"asserts" poems - Hello Poetry

"asserts" poems

I slip the straps and release the clasp of your over-the-shoulder boulder holder. Gravity asserts itself, and you sigh as I wonder if I should get even bolder because The jaws of love masquerade as petals of a flower so Just say if you want me to stop. We are, after all, in the middle of a shop. I was attracted when I saw you smile. As we passed in the frozen food aisle. Now people are staring though the window. Shocked at my nonchalant innuendo. And if your purse metaphor extends to this. We can go to the Bank for a little kiss though I may not be able to afford nine feather mattresses and a golden pea. But if you could make do with a lilo and a marble then … You've pulled Princess. © Pagan Paul (30/05/17)

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May 30, 2017

May 30, 2017 at 11:54 AM UTC

Even Poets ***** Up ... Love At First Sight

I slip the straps and release the clasp of your over-the-shoulder boulder holder. Gravity asserts itself, and you sigh as I wonder if I should get even bolder because The jaws of love masquerade as petals of a flower so Just say if you want me to stop. We are, after all, in the middle of a shop. I was attracted when I saw you smile. As we passed in the frozen food aisle. Now people are staring though the window. Shocked at my nonchalant innuendo. And if your purse metaphor extends to this. We can go to the Bank for a little kiss though I may not be able to afford nine feather mattresses and a golden pea. But if you could make do with a lilo and a marble then … You've pulled Princess. © Pagan Paul (30/05/17)

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There is a new fire in my soul its curves wrap themselves around me sinuous like a hot slithery sheath of flesh snakes of pleasure twirling in my deepest womanflow pumping inside my veins of mesh Those licks of flames caress as they spew they **** in my spirit spit it out anew undulating hips matching my own a middle east song igniting my bones suffusing my blood with the raw, the bare filling me up with sparkling lava, so rare This combination makes for a recipe hot like a piquant ghost pepper in my spiciest spot Now let me weave words Let me conjure your liquids let me drench colors upon your eyelids, my spirit's proximity vivid Let me drown you in madness in frothiest frequencies of love let this symphony play out powers screeching above and as this vivacity beckons the soul in your eyes our stormiest spirals will spill out rainbow fire and rise for as we grow and reach out there is a death of limitation as freedom breaks out in ocean-soaked emancipation Our mutual worlds heal each other's hurts as my tongue licks your wounds rejuvenation asserts hot springs of lifeflow filling up cells sensations of textures a ringing of bells So as I weave this spell around you fear not that you will disappear or thine own self lose for we have only to soar as we coax out the muse

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Nov 27, 2016

Nov 27, 2016 at 6:06 PM UTC

seducing the muse

There is a new fire in my soul its curves wrap themselves around me sinuous like a hot slithery sheath of flesh snakes of pleasure twirling in my deepest womanflow pumping inside my veins of mesh Those licks of flames caress as they spew they **** in my spirit spit it out anew undulating hips matching my own a middle east song igniting my bones suffusing my blood with the raw, the bare filling me up with sparkling lava, so rare This combination makes for a recipe hot like a piquant ghost pepper in my spiciest spot Now let me weave words Let me conjure your liquids let me drench colors upon your eyelids, my spirit's proximity vivid Let me drown you in madness in frothiest frequencies of love let this symphony play out powers screeching above and as this vivacity beckons the soul in your eyes our stormiest spirals will spill out rainbow fire and rise for as we grow and reach out there is a death of limitation as freedom breaks out in ocean-soaked emancipation Our mutual worlds heal each other's hurts as my tongue licks your wounds rejuvenation asserts hot springs of lifeflow filling up cells sensations of textures a ringing of bells So as I weave this spell around you fear not that you will disappear or thine own self lose for we have only to soar as we coax out the muse

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Last Night; I dreamt of children smoking cigarettes; I dreamt of kids committing ****** arson, and human trafficking. Last Night, I dreamt of a hyperbolic ********** of Innocence that our culture so unflinchingly asserts from so ruthlessly young an Age.

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Aug 24, 2013

Aug 24, 2013 at 2:39 PM UTC

Anubis-the-Philosomancer

Last Night; I dreamt of children smoking cigarettes; I dreamt of kids committing ****** arson, and human trafficking. Last Night, I dreamt of a hyperbolic ********** of Innocence that our culture so unflinchingly asserts from so ruthlessly young an Age.

