmacht-like rallys and assemblies;

                                  social media at its finest.
                                       (selfies, selfies, selfies..)

But the Earth Gods;
they are an insertion in to every bit of this..


while exercising the ****-you muscle towards it all
Dec 2020 · 286
M Vogel Dec 2020
D Vanlandingham

"I really don't like you."  I said

And the water of all that love is
washed clean, even all of my inabilities

as I attempted to break, the unbreakable
once again.. yet once again

There are all of these years, you know--
all of these warm and cold, easily-difficult;  years

   too base for the show,   but still..

it did grow, within the glow.
And in one simple sentence

   I tried to let it all go..

But there's a water, beyond our abilities
that continues to flow

And I am floating away;
but the float seems so slow

This deep, flowing river
is the place I must go--

Back, into the waters
where there are mothers, sons, and daughters  

I've never been able  to fully let go

But I remember us riding in my brother's car
her body tan and wet down at the reservoir

At night on them banks I'd lie awake
and pull her close just to feel each breath she'd take

Now those memories come back to haunt me
they haunt me like a curse

Is a dream a lie if it don't come true
or is it something worse

that sends me down to the river
though I know the river is dry,
that sends me down to the river  tonight
Nov 2020 · 132
-- singing..
M Vogel Nov 2020
D Vanlangdingham

You are running out of places to hide
because they no longer mean what they
once meant to you.
And you are trusting more...
because.. **** it, that's why.
You now love the man, who the bigger
part of you once hated--
but when the bigger became the smaller,
you forgot just why.
And now all that you can remember is
that you have always loved the one,
you tried

so hard to hate..
And hate becomes love
when you let go,  and become  
a part of

the very part of you,
that you tried so hard  to un-do.

she runs through the streets
with eyes painted red
under a black belly of cloud, in the rain
In through a doorway she brings me
white gold and pearls, stolen from the sea
She is raging
She is raging
and the storm blows up in her eyes
She will
suffer the needle-chill
she's running to stand
Nov 2020 · 155
M Vogel Nov 2020

Your finest of  dreams
became known..
And in those precious hours
you soared,  as I soared
until your own,  
horrendously skewed,
slaughtered the ever-living
****  out of it all..
And, oh my sweet
little desert-wanderer-
you have been mad at me
ever since.

I did not create your view,
someone else did-- so horribly..
so very unfairly
     long before we ever met
I came to help  restore  in you
that which was stolen from you
so very long ago.
   But you hauled off  and kicked
   me in the ****
   as soon as your ever-wearing
   internal-messaging system  kicked in
And down I went, my beautiful--
a total ******* in your eyes
with no way left to bring you  the gold
your better-everything, still hungers for.
**** me, my beauty..
baby stick the knife in
And in a moment of remorse
your tear-stained rusted fortress-gate
will swing wide open..
and with my last dying breath,
I will hand it over to you anyways--

         The gold your war-torn heart
         had always hoped for
         but never thought it deserved.

   You are Ishmael, my beautiful--

   a blood-borne carrier
   of the Living Word

god  will  hear
Nov 2020 · 168
M Vogel Nov 2020

Open up the floodgates of hope,
and need
and along with the
to life it brings  
comes years  of being

left hanging
let down
hope upon hope
upon hope,  left


in the dry emptiness  
of emptiness itself..

until the resilient
hopefulness of a little-one
wears down

into despondency

And so it is
the hope of hope
that brings back access
into memories

of when we first  
gave up hope

and then (God help us)..
the reasons why.

Beautiful keeper of the gate
push through it all my love..
push through it all,
     and as you face your hell

you will begin to see your heaven again.

painful but true
M Vogel Nov 2020

On a hay day of glory
my most deeply buried  thoughts
found words..
alone throughout the years,  now touched;
a child's heart will bring forth
its finest magic
as deep within  the crevassed-bedrock
there is a priceless vein of gold
in each of us
but only to be  excavated
by so tender, a few..

