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"ambrosial" poems
two women a single Gemini of desire the yin the yang betwixt the known and unreachable swinging on wide arcs of extremis inhabiting opposite polar worlds and all the spaces in between intrepid sailors dare hope to explore T the outer R the inner T’s tiny name betrays a big robusto femininity bombastically womanly big ***** jazz ***** perfumed musky hips and **** that rock and those lips oh, those ruby red Norma Jean lips I’m puckered up begging her to paste a big rouge smooch on my eager lips press those bustling bosoms onto my face wrap those arms round me with a rasperous hug shake me with gyrations of your gracious shimmy thang you wow the bow out of this dog taking lovers prisoner with the coy blink of wide eyes flashing lashes batting brow boldly being a force of a mothers nature bearing and belting Bessie’s ***** blues to a howling crowd wanting more fully enthralled bedazzled enraptured with quixotic hypnotics I'm frozen solid hoping to melt into the heat of your inviting fire R bespeaks whispers from an inner place she lines the lost desires of a yearning heart she offers the softest curves the delicious touch the wet presence of a delicate tongue limpid fingers hide shy sly ******* offering invitations to hidden nests humming the incarnate dark forest secrets of bloomed lilacs and sweet carnations the voice of poems dance and flutter from her mouth as the lightest butterfly wings wayward onto soft hearts yearning seducement her kimono gently parts at the slightest suggestion of a rising breeze her songs invite lovers to pillowed chambers daring intrepid men to risk the death of desirous tempests I melt into the delicate complexity of your fleshy heat my dear celestial twins the lovely Gemini each different reduce me in differing ways to a puddle of rippling water reflecting the glorious elegance of wondrous ambrosial femininity Dedicated to T& R Music Selection: Barbra Streisand Pretty Women Oakland 4/26/12 jbm
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Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 10:56 PM UTC
Gemini
two women a single Gemini of desire the yin the yang betwixt the known and unreachable swinging on wide arcs of extremis inhabiting opposite polar worlds and all the spaces in between intrepid sailors dare hope to explore T the outer R the inner T’s tiny name betrays a big robusto femininity bombastically womanly big ***** jazz ***** perfumed musky hips and **** that rock and those lips oh, those ruby red Norma Jean lips I’m puckered up begging her to paste a big rouge smooch on my eager lips press those bustling bosoms onto my face wrap those arms round me with a rasperous hug shake me with gyrations of your gracious shimmy thang you wow the bow out of this dog taking lovers prisoner with the coy blink of wide eyes flashing lashes batting brow boldly being a force of a mothers nature bearing and belting Bessie’s ***** blues to a howling crowd wanting more fully enthralled bedazzled enraptured with quixotic hypnotics I'm frozen solid hoping to melt into the heat of your inviting fire R bespeaks whispers from an inner place she lines the lost desires of a yearning heart she offers the softest curves the delicious touch the wet presence of a delicate tongue limpid fingers hide shy sly ******* offering invitations to hidden nests humming the incarnate dark forest secrets of bloomed lilacs and sweet carnations the voice of poems dance and flutter from her mouth as the lightest butterfly wings wayward onto soft hearts yearning seducement her kimono gently parts at the slightest suggestion of a rising breeze her songs invite lovers to pillowed chambers daring intrepid men to risk the death of desirous tempests I melt into the delicate complexity of your fleshy heat my dear celestial twins the lovely Gemini each different reduce me in differing ways to a puddle of rippling water reflecting the glorious elegance of wondrous ambrosial femininity Dedicated to T& R Music Selection: Barbra Streisand Pretty Women Oakland 4/26/12 jbm
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189
Soothing, sensational, elegant as the harp, Semblance, integument, covering of the tarp, Ebullient, vivacious, precision of the mind, Vehement, appetent, keen & one of a kind, Perfervid, chocolate katydid, desirable & luscious taste, Delectable, ambrosial, palatable & consumed with haste, Sybaritic, voluptuous, enticing to the senses, Libidinous, hedonic, enriched untightened hinges, Efficacious, puissant, robust delight to the eye, Potent, consequential, immeasurable symbol of the sky, Pulchritudinous, gorgeous, magnificent as the autumn sun, Resplendent, vivid, lustrous as a diamond-lithographed gun, Sympathetic, affectionate, condoling soul of a angel, Altruistic, benignant, warmhearted with no mangle, Serenity, tranquility, composure of divine peace, Harmonious, amicable, placid as the slow moving creek...