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Does evil exist? Well, does it, or not? I demand an answer And if it does, hold that thought Because if wrong does exist We must face the reality That calling something wrong means There's a right way things ought to be But if wrong does not truly Exist in bright colors Well, what, then is justice But a meaningless construct? If the **** of a child In all histories and cultures Can be called pure evil Even by society's worst prisoners If the ****** of innocents Is forever and always An evil in society That can't be tolerated If imprisonment of a woman Like chattel for sale Being held as a *** slave In her own private hell Or murdering Jews Like Hitler's evil plan Or starving millions unjustly In Stalin's Ukraine Or killing the masses For political expedience Culling babies in China Or locking up dissidents If beheading of heretics Is inherently wrong Or even violating your privacy Or invading your home If these are universally bad And there's meaning in words Then there's universal good That our souls are drawn toward Something more than just philosophy Because that lacks authority And if good is defined by the majority Then what about the minority? Tyrants run roughshod When rights come and go At the whims of the powerful Because what they say goes No, evil is something More than laws, or from cultures Or philosophical sophistry From ivory towers To try to stop badness Is really to defend That there's a god of pure goodness Who wants us like him We can discuss who that god is And what is his substance But the least we can do Is acknowledge his existence You can say that religion Starts evil wars and such And you might just be right But you've just proved too much Because if there is no god Whose nature defines goodness Who are you to call war bad Or **** evil, or hate, darkness? Who are you to sit in judgment Of the religious who you think hate you? If there is no moral standard That makes hate wrong, and judging too? If morality is nothing more Than just a social contract Then it's just he said/she said And there's no moral compass You see, your compass is as good as mine And that may be fine, generally Until the ****** asserts his own Warped idea of morality What makes his wrong And yours universally right? That's a tough question That keeps philosophers up at night Because indeed, if there is no god There's no guilt to assuage For the wrongs that man does Because there is no such gauge It's like measuring empty Without knowing what full is Or like trying to describe love Without knowing who God is

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Jun 24, 2014

Jun 24, 2014 at 6:59 PM UTC

Does evil exist?

Does evil exist? Well, does it, or not? I demand an answer And if it does, hold that thought Because if wrong does exist We must face the reality That calling something wrong means There's a right way things ought to be But if wrong does not truly Exist in bright colors Well, what, then is justice But a meaningless construct? If the **** of a child In all histories and cultures Can be called pure evil Even by society's worst prisoners If the ****** of innocents Is forever and always An evil in society That can't be tolerated If imprisonment of a woman Like chattel for sale Being held as a *** slave In her own private hell Or murdering Jews Like Hitler's evil plan Or starving millions unjustly In Stalin's Ukraine Or killing the masses For political expedience Culling babies in China Or locking up dissidents If beheading of heretics Is inherently wrong Or even violating your privacy Or invading your home If these are universally bad And there's meaning in words Then there's universal good That our souls are drawn toward Something more than just philosophy Because that lacks authority And if good is defined by the majority Then what about the minority? Tyrants run roughshod When rights come and go At the whims of the powerful Because what they say goes No, evil is something More than laws, or from cultures Or philosophical sophistry From ivory towers To try to stop badness Is really to defend That there's a god of pure goodness Who wants us like him We can discuss who that god is And what is his substance But the least we can do Is acknowledge his existence You can say that religion Starts evil wars and such And you might just be right But you've just proved too much Because if there is no god Whose nature defines goodness Who are you to call war bad Or **** evil, or hate, darkness? Who are you to sit in judgment Of the religious who you think hate you? If there is no moral standard That makes hate wrong, and judging too? If morality is nothing more Than just a social contract Then it's just he said/she said And there's no moral compass You see, your compass is as good as mine And that may be fine, generally Until the ****** asserts his own Warped idea of morality What makes his wrong And yours universally right? That's a tough question That keeps philosophers up at night Because indeed, if there is no god There's no guilt to assuage For the wrongs that man does Because there is no such gauge It's like measuring empty Without knowing what full is Or like trying to describe love Without knowing who God is

