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"andante" poems
You unscrew the jar; Orion’s climactic sigh spills— A cello’s low A hums—our triad, C and E—the night skies. Your thumb caresses pulse down my throat, andante, it drills through myth—not his hunt, but the damp heat between our thighs. We’ve plucked Lyra’s rusted chords, restrung her spine to thrum with your breath, not some dead muse’s cords. Stars crack like old records; we skip, we refine— our bed, a cradle for light, shed our sheer white peignoirs. You fear the jars dim? Let me mouth the black core of Cassiopeia—choke her brittle groan, then laugh as you arch—my crescendo, your score— each note a plum’s burst where her language had flown. Your teeth score my shoulder. The dark soars, unconfined— We swallow the arias. Let the void choke on mine.
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Apr 18, 2025
Apr 18, 2025 at 8:06 PM UTC
Unstringing the Constellations’ Libretto
There is no experience in the world       that I cherish more             than hearing my father play the piano. It's imperfect and beautiful and                                                        sounds                                                                like                                                                   home. The notes are often choppy, and there are pauses       as his mind turns over what keys to play next --             sort of like our lives as a family. We're awkward       and have             broken             periods, but altogether we're making music. Every breath a note,       every laugh a chord, every      "I love you"      a harmony             that only our family       can hear. And there's staccato! arguments, and there's fortissimo days with pianissimo nights, and there's repeat on repeat on repeat,       making our lives seem       constantly       andante. But life is like a series of randomly placed fermatas -- unpredictable, yet musically enriched because of it.             And I wouldn't want it any other way.
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Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 6:43 PM UTC
My Father's Piano
Cried the navy-blue ghost Of Mr. Belaker The allegro ***** cocktail-shaker, "Why did the **** crow, Why am I lost, Down the endless road to Infinity toss'd? The tropical leaves are whispering white As water; I race the wind in my flight. The white lace houses are carried away By the tide; far out they float and sway. White is the nursemaid on the parade. Is she real, as she flirts with me unafraid? I raced through the leaves as white as water... Ghostly, flowed over the nursemaid, caught her, Left her...edging the far-off sand Is the foam of the sirens' Metropole and Grand; And along the parade I am blown and lost, Down the endless road to Infinity toss'd. The guinea-fowl-plumaged houses sleep... On one, I saw the lone grass weep, Where only the whimpering greyhound wind Chased me, raced me, for what it could find." And there in the black and furry boughs How slowly, coldly, old Time grows, Where the pigeons smelling of gingerbread, And the spectacled owls so deeply read, And the sweet ring-doves of curded milk Watch the Infanta's gown of silk In the ghost-room tall where the governante Gesticulates lente and walks andante. 'Madam, Princesses must be obedient; For a medicine now becomes expedient-- Of five ingredients--a diapente, Said the governante, fading lente... In at the window then looked he, The navy-blue ghost of Mr. Belaker, The allegro ***** cocktail-shaker-- And his flattened face like the moon saw she-- Rhinoceros-black (a flowing sea!).
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2.2k
Four in the Morning
Your sigh—flute’s trill upon my waiting neck, Awakens chords that hum beneath my breast. Melodies where naked spirits—erect, Notes wild and free, where passions seek their crest. Each touch, a whole note, bodies, andante, coalesce, A prelude to a symphony of our scents, Where songs of pleasure swell, we gently press, Our emotions we softly bare—no consent. Your skin, a sun-warmed drum—hands descend, We resonate in rhythms—smooth and deep. Exploring with you, lost in sweet desires, ageless spent. I taste the salt where gentle currents seek sleep. Our inner music flows, a tide without a name, In Gaia's Soothing Haven, our bodies, unashamed.