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Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 6:46 PM UTC
Jovial Thoughts, Genial Mind...
All hail the Lizard King, whose esoteric words crawl like sirens over hungry rocks baring teeth to the hypnotized sailor steering his ship into the jagged maw. All hail the Lizard King, perched upon his Dionysian throne, ambrosial ecstasies fill his cup while jongleurs dance to psychedelic chansons. At his feet prey the nubile maidens of yore flower-eyed and pearly-teethed. His eyes, mighty azure pools of madness within which Byzantine kings were murdered-- blood darts through the mysterious waters into the hysterical white void. Alexander the Great sits poised like a statue where his libido crouches like a panther 'til the aural adonis leaps from his confines an amorous figure of tantalizing flesh and blood with supple lips pouting, naked muscles taut, mad eyes gleaming. All hail the Lizard King, from lush lips poetic decrees sing forth into the endless night penetrating taverns and bedrooms and radios and stadiums. The electric shaman leaps from his throne to cast his wicked incantation, a spark from his eyes shoots to the pyre where a lustful blue flame erupts from the bones of the prophets. HIs voice soothing, haunting, the sonic alchemist sings his siren song into the cataclysm where we are cast in abeyance-- We follow him, but is he only leading us deeper into the darkness, or does he truly see the light? The endless night. All hail the Lizard King.
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Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 10:06 PM UTC
All Hail the Lizard King
The smell of a spring rain settling on the earth is the smell of life anew. At the window, I sit with a book, both cracked, cooled by the alfresco air seeping through, and tiny droplets glissando down the pane. The pitter-patter of a soft rain falling to the parched earth is the sound of life replenished. At the rain's offset, I leap from my chair, exiting the front door, to saunter through the lush green pastures that linger outside the library's confines. How green the trees appear, and the grass-- how rich the stalks of the trees, their boughs with budding leaves quenched, glistening in the sun. I even enjoy the scent coming off the once arid pavement-- it is the smell of the earth, freed from its impedance, rising above the stifling asphalt.   I smell the life that lingers beneath, and the dull metallic tinfoil taste of the pavement fills my open nostrils-- It is pleasant, though a little less so, than the ambrosial landscape. I inhale ever so deeply, relishing my favorite part of spring, in the offset of a warm afternoon rain on a brisk day, sauntering through the wood-laden trails on worn brick paths, to the paved parking lot where my car awaits-- delineated in a filmy layer of mired pollen residue. It needed a wash anyways.
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May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 1:34 PM UTC
Petrichor
Aeolian dour fire meridians Unfettering enlightenments will Together Scylla with authority Howling, Charybdis in oblivians wake Shenting spindel meandering; The schism termagating sirens Repasts (diabolic manna) Refracting ambrosial in the Lap of Gods eye sophically conjecturing Ephinany- times charioteering, The nocturnal triunes discordance Contemplating consequence thistling Opothecaric sigels permeating lots Obstruse lathed cerebral skies Ruthfully roil whittling indelible Epitaphs of serpentine repositories Woefully dawning eternity castening Harmoniously asunder truths Deifying yen die. ELEETE J MUIR.