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It is so measured that rising arpeggio, only to fall and rise again in quicker values, through the dominant seventh to the heartache moment of that minor ninth, a very apogee of dissonance. Then it goes higher still to the fifth, holding to that Phrygian harmony before returning to the tonic minor and a measured fall in the bass. This is a deliberate descent to the sub-mediant, and Bach’s touch of magic, the equivalence with the dominant minor ninth. But then he gives us hope: an extended and joyful play through sequences that rise and fall within each bar, to rest finally on the mediant’s echo of that opening, that measured rise and the quickening fall. We have hardly smiled with relief when Bach pulls us back into the insecurity of the dominant of the subdominant, that V of IV acting like a bridge to a long, long discourse in the dominant, a pedal E holding firmly to itself whilst rising arpeggios and falling decorations and sequences pull and pull through innocently related keys. Longer and longer play the rising passages until short motives of imitation interrupt, treble to bass, tenor to alto, until: a first inversion arpeggio of the dominant seventh measures out the opening rhythm. This happens twice in short succession, as though holding the progress of the music to account. A questioning perhaps before a four-fold sequence asserts the dominant and a chorded caesura. There is a pregnant, though faintly resonant silence as Bach spins the dice of tonality and chooses the subdominant to bring the music towards a waiting Allemande. The music moves through a play of subdominant to dominant, minor to major, the mix of flattened fifth and flattened ninth. It is those intervals that determine Bach as the father of ambiguity in the 20C school of jazz harmony, Arpeggio then a falling scale, and repeat and repeat again, but moving ever higher by sequence. At last five chords – merely a shorthand for closure via the expectation of a right display of the performer’s improvisatory prowess. They prepare us reverently for the tonic minor before the stately Allemande leads the music into the elegant steps of its walking dance.

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Jan 5, 2013

Jan 5, 2013 at 3:13 AM UTC

On playing the Prelude from Bach’s Second Suite for Violoncello

It is so measured that rising arpeggio, only to fall and rise again in quicker values, through the dominant seventh to the heartache moment of that minor ninth, a very apogee of dissonance. Then it goes higher still to the fifth, holding to that Phrygian harmony before returning to the tonic minor and a measured fall in the bass. This is a deliberate descent to the sub-mediant, and Bach’s touch of magic, the equivalence with the dominant minor ninth. But then he gives us hope: an extended and joyful play through sequences that rise and fall within each bar, to rest finally on the mediant’s echo of that opening, that measured rise and the quickening fall. We have hardly smiled with relief when Bach pulls us back into the insecurity of the dominant of the subdominant, that V of IV acting like a bridge to a long, long discourse in the dominant, a pedal E holding firmly to itself whilst rising arpeggios and falling decorations and sequences pull and pull through innocently related keys. Longer and longer play the rising passages until short motives of imitation interrupt, treble to bass, tenor to alto, until: a first inversion arpeggio of the dominant seventh measures out the opening rhythm. This happens twice in short succession, as though holding the progress of the music to account. A questioning perhaps before a four-fold sequence asserts the dominant and a chorded caesura. There is a pregnant, though faintly resonant silence as Bach spins the dice of tonality and chooses the subdominant to bring the music towards a waiting Allemande. The music moves through a play of subdominant to dominant, minor to major, the mix of flattened fifth and flattened ninth. It is those intervals that determine Bach as the father of ambiguity in the 20C school of jazz harmony, Arpeggio then a falling scale, and repeat and repeat again, but moving ever higher by sequence. At last five chords – merely a shorthand for closure via the expectation of a right display of the performer’s improvisatory prowess. They prepare us reverently for the tonic minor before the stately Allemande leads the music into the elegant steps of its walking dance.

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The clock disserts on punctuation, syntax. The clock's voice, thin and dry, asserts, repeats. The clock insists: a lecturer demonstrating, Loudly, with finger raised, when the class has gone. But time flows through the room, light flows through the room Like someone picking flowers, like someone whistling Without a tune, like talk in front of a fire, Like a woman knitting or a child snipping at paper.

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3.3k

A. S. J. Tessimond

The clock disserts on punctuation, syntax. The clock's voice, thin and dry, asserts, repeats. The clock insists: a lecturer demonstrating, Loudly, with finger raised, when the class has gone. But time flows through the room, light flows through the room Like someone picking flowers, like someone whistling Without a tune, like talk in front of a fire, Like a woman knitting or a child snipping at paper.