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Mar 27, 2025
Mar 27, 2025 at 5:46 PM UTC
Our Baroque of Bare Breaths
Marry me a sugar daddy It about stability and a sense of security And ways of staying happy and not about the money I need my life to shine bright like diamond It might be critical, it might be political All that matters, is where I lay my head I am a happier with my decision Because when I go to hell I am going Gangnam style With a wide range of emotions; Andante I just am going to marry me sugar daddy. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ The good life is not only about the money
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Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 6:19 PM UTC
I Marry My Sugar Daddy
empty shell, these hands, a praying whisper... a dew glitter, frozen dawn, the bird flies. waving branches, a single tree, so unclear, empty shell, these hands, a praying whisper... shattered threshold, rendered abyss, the skies, blind hands, trembling flame, the river dries. empty shell, these hands, a praying whisper... a dew glitter, frozen dawn, the bird flies.
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Dec 27, 2015
Dec 27, 2015 at 7:58 PM UTC
Andante grave
intermission with the UMSL Orchestra The backstage hall was wall-to-wall smiles. Just moments before, Barbara Harbach had charged the stage after we premiered her joyous Jubilee Symphony screaming at them all the way, "That was spectacular"! The Arianna Quartet's Kurt and Joanna stormed down the steps spewing out pieces of their minds in no uncertain terms "excellent" - "great job" - "beautiful". I preferred to hang out on the edge wrapped in the silken echoes of Tchaikovsky's Andante cantabile (so eloquently sung by our youthful strings). Intermission was up and it was back to work time. In the abyss of despair over his dying ears, Beethoven flooded the world with the blazing sunglow of his prophetic second symphony and it was now up to us to pass on the word. Just call me, "Grateful (underscore) 1".
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Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 11:46 AM UTC
Grateful (underscore) 1
Flowing voice- such a sweet aria! only such arabesque allegretto beauty could ameliorate shakespeare, mozart with only mere words. Andante ambiance azure bliss blossoms when gaze meets gaze. lovely cadence your dusty rose lips whisper dulcet promises of eternity Oh eternity!- how short it does sound! But yet eternity must efflux at some time we will hold eachother in the next eternity and the one after
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Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 9:25 PM UTC
In the Gloaming
You're a song in my head I hum every night before I sleep. I want to play you on my acoustic But I'm missing a chord, Or a transition. I need to put words to you, So I can whisper-sing the lyrics Under my breath when I daydream. You resonate around my cerebral walls, Clear and deep andante when I remember being in your hands. Sometimes barely encapsulated four-four time When I think of us drifting around each other. And your agape eyes are the bridge Crescendo.. Crescendo..... Crescendo........ © NDHK
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Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 5:21 AM UTC
G minor
Movement no.1 Andante con moto Farewell. I am leaving you with the sweetness and the sadness of every creature on this earth draped over my shoulders as a shroud We rest now before the final struggle looking down upon our lives from a precipice The wind calls up a faint sound a song of healing as resignation So bring forth the dirge let dogs and oboes cue the horns as we embark upon a tender struggle We are whipped back and forth between grief and glory in this life an indifferent life lush with raw power But thankfully at the end of every day there is sleep. Movement no. 2 Im tempo eines gemächlichen Ländlers. Etwas täppisch und sehr derb. Dance returns and goes mad Who could lift a leg that high?   Not I. The music careens off the walls in a dissonant minuet of the hours The clenched teeth of each and every minute grind here as if time itself took heel and made a sparkling trace across the pines of this exalted floor of dance. Movement no. 3 Rondo Burleske: allegro assai. Sehr trotzig. A music major's delight. Fugues against fugues. Dense contrapuntal figures and sarcastic counterpoint shouting out from the back of the class. And then just love confused perhaps but real love indeed. Movement no. 4 Sehr langsam und noch zurüclhaltend The violin noblest of instruments takes its place In bitter sorrow life soon lost the fruit of the tree is extinguished the promise of green days burned by drought All is withheld. There is peace at the end but no joy the abyss is only silence and a taut string connecting us to eternity.