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Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 11:14 AM UTC
Dusk Accursing
Frozen moments, embraced, visions of luminous things, unpretentious pearls dancing; embers of memory linger, elegy of the lachrymose, this horizoning self lying low in saturnine tranquility and repose – paternity lost to the provisional. The cross of lassitude, forming scars of loss; estrangement, preface to ineluctable autonomy. Earthen treasure - immortal footprints, the migration of fair maidens across my effusive heart. Venus trio in bloom, aesthetic allusion, ephemeral incarnations of beauty - perishable fruit, transcending the plebeian. Aerial substance- the hermeneutic, betraying desire’s ambrosial tyranny; The permuted passage - savor the sojourn, submit to the fated peregrination. Purple orchids blossom, immortal creatures, culminating in perfection from the sheath respectively, each plume, singular, the continuum of splendor, mediate the inviolable. Eternity compounding, time and essence suffuse the already and not yet into an orbiting mosaic. The susurrant devotions of a satellite father, summon the quest - both, and, absence and proximity, conduits of distress and peace ironically, solace and terror traverse the same path. Plunge though, deep, the depth of pain; deeper, sweeter the taste of pleasure. Engender and witness, window into preeminence, surface azure, the sacred - inimitable gravity of grandeur, ma petite, you - are lived poetry seen and heard; cosmic order, a mediating heuristic - to love is to see, in the dismal, gift of distance. child of delight, evermore, Don’t I hold you? Beauty and strangeness, music found in linear, secret places beyond the tangent, purview of limitation, arousing imagination - infinititude as near as it is far. Long loneliness - dissonance that resolves; perceiving, the tertiary refrain - as exquisite verse, and matchless liqueur, sublime gratuity derived through doors of surrender. Daughter, in adoration and wonder, I hold you.
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Jan 19, 2012
Jan 19, 2012 at 5:25 PM UTC
Venus in Bloom
Frozen moments, embraced, visions of luminous things, unpretentious pearls dancing; embers of memory linger, elegy of the lachrymose, this horizoning self lying low in saturnine tranquility and repose – paternity lost to the provisional. The cross of lassitude, forming scars of loss; estrangement, preface to ineluctable autonomy. Earthen treasure - immortal footprints, the migration of fair maidens across my effusive heart. Venus trio in bloom, aesthetic allusion, ephemeral incarnations of beauty - perishable fruit, transcending the plebeian. Aerial substance- the hermeneutic, betraying desire’s ambrosial tyranny; The permuted passage - savor the sojourn, submit to the fated peregrination. Purple orchids blossom, immortal creatures, culminating in perfection from the sheath respectively, each plume, singular, the continuum of splendor, mediate the inviolable. Eternity compounding, time and essence suffuse the already and not yet into an orbiting mosaic. The susurrant devotions of a satellite father, summon the quest - both, and, absence and proximity, conduits of distress and peace ironically, solace and terror traverse the same path. Plunge though, deep, the depth of pain; deeper, sweeter the taste of pleasure. Engender and witness, window into preeminence, surface azure, the sacred - inimitable gravity of grandeur, ma petite, you - are lived poetry seen and heard; cosmic order, a mediating heuristic - to love is to see, in the dismal, gift of distance. child of delight, evermore, Don’t I hold you? Beauty and strangeness, music found in linear, secret places beyond the tangent, purview of limitation, arousing imagination - infinititude as near as it is far. Long loneliness - dissonance that resolves; perceiving, the tertiary refrain - as exquisite verse, and matchless liqueur, sublime gratuity derived through doors of surrender. Daughter, in adoration and wonder, I hold you.