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The Israelites (/ˈɪzriəlaɪts/; Hebrew: בני ישראל‎ Bnei Yisra'el) were a confederation of Iron Age Semitic-speaking tribes of the ancient Near East inhabiting parts of Canaan during the tribal & monarchic periods; Modern archaeology has largely discarded the historicity of the Jewish religious narrative; re-framing it as constituting an inspired national myth: The Israelites & their culture according to modern archaeological accounts, did not overtake the region by force, instead branching out from the indigenous [Canaanite peoples long inhabiting the Southern Levant, Syria, ancient Israel, and the Trans-Jordan region] through the development of a distinct _monolatristic_— [_Monolatry_ (Greek: μόνος (monos) = single, and λατρεία (latreia) = worship) is the belief in the existence of many gods but with the consistent worship of the one deity; the term "monolatry" was perhaps first used by Julius Wellhausen; Modern scholars of Israel's religion have become much more circumspect in how they use the Old Testament; not least because many have concluded the Bible is not a reliable witness to the true religion of ancient Israel and Judah; representing the beliefs of only a small segment of the ancient community _centered in Jerusalem_ & devoted to the exclusive worship of the god "Yahweh": Monolatry is distinct from monotheism, which asserts the existence of only one god; and henotheism, a religious system in which the believer worships one god w/out denying that others may worship different gods with equal validity]; later cementing as a monotheistic religion centered on Yahweh, one of the Ancient Canaanite deities; the outgrowth of Yahweh-centric beliefs along with a number of cult practices gradually gave rise to a distinct Israelite ethnic group setting them apart from the other Canaanites

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Jul 21, 2018

Jul 21, 2018 at 4:28 PM UTC

The Israelites (/ˈɪzriəlaɪts/; Hebrew: בני ישראל Bnei Yisra'el)

The Israelites (/ˈɪzriəlaɪts/; Hebrew: בני ישראל‎ Bnei Yisra'el) were a confederation of Iron Age Semitic-speaking tribes of the ancient Near East inhabiting parts of Canaan during the tribal & monarchic periods; Modern archaeology has largely discarded the historicity of the Jewish religious narrative; re-framing it as constituting an inspired national myth: The Israelites & their culture according to modern archaeological accounts, did not overtake the region by force, instead branching out from the indigenous [Canaanite peoples long inhabiting the Southern Levant, Syria, ancient Israel, and the Trans-Jordan region] through the development of a distinct _monolatristic_— [_Monolatry_ (Greek: μόνος (monos) = single, and λατρεία (latreia) = worship) is the belief in the existence of many gods but with the consistent worship of the one deity; the term "monolatry" was perhaps first used by Julius Wellhausen; Modern scholars of Israel's religion have become much more circumspect in how they use the Old Testament; not least because many have concluded the Bible is not a reliable witness to the true religion of ancient Israel and Judah; representing the beliefs of only a small segment of the ancient community _centered in Jerusalem_ & devoted to the exclusive worship of the god "Yahweh": Monolatry is distinct from monotheism, which asserts the existence of only one god; and henotheism, a religious system in which the believer worships one god w/out denying that others may worship different gods with equal validity]; later cementing as a monotheistic religion centered on Yahweh, one of the Ancient Canaanite deities; the outgrowth of Yahweh-centric beliefs along with a number of cult practices gradually gave rise to a distinct Israelite ethnic group setting them apart from the other Canaanites

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She sat on the sofa ... crying, moaning, sighing She worked in the kitchen ... cook, clean, shine She took care of her babies ... mommy this, mommy that She is a good lady they say ... (voiceless, opinion less, trophy-like) . ... Who Is She? A nobody ... That's what they call her. A nobody What are her thoughts? Nothing ... They comment. Who cares! Lack of education? Maybe. Not much of IQ? Probably ... STOP IT!!! She cries ... I'm human. I'm a person ... I'm .. Me .. Whatever that is Who are you to judge? Nobody. How does your opinion matter? It doesn't ... She asserts. Who cares! I'm a woman ... she smiles. I'm wonderful ... creative, beautiful, fine I'm happy with what I have ... love, home, life I am complete!