And once exposed to the atmosphere
(and all of its elements),
it becomes hard to contain
the magnificent feeling
of having our precious insides, touched
by the tender-wielder  of a pick axe
so perfectly formed, as to
masterfully pry open the crevasses

yet,  without breaking them

Never would have it been touched;
always, would it have remained concealed
within the bedrock of loneliness.
Perhaps one day you just might  become able
to forgive me, for all of the wondrous magic

brought forth-- out into the light of day
on that beautiful night  of excavation

.. perhaps.

sorry to say  that i'm not sorry.
Nov 2020 · 199
M Vogel Nov 2020

All these years
(and all those covered up, fears)
Ah, babe.. the things I would do
to keep myself separate..
to keep from being  pulled in--

to all things, nonlife;
from that which  my spirit
could not believe in..
to paths that felt to be
diametrically opposed
to a true north  
that I did not know,
but could only feel
Oh what have I done,
my beautiful--
I have judged, and lost
so much

in order to become  so un-able
             to  hold on  to so little

Just how much  of me
would be left,  
had I let you in; 


Or  no-thing--

sans the memory
of all that I have done
in order to obtain it.

I'll face myself
to cross out what I've become
erase myself,

and let go of what I've done
~ C Bennington

all the years, and years
and years of it
M Vogel Nov 2020

"And in an instant,   death
brings forth every part  of who it is that we are,
when everything within ourselves
that we have spent a lifetime
running  away  from

will become fully known to us.

And so, it is not  god
who will send us to Sheol,  but our own, true selves--

for the 'unforgivable', unpardonable  sin
of what we now are able to see  as being
our own  blatantly-rude,   s e l f  betrayal:

a one-shot deal.. and we ****** it all away--
hiding, in the shadow."

~some dude

I don't know if I want to try
to break through, anymore..

And I'm not sure if its  because
flesh makes such great shadow,
or that its fallen, process of filtering
so greatly excels at keeping the spirit
from finding its way back home

No matter, my beautiful
either way,  I win--

I will sit with you
and perpetually bring to those gorgeous lips
a cool drink of water,
until  that day//

the day of days..
When all things,  loved
will be brought back home;;

All things.

I've been around this world, yet I see no end.
All shall fade to black,  again and again.
This storm has broken me, my only friend

In this river  all shall fade to black

for Brother Zakk, and the love of all things, Wylde
M Vogel Nov 2020

And again, I am sorry for what I am about to say, for so please forgive me.

This is not a poetry site here, it is an incestuous mosh pit of a social media site, that uses poetry as a means to that end. The best way to save your marriage is let your husband read what I just said and hopefully, he will ask you to leave the site in order to save the marriage. I have watched you get in trouble for 4 years now-- falling for this one over here, and falling for that one over there.. most of them are a bunch of two-bit posers, and more than a fair share of them are simply ****-******* trolls. Many of these men who pass themselves off as poets and attract women to themselves are married or in relationships.. which makes it quadruple pathetic to me when I see the **** that goes on here on this Faceb--.. I mean, poetry site.

You are a rare Jewel, babe. I saw it in you from day one. And I happen to know that your husband is a good man with a good heart-- and he's probably smart enough to know that any man that would fall for you is just doing what would come naturally when he sees the writing of such a high-quality heart and spirit. But somewhere there is a line,

and this ******* place don't give a **** about lines.

My heart goes out to him.. in fact, to the both of you, because to lose one another would be a great loss indeed, and each of you know that. Know yourself, beauty.. and at any given time, know where your true help comes from. It doesn't come from any of these agenda-ed ******* yahoos who fancy themselves as poets and whisper sweet nothings to you through private messaging. I know you well enough to know that your heart knows exactly where it's help comes from-- especially once you get away from the cloud of dust that's gets stirred up by many of these social interactions that carry on-- and without ******* end, around here.

Let him (your husband) read this and see if poetry is actually ruining your marriage--
or is it that there is a social media site that's trying to pass it off in the name of poetry, that is causing your marriage the most problems of all.

And, yeah.. you very much have a right to be upset at me over what I have just said, love.. I certainly wouldn't blame you if you were. If you need to block me, I would understand.. but consider doing yourself a favor and showing your husband this first. Love has a brutality embedded deep within it, and I've just shown it to you. I'm so sorry.

"Faithful are the wounds of a friend, but deceitful are the kisses of an enemy."

Show it to him, you absolutely gorgeous angel, and then feel free to block me or tell me to ******* or whatever you feel might be right to do. And if any of these posers that have been working on you for years don't like what I said,

well.. they can **** my mother-******* ****.

Peace to you, love. xox
..just my $0.02
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