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108
O mighty-mouth'd inventor of harmonies, O skill'd to sing of Time or Eternity, God-gifted organ-voice of England, Milton, a name to resound for ages; Whose Titan angels, Gabriel, Abdiel, Starr'd from Jehovah's gorgeous armouries, Tower, as the deep-domed empyrean Rings to the roar of an angel onset-- Me rather all that bowery loneliness, The brooks of Eden mazily murmuring, And bloom profuse and cedar arches Charm, as a wanderer out in ocean, Where some refulgent sunset of India Streams o'er a rich ambrosial ocean isle, And crimson-hued the stately palm-woods
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2.7k
Milton (Alcaics)
The foretold episode is ripe And the childless dawn is now flowering, The awesome parrots of Africa Have began swimming in the heavens And singing the verses of the paraded bees, For the warrior of South Africa Has ultimately impregnated the Godsbaa Without violating her divine virginity, The black star arouse from Ghana, Journeyed gorgeously through Zimbabwe And has decisively descended on South Africa, Bu this is just the divine seed Yet to grow into a full black African moon, For the black star of the black man Is the religious light yet to radiate on The colourless naivete of mankind, Ah, the premise behind this Exhibition makes a perfect sense, We did begin it all, Pilgrimage through it all And shall end it all, For the wreckage of Humanity flies with time And the megapower status Of the African is a fact of life, Today, a new voice has been Added to the joy of the black women, Causing the dry bamboo flutes to buzz With the pantaloons of the ancestors, Adorn our emerald embryonic pride with The ambrosial smiles charms of the sunrise, For he pelts of the peerless mid-night Has been remodeled with our dark gore. © PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI Email: [email protected]
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Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 6:09 AM UTC
THE BLACK STAR
High ground I concede to you in the disproportion of a time allotted to you for the choice of robe to grace a glorified cameo around your flesh like a sheet designated for an overthrowing in an honorary statue's unveiling Liturgy is looming in the bathroom already hot-boxed in the metal waterfall's mist of moisture and the mountain range of bubbles I have settled comfortably into in wait High ground awaits your hallowed prance into the concealed languish of your man's dangling imagination I salute you with incentive through a lowering of eyes made necessary by your towering above my horizontal soak I'm beseeching you to wield royal sway over the humility of my reclined posture with the hidden scepter of your body fated to dictate the pace of my anticipated knighting The gentle thud of fabric on linoleum incites a turning of my head to take in the litany of parts available to my frenetic feels and jumbled focus Stationary in your naked smile of proximity you extend to me excessive time to entertain options as I coat myself in lukewarm opportunities and rise to meet you for a bathing in my excess wetness I accelerate my exit to negate the bubbled tribuataries sliding to the floor to meet the remnants of your mystery The wall is cold and you protrude haplessly to meet the rapid chilling of my undried frame Warmth is of the essence Fingers split your hair in celebration of our uniform heights and I feel you slouch signalling our first hint of friction and a twitch in my diviner of your cradle of essential warmth Do you realize you now rescind creative license? Or have you filled the snare of your intentions? Now your balance shivers in the mercy of my curled leg of leverage and an coiled arm collecting your ambrosial attributes like an ice cream scoop Uniform heights allowing eye contact makes optional the visual acknowledgment of my elastic hunting in the smooth field of your breast with a dancing thumb I connect and latch onto what is now our binding axis and shuffle eye contact with the universal rhythm of a pelvic power ballad
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Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
HOW TO FIND PERSONALITY INSIDE A UNIFORM
High ground I concede to you in the disproportion of a time allotted to you for the choice of robe to grace a glorified cameo around your flesh like a sheet designated for an overthrowing in an honorary statue's unveiling Liturgy is looming in the bathroom already hot-boxed in the metal waterfall's mist of moisture and the mountain range of bubbles I have settled comfortably into in wait High ground awaits your hallowed prance into the concealed languish of your man's dangling imagination I salute you with incentive through a lowering of eyes made necessary by your towering above my horizontal soak I'm beseeching you to wield royal sway over the humility of my reclined posture with the hidden scepter of your body fated to dictate the pace of my anticipated knighting The gentle thud of fabric on linoleum incites a turning of my head to take in the litany of parts available to my frenetic feels and jumbled focus Stationary in your naked smile of proximity you extend to me excessive time to entertain