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Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 10:47 PM UTC
Mahler's Ninth Symphony
Movement no.1 Andante con moto Farewell. I am leaving you with the sweetness and the sadness of every creature on this earth draped over my shoulders as a shroud We rest now before the final struggle looking down upon our lives from a precipice The wind calls up a faint sound a song of healing as resignation So bring forth the dirge let dogs and oboes cue the horns as we embark upon a tender struggle We are whipped back and forth between grief and glory in this life an indifferent life lush with raw power But thankfully at the end of every day there is sleep. Movement no. 2 Im tempo eines gemächlichen Ländlers. Etwas täppisch und sehr derb. Dance returns and goes mad Who could lift a leg that high?   Not I. The music careens off the walls in a dissonant minuet of the hours The clenched teeth of each and every minute grind here as if time itself took heel and made a sparkling trace across the pines of this exalted floor of dance. Movement no. 3 Rondo Burleske: allegro assai. Sehr trotzig. A music major's delight. Fugues against fugues. Dense contrapuntal figures and sarcastic counterpoint shouting out from the back of the class. And then just love confused perhaps but real love indeed. Movement no. 4 Sehr langsam und noch zurüclhaltend The violin noblest of instruments takes its place In bitter sorrow life soon lost the fruit of the tree is extinguished the promise of green days burned by drought All is withheld. There is peace at the end but no joy the abyss is only silence and a taut string connecting us to eternity.
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81
Well hello, all, I’m your maestro ceremonious they call me Lokonious, purveyor of the odious so sit back, relax, and celebrate the… atonalness? A: Andante con fuoco We’re goin’ a cappella so let me say first your style’s ba-roke, now let’s get on with the verse you’re all up in the scale with a falsetto pitch hittin’ soprano like a castrato ***** my mind is sharp, while you’re stuck outta key my rhythm’s all natural, you can’t find a beat you need some help ’cause you’re out on your own find that ****** on a subway, the metro-nome B: Allegro con brio throw down the fermata and hold up a minute your ***** a cacophony, no way to spin it and son, i ain’t broke, my style’s all classical you just can’t register that my words are magical I spit rhymes in fantasy, can’t you see that you’re beat? And they thought an allegro was unfit for elegy A: Moderato col legno well as for your girl, it may sound corny the ***** loves my brass ’cause she’s: oh so ***** dispel your illusion, i got one more your girl’s like a crime show… easy to score B: Allegretto grazioso your intellect is minor and your insults are bassless your composition’s hardly a harmony: graceless your cymbalism’s trite, and your motif’s unknown an unfocused opus full of dissonant drones A: Affrettando agitato get out my face with your unnatural rap you spit cold air and your lyrics are flat you’ve got no harm while my canon’s a gat so work on your refrain, ‘fore I bust da cap-OOOHHHHH B: Coda pull your weak crap, ’cause you’re outta your mode such imperfect rhymes that we’re calling a cod-a no time for the fanfare, you’re trying my patience an end to your requiem, bring out the cadence So that’s their story, best not get involved their fight’s an augmented fourth: difficult to resolve
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Jun 13, 2012
Jun 13, 2012 at 5:47 PM UTC
La Battaglia
Well hello, all, I’m your maestro ceremonious they call me Lokonious, purveyor of the odious so sit back, relax, and celebrate the… atonalness? A: Andante con fuoco We’re goin’ a cappella so let me say first your style’s ba-roke, now let’s get on with the verse you’re all up in the scale with a falsetto pitch hittin’ soprano like a castrato ***** my mind is sharp, while you’re stuck outta key my rhythm’s all natural, you can’t find a beat you need some help ’cause you’re out on your own find that ****** on a subway, the metro-nome B: Allegro con brio throw down the fermata and hold up a minute your ***** a cacophony, no way to spin it and son, i ain’t broke, my style’s all classical you just can’t register that my words are magical I spit rhymes in fantasy, can’t you see that you’re beat? And they thought an allegro was unfit for elegy A: Moderato col legno well as for your girl, it may sound corny the ***** loves my brass ’cause she’s: oh so ***** dispel your illusion, i got one more your girl’s like a crime show… easy to score B: Allegretto grazioso your intellect is minor and your insults are bassless your composition’s hardly a harmony: graceless your cymbalism’s trite, and your motif’s unknown an unfocused opus full of dissonant drones A: Affrettando agitato get out my face with your unnatural rap you spit cold air and your lyrics are flat you’ve got no harm while my canon’s a gat so work on your refrain, ‘fore I bust da cap-OOOHHHHH B: Coda pull your weak crap, ’cause you’re outta your mode such imperfect rhymes that we’re calling a cod-a no time for the fanfare, you’re trying my patience an end to your requiem, bring out the cadence So that’s their story, best not get involved their fight’s an augmented fourth: difficult to resolve
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41
The cello mother of music sings peacefully from the eye of the storm A peace purchased at the price of certitude Piano provides counterpoint restrained elegant its curtains of sound dream their own dreams and a longing violin makes love to the air itself We march deliberately to this tempo stepping in time to the sweet and terrifying strains of our own mortality The composer died at thirty one years. Why - how have I lived so long? Perhaps to hear this music as if for the first time and so share it with the sky.