options as I coat myself in lukewarm opportunities and rise to meet you for a bathing in my excess wetness I accelerate my exit to negate the bubbled tribuataries sliding to the floor to meet the remnants of your mystery The wall is cold and you protrude haplessly to meet the rapid chilling of my undried frame Warmth is of the essence Fingers split your hair in celebration of our uniform heights and I feel you slouch signalling our first hint of friction and a twitch in my diviner of your cradle of essential warmth Do you realize you now rescind creative license? Or have you filled the snare of your intentions? Now your balance shivers in the mercy of my curled leg of leverage and an coiled arm collecting your ambrosial attributes like an ice cream scoop Uniform heights allowing eye contact makes optional the visual acknowledgment of my elastic hunting in the smooth field of your breast with a dancing thumb I connect and latch onto what is now our binding axis and shuffle eye contact with the universal rhythm of a pelvic power ballad
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53
My god, your beauty is bright I can see the halo radiating though the clouds at night my heart hastily pulsating whenever we're in the same room my eyes only gravitate towards you I recognize that lovely ambrosial perfume when you glance, my cheeks take a different hue I have immortalized you through my poems but I rather spend this mortal life basking in your lissome arms a drop of you cures all my strife I want you in the flesh instead of dreams but any thought of you is okay by me look how the moon thinly beams highlighting my idiosyncrasy You move my pen, dear and you don't even know it to you I owe this writing career and I am scared that I might blow it
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Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 2:43 PM UTC
A Poem About the Moon
Where Claribel low-lieth The breezes pause and die, Letting the rose-leaves fall: But the solemn oak-tree sigheth, Thick-leaved, ambrosial, With an ancient melody Of an inward agony, Where Claribel low-lieth. At eve the beetle boometh Athwart the thicket lone: At noon the wild bee hummeth About the moss'd headstone: At midnight the moon cometh, And looketh down alone. Her song the lintwhite swelleth, The clear-voiced mavis dwelleth, The callow throstle lispeth, The slumbrous wave outwelleth, The babbling runnel crispeth, The hollow grot replieth Where Claribel low-lieth.
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2.2k
Claribel
Its that time of year When joy and laughter fill the air And sugar and sweets Make quite the ambrosial treats Pine trees and needles Release aromas in the air. They gleam with décor And memories to remember. The suns rays glimmer Off of shiny beads of snowflakes. Bodies of water Become encased by an ice face. Snowball fights and forts Make entertainment from the porch. Snowmen and angels Create art in front yards galore. Santa checks his list For those who were naughty and nice Then makes a round trip Around the world in one night. He delivers gifts To millions and millions of kids Consisting of things They wish to get on their wish list. A warm giving heart Pitter patters with love and joy. Presents are opened With beaming eyes and excitement. A warm fireplace With a mantle full of stockings And conversation Is a scene treasured forever. There’s no better time To forget animosity Remember the good And live giving to those who need. For this is the time To let grace become the clocks face Ticking and tocking Non-stop to show peace still exists. You become second To those who deserve to be first For it’s the season Where giving gives life a reason.
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Dec 12, 2012
Dec 12, 2012 at 2:52 PM UTC
December
*Your words of tender, mellow slur are furls and wisps of thin, streaming clouds; dancing ecstatic, swaying hypnotic, sailing on the somber oceans of the wind-- then nestling as mist at the doors of these still lake lips of mine, hankering to swallow and wallow the low-resting, quiet, ambrosial fog.*
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May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 11:26 PM UTC
Small Talk
Sudden, as a bolt from the blue, Came down a humming bird, tantalizing Skimming down and darting up As an ever revolving top It reeled round and round Before it alighted on a shoe flower; That hung from a drooping branch In a corner of my front yard garden It precariously clung on to it Like a small pendent on a chain A sight so cool, now so rare That lighted up my dull spirits!       Once they showed themselves up On almost every sunny day Promptly after the monsoon rains When the plants en mass in resplendent bloom Oh! How I love this tiny bird Not larger than a bumble bee Dressed in a cloak of gold and black Flitting round on fluttering wings It literally dances and pirouettes in the air Before descending down closer to its target       Swirling, gliding n’ moving back and forth       As if unsure of what it should do       Then with a terrific **** and swiveling move       It hovers close to hanging blooms Balancing itself sans any support And draws out nectar with its long needle bill When the zephyrs carry a sweet scent It flits from flower to flower And having enjoyed the ambrosial treat It flies back well satiated like a shooting missile              My eyes fail to capture its lightning move As it goes whizzing through the lambent air Quickly disappearing like a mote of soot Losing itself in the vast expanse of the blue Being less than an ounce of fat So light, sleek and well streamlined It travels faster than the light of speed In a fleeting dash, moving out of sight Can any other bird rival it in agility? Or vie with it in its simple grace? How cute, this spirit of ‘disembodied joy’ This winged diminutive denizen of the sky! ,