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May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 8:34 PM UTC
Andante con moto
She ran from me in her voyeuristic tendencies. Bespectacled in the night, she shed away her divinity this girl with a penchant for tragedy. A dramatic prelude to her kiss would be the fixations of the poet to her eyes and lips and skin. Those which he can only recall in music-- the slow andante of violin strings entangled in the coasts of her body. Come morning you wake to the tune of silence. You could never tell her those three words she longed to hear.
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Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 2:12 PM UTC
Languish
Strong, hefty dynamics with a crescendo-ing beginning Living as though you could fly You try your hardest Finally, the melody accompanied by such bewildering brass Making you believe in human flight Of the mind The soul And the mentality of each body The andante section arrives with light and graceful woodwinds Creating softer atmospheric winds Suddenly, you start to fly Spiritually, mentally There are accidentals There is cut time Running eighth notes in the woodwinds give you the energy The energy to do whatever you want Even to conquer the skies
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Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 5:45 PM UTC
To Conquer the Skies
Later tonight the back of my head will droop careful as honey leans over the edge of silver to sooth the shame of burnt toast to reach a pillow of cool flexing whispers green with the envy of roots instead of wings always waving to the heavens a sweet hello Later tonight I will find a rhythm-andante- and my sole will kiss the underside of stones changes in the pitch will be illuminated, chords will resonate around the cracks eroded in the sidewalk   for blocks and maybe the time can lead to another set of paths deeply leaning into the curves my lips make while whistling Perhaps I will build a house cradled in cherry blossoms heavy with perfume inside- a couch for thinking, neighboring blank paper eager to be reunited as always with ideas throaty breath heats the cheeks of petals and all the knots tangled with my laces will be reread and I will begin to understand, Later tonight
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Mar 26, 2012
Mar 26, 2012 at 11:04 PM UTC
Spring Evenings
Despite people constantly explainings music theory I’ve never quite grasped the concept Of different keys. Because to me Something would feel sharp and Fall flat but Be all too natural to you And I had difficulty trying to articulate what I meant to say Because we had such an interesting dynamic And dissonance is positive when done correctly, Right? Constantly, you played chords on my heart strings Like the threads wound tightly against the pegs on your guitar. Beautifully But never gently Rarely slow With some fascinating sort of Passion But not always the kind that I understood And despite believing that your interest was genuine I sometimes wondered if you got as much of a rush from Holding the curves of that wooden body close to you As you did from thriving on the attention that you got When people saw that you had the skill To manipulate something ordinary into something unique. And I’ll admit It got into my head And caused me to fret Refraining from over-analysis Has never been my forte. But somehow we always managed to bridge the gap That our differences created And accented the qualities that really made us harmonious. Hoping you would not hesitate to Pick me and Bend me and Guard me and Let the notes ring loud and frenzied and Place your hands Along my neck To let me be the fine-tuned Instrument Of your affection. With lungs andante And a heartbeat accelerando I’d leave it up to you to conduct A tempo. While the melody lead us In an entanglement of musical phrases and lyrical nonsense That all came together. I suppose. But don’t ask me why, I never understood music theory I just know what I like to hear.
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Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 1:04 AM UTC
Musician
Despite people constantly explainings music theory I’ve never quite grasped the concept Of different keys. Because to me Something would feel sharp and Fall flat but Be all too natural to you And I had difficulty trying to articulate what I meant to say Because we had such an interesting dynamic And dissonance is positive when done correctly, Right? Constantly, you played chords on my heart strings Like the threads wound tightly against the pegs on your guitar. Beautifully But never gently Rarely slow With some fascinating sort of Passion But not always the kind that I understood And despite believing that your interest was genuine I sometimes wondered if you got as much of a rush from Holding the curves of that wooden body close to you As you did from thriving on the attention that you got When people saw that you had the skill To manipulate something ordinary into something unique. And I’ll admit It got into my head And caused me to fret Refraining from over-analysis Has never been my forte. But somehow we always managed to bridge the gap That our differences created And accented the qualities that really made us harmonious. Hoping you would not hesitate to Pick me and Bend me and Guard me and Let the notes ring loud and frenzied and Place your hands Along my neck To let me be the fine-tuned Instrument Of your affection. With lungs andante And a heartbeat accelerando I’d leave it up to you to conduct A tempo. While the melody lead us In an entanglement of musical phrases and lyrical nonsense That all came together. I suppose. But don’t ask me why, I never understood music theory I just know what I like to hear.
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54
Presto, with haste, bring forth the measure, striking sound to create. Allegro, with grace, flow forth like a river, beauty in God's eternal round. Moderato, with taste, medium to the greats, note upon note, slowly mounting. Andante, with slackened pace, venerable vineyard of sound, sing forth, no appeasement for the proud. Adagio, with measured blow, The Hammer on anvil, ring out your chord, the tonic repeats below. Presto, cantabile, homunculus, the human voice, Stradivari sings to us.
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Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 3:50 PM UTC
Presto Cantabile
I'm in love with a girl And she's summer Indigo, violet and mauve I'm in a romance A symphony Andante, allegro, presto I'm spinning in passion A mystery One in body and soul I'm on a journey A destiny And tears are Making me whole
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Oct 18, 2010
Oct 18, 2010 at 7:23 PM UTC
She's Summer
(Theme, Variations, and Coda) Theme – Andante sognante   I dreamed last night... It was a dream Like one I've had before Variations on a theme My colleagues standing at my door Guitarists all, I bid them in And soon it's time to play My teacher first, each one in turn They play the night away Var. 1- Agitato But as they play I look around For my guitar is gone I look and look but cannot find Then comes my time...   “I can't go on!” This is absurd.  How can I play? (What?  Did I hide it by design? Is this my “out” as light breaks day, An ironclad alibi?) “I can't perform, no, not today. I'll have to play another time.” Var. 2 – Appassionato My time has come, and there I sit With my guitar in hand And wonder what the hell to play My mind a porous shifting sand Completely unprepared I sit And pray for intervention I make up some simplistic **** And play it with “emotion” Var. 3 – Allegro con brio e subito calamitoso This time round, it's different I really want to play. I'm ready, I'm inspired! I'll play till break of day I'll show them what I'm made of They'll marvel and they'll cry But my guitar just falls apart “What?  Why now?  Why? WHY?” The neck breaks off, the body splits, the strings are hanging limply I'm foiled again, I cannot play I'm ******* (to put it simply) Coda - Andantino Contemplativo What does it mean, this silly dream This wild subconscious spectre? What nourishment for soul to glean From such netherworldly nectar? Hmmm... I think that I should spend more time With hands on wood and string To reconnect with touch and sound To let my veiled heart sing To feel, and set those feelings free Catharsis, true release My sheepish nature put to bed My denigration now to cease For I have something bold to say Now my true voice is ready I'll sing again through wood and string Rich and full and steady Alive with truths that transcend words Ego now at bay Connecting with the universe It's time for me to play Fine
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Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 6:16 PM UTC
Dream and Variations