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Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 7:31 AM UTC
A Hummingbird in My Garden
Sudden, as a bolt from the blue, Came down a humming bird, tantalizing Skimming down and darting up As an ever revolving top It reeled round and round Before it alighted on a shoe flower; That hung from a drooping branch In a corner of my front yard garden It precariously clung on to it Like a small pendent on a chain A sight so cool, now so rare That lighted up my dull spirits!       Once they showed themselves up On almost every sunny day Promptly after the monsoon rains When the plants en mass in resplendent bloom Oh! How I love this tiny bird Not larger than a bumble bee Dressed in a cloak of gold and black Flitting round on fluttering wings It literally dances and pirouettes in the air Before descending down closer to its target       Swirling, gliding n’ moving back and forth       As if unsure of what it should do       Then with a terrific **** and swiveling move       It hovers close to hanging blooms Balancing itself sans any support And draws out nectar with its long needle bill When the zephyrs carry a sweet scent It flits from flower to flower And having enjoyed the ambrosial treat It flies back well satiated like a shooting missile              My eyes fail to capture its lightning move As it goes whizzing through the lambent air Quickly disappearing like a mote of soot Losing itself in the vast expanse of the blue Being less than an ounce of fat So light, sleek and well streamlined It travels faster than the light of speed In a fleeting dash, moving out of sight Can any other bird rival it in agility? Or vie with it in its simple grace? How cute, this spirit of ‘disembodied joy’ This winged diminutive denizen of the sky! ,
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45
Ambrosial stitches weave        on the seams of closeness. Arms encompassing beyond grasps,            never loosing the palms of the other. Under burgundy does modesty elude,               outlines of what is crafted beneath. Locking intimacy together,                                virtues never revealing. They are the keepers of each other,         richness ever filling within.                      For if every penny was love, plentiful would there togetherness bring.
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Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 4:29 PM UTC
A Purse Of Many Riches
. *Drowning seas abed Drenched in brines ambrosial Ocean scent of her*
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Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 9:02 PM UTC
Zz Siren Pool
I. I awoke with different eyes today; What felt like the eyes of Antares; A lucid frenzy orbiting ambrosial crimson dahlias, Laughing. You bore witness to the opening of my ribcage That I have solemnly manifested for your mind only. I have opened my rib cage for you, yes, Like a weeping delicate bloom, Birthing in the winter desert, travail. This is your virginity Mothered by my violent torn hands; My bones shudder; Vibrations of prophecies, Oracles of each single atom Bursting within the cosmos, singing— I prostrate; Submissive to your fragility. You colored my skin With the shade of your rouged lips, And like the moon, my branched bones became Spring By your mouth Entombed beautifully in the garden of our creed. Don’t you know that your hands, Your hands are flooded With sins? the sins you have encountered with your victims; Like me, your victim; Our veins flow from the rivers of mother earths chest. Nymphs with there pale skins; They bathe in your hidden ocean of blood That has yet to burst forth Held behind the enshrined gates of virginity. I hold you above my head, I humbly wear you as my crown. II. I awoke with different eyes today Perhaps the eyes of the black cat Dying her ninth death. I devise these things, And I can tell you The pleasure of feeling Nothing. III. I awoke with different eyes today Half life, half death. I have gazed at life And cried. I have conversed with death And laughed; And by all means Analogies have never seemed so bona fide as the affairs of the sun and the moon. IV You awoke with new eyes this morning, A woman. You are now a woman. This is the only difference. forgive me for my words. -Arizona
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Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 8:30 AM UTC
A Man Is Not A Man Until He Is A Woman