(Theme, Variations, and Coda) Theme – Andante sognante   I dreamed last night... It was a dream Like one I've had before Variations on a theme My colleagues standing at my door Guitarists all, I bid them in And soon it's time to play My teacher first, each one in turn They play the night away Var. 1- Agitato But as they play I look around For my guitar is gone I look and look but cannot find Then comes my time...   “I can't go on!” This is absurd.  How can I play? (What?  Did I hide it by design? Is this my “out” as light breaks day, An ironclad alibi?) “I can't perform, no, not today. I'll have to play another time.” Var. 2 – Appassionato My time has come, and there I sit With my guitar in hand And wonder what the hell to play My mind a porous shifting sand Completely unprepared I sit And pray for intervention I make up some simplistic **** And play it with “emotion” Var. 3 – Allegro con brio e subito calamitoso This time round, it's different I really want to play. I'm ready, I'm inspired! I'll play till break of day I'll show them what I'm made of They'll marvel and they'll cry But my guitar just falls apart “What?  Why now?  Why? WHY?” The neck breaks off, the body splits, the strings are hanging limply I'm foiled again, I cannot play I'm ******* (to put it simply) Coda - Andantino Contemplativo What does it mean, this silly dream This wild subconscious spectre? What nourishment for soul to glean From such netherworldly nectar? Hmmm... I think that I should spend more time With hands on wood and string To reconnect with touch and sound To let my veiled heart sing To feel, and set those feelings free Catharsis, true release My sheepish nature put to bed My denigration now to cease For I have something bold to say Now my true voice is ready I'll sing again through wood and string Rich and full and steady Alive with truths that transcend words Ego now at bay Connecting with the universe It's time for me to play Fine
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67
DESIGNIOS Andante brisa caminos y encuentros respiro aire ADALBERTO.L.NÚÑEZ Ccs 10012010
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Feb 16, 2010
Feb 16, 2010 at 4:01 AM UTC
DESIGNIOS
let me take you to church on friday nights after gin and whiskey roar ‘oh my god’ so she knows you like it take communion when my thighs greet your face - - - - taste thy gifts, which we are about to receive knees rap the hardwood floor, make you beg for mercy whisper sins in my ears, teeth bashed pillows no longer muffle crying out your confessions, repent - - - - keep it pseudo with a blindfold dip deep, deliver baptisms when i get you wet - - - - god is a woman in this bed, no more ****** mary’s metamorphose **** into holy water vocalize moans to the harmony of the gospel precise fingers conduct the choir - - - - adagio, andante, allegro - you designate reach salvation when you ****** - - - - arch your back, thy will be (un)done
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Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 9:01 PM UTC
my version of praying
Melodic perfection winds through my ears and finds my heart. Authentic purity overcomes me in the length of a cleansing sigh. I am an extension of the music. Let me fall through the lush lyrics as they slip into nothingness, chased by whispers of rhythms that bow to the soft, solo sad note. Standing alone, it is that suspended heartbreak that becomes my very salvation. I am captivated and hang motionless, unable to control the cry for solace. The silence that follows carries naught but a trembling tear. Its slow, deliberate splash deprives me of breath and depraves the scant sanctuary that is so painfully fragile. The truth is now sustained; We are the composition. Awaken what is hidden for a higher reminder and walk me, dance me, romance me to the night’s contentment. Only then do the wandering secede to the late goodbye conveyed by the instrumental vow of the final vibrato.
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Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 5:43 PM UTC
Andante
Todo cambiara algún día, no sabría si para bien o para mal, si fuera para mal no sabría vivir la vida, en cambio si fuera para bien la vida sería más fácil que respirar.  Y no hablo de plata, hablo de oro, oro puro y el único lugar donde lo puedo encontrar es en tu lindo mirar, porque tú eres bella, hermosa, brillante, que con una sonrisa tuya le alegras el día a cualquier andante, tu carácter amigable es incomparable, y tu mismo ser tan fascinante encandila cualquier otra amistad por qué tú eres inigualable, lo eres todo más que todo porque recuerda no eres plata eres oro.
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Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 12:59 AM UTC
Oro
my fingers beckoned by scents stroke her hair; as soft as silk her ******* move with gentle sighs giving more than beauty not flighting the distance while the skin shimmers as tender flowers in an open meadow her eyes play like black beads in the andante rhythm of a desiring heart hidden behind voile looking for me, in hopeless, shady smart
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Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 4:17 PM UTC
Soft silk