I. I awoke with different eyes today; What felt like the eyes of Antares; A lucid frenzy orbiting ambrosial crimson dahlias, Laughing. You bore witness to the opening of my ribcage That I have solemnly manifested for your mind only. I have opened my rib cage for you, yes, Like a weeping delicate bloom, Birthing in the winter desert, travail. This is your virginity Mothered by my violent torn hands; My bones shudder; Vibrations of prophecies, Oracles of each single atom Bursting within the cosmos, singing— I prostrate; Submissive to your fragility. You colored my skin With the shade of your rouged lips, And like the moon, my branched bones became Spring By your mouth Entombed beautifully in the garden of our creed. Don’t you know that your hands, Your hands are flooded With sins? the sins you have encountered with your victims; Like me, your victim; Our veins flow from the rivers of mother earths chest. Nymphs with there pale skins; They bathe in your hidden ocean of blood That has yet to burst forth Held behind the enshrined gates of virginity. I hold you above my head, I humbly wear you as my crown. II. I awoke with different eyes today Perhaps the eyes of the black cat Dying her ninth death. I devise these things, And I can tell you The pleasure of feeling Nothing. III. I awoke with different eyes today Half life, half death. I have gazed at life And cried. I have conversed with death And laughed; And by all means Analogies have never seemed so bona fide as the affairs of the sun and the moon. IV You awoke with new eyes this morning, A woman. You are now a woman. This is the only difference. forgive me for my words. -Arizona
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65
You told me if I take one step towards you that you'll take 10 towards me. Showing up and I'm thinking my God this isn't for me... Cold showers, Almond Oil, Head Covering? Man... I gotta fly- T.S.A. Tratakum Sadhana Awakened To the kiss of the Amrit Vela--the Ambrosial Hour--sitting at Gods table Infinity Generating Life Organizing Death Destroying Rebirth Delivering... Sa Ta Na Ma... Wahe Guru!! I stand reborn and aware This IS the Yoga of Awareness... Now I'm running towards You, seeing You in All--a Mirror Gazing at a Mirror THIS is MY Identity--Truth. Sat Nam... Say it with me... Sat Nam Breath it in and feel it with me!! SAT NAM!!! ~Reza Bavar
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Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 10:35 PM UTC
Truth is My Identity ("Sat Nam")
And like LSD in the spine, small parts of you will sleep forever in the back of my bones, in my little ligaments, my feral fluids. Because you are such an ambrosial mix of chemicals floating along side this vessel in space and I'd enjoy it ever so much if you melted and overtook me with your enzymes so that we could be one.
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Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 11:41 AM UTC
No. 3
A prophecy arose Within the silhouette of dawn how the hollow skylines pirouette along fate’s bowels gliding in smooth succession Whilst sampling memories of Japanese cherry blossoms moths fervently surround Diverse symmetries of porch lights Reveries
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Apr 27, 2012
Apr 27, 2012 at 6:25 AM UTC
Ambrosial Lights
Engulf me with melody only for a moment and I'll walk the forest of hunted wolves and despondent lions. The once ambrosial aroma of frail lilies, a smothering hebenon hand. The rays shy away from the polygamy of reapers and senectitude, relishing valiant men. Immerse me in harmonious symphonies only for a moment and I'll tread the trench terrane with jubilent feet, blind to the alluring viper's habanera under lacerated hearsecloth worn by the forest.
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Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 3:55 PM UTC
late leaves in baleful billows
What reasons could there be? For sure, none just that you should be alone! So bright struck from your eyes, like stars The rays of hope when first I saw you That I said the day was dark for me If I had failed once to look upon your face. So now I peer the while, expectant for you As the earth turns toward the sun for morning light Revolving in my mind your form and features- How they draw from me lively anticipations of your caress. Alone? If you’re alone, it’s not for want of charm or beauty But that Man’s grown dim of sight and hard of heart Not to be moved, as was I, by one marveled glance of you; For once enough it was for me to look into your brimming eyes And swoon with ambrosial thoughts that you might grant me favor- So fitly joining each, as one Enraptured with our prime humanity! Smile then, for I am wont to play the courtly fool for you And entertain a simple dance of meaning. Yet one thing, it is no jest- If your heart’s as fair as your form implies More I’d serve respect and high regard Far better than this playful verse I now employ; For this, I’d broach with awe And if you dare my innocent and eager wiles to try Up-springing I will throw a thousand garlands round you Whispering sweet admirations of the soul That you, for this and laughter, then must say and true confess- I am not alone, far be it hence!
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Dec 9, 2011
Dec 9, 2011 at 10:03 PM UTC
Sprite of Fairhaven