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May 18, 2014

May 18, 2014 at 10:26 AM UTC

megha-chakraborty

She sat on the sofa ... crying, moaning, sighing She worked in the kitchen ... cook, clean, shine She took care of her babies ... mommy this, mommy that She is a good lady they say ... (voiceless, opinion less, trophy-like) . ... Who Is She? A nobody ... That's what they call her. A nobody What are her thoughts? Nothing ... They comment. Who cares! Lack of education? Maybe. Not much of IQ? Probably ... STOP IT!!! She cries ... I'm human. I'm a person ... I'm .. Me .. Whatever that is Who are you to judge? Nobody. How does your opinion matter? It doesn't ... She asserts. Who cares! I'm a woman ... she smiles. I'm wonderful ... creative, beautiful, fine I'm happy with what I have ... love, home, life I am complete!

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Waldwick.Sometimes they fail to meet their expectation or companies providing Health Insurance for Independent Contractors do not show that much interest in making the right policy for them,Nothing is more disappointing than installing an ink cartridge that you bought months ago and discovering that it's gone bad,Sometimes.esta posicion tiene la raz natural de que al eyacular el hombre el flujo de ***** se va a ir hacia lo profundo y ayudado por la fuerza de gravedad, If you have a short torso.The hero has already given us a successful advanced map,The love and the memories last forever.because everyone will notice this Samsung galaxy s6 64GB. Loud bag,Another Advantage of booking for a taxi service is that it saves you from the trouble of hailing a taxi on the road Samsung galaxy s5 64GB.Have you ever ponder that may be it is due to your pitra dosa which your family is suffering since a long time,everybody differs.and they are happy to leave this to luck.you are imposing great danger to your health, The treated blood was used for the Sangre de Toro port folio Samsung galaxy s6 edge.with a puny upper body.learning the ropes won't be that difficult so you don't have to be discouraged,Woman should keep the excitement going with having her own life. And not being always available for him.The women characters of her novels are concerned with the fundamental question the lot of women Her stifled self respect asserts itself In her dance of triumph at the supposed loss of manliness by Baroka and in her attempt to celebrate it by a mummer show This year will bring a lot of positive changes in your life,and family and friends that helped organize the wedding is appropriate in the closing lines of your speech,etc.gang related Activity,Therefore.4 and 11,since it means that while most drug tests can only turn up evidence of other drugs. Relate Articles: http://samsung.measuredvideo.com/

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Sep 7, 2015

Sep 7, 2015 at 5:43 AM UTC

Cheap Samsung galaxy whole sale low price

Waldwick.Sometimes they fail to meet their expectation or companies providing Health Insurance for Independent Contractors do not show that much interest in making the right policy for them,Nothing is more disappointing than installing an ink cartridge that you bought months ago and discovering that it's gone bad,Sometimes.esta posicion tiene la raz natural de que al eyacular el hombre el flujo de ***** se va a ir hacia lo profundo y ayudado por la fuerza de gravedad, If you have a short torso.The hero has already given us a successful advanced map,The love and the memories last forever.because everyone will notice this Samsung galaxy s6 64GB. Loud bag,Another Advantage of booking for a taxi service is that it saves you from the trouble of hailing a taxi on the road Samsung galaxy s5 64GB.Have you ever ponder that may be it is due to your pitra dosa which your family is suffering since a long time,everybody differs.and they are happy to leave this to luck.you are imposing great danger to your health, The treated blood was used for the Sangre de Toro port folio Samsung galaxy s6 edge.with a puny upper body.learning the ropes won't be that difficult so you don't have to be discouraged,Woman should keep the excitement going with having her own life. And not being always available for him.The women characters of her novels are concerned with the fundamental question the lot of women Her stifled self respect asserts itself In her dance of triumph at the supposed loss of manliness by Baroka and in her attempt to celebrate it by a mummer show This year will bring a lot of positive changes in your life,and family and friends that helped organize the wedding is appropriate in the closing lines of your speech,etc.gang related Activity,Therefore.4 and 11,since it means that while most drug tests can only turn up evidence of other drugs. Relate Articles: http://samsung.measuredvideo.com/

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. •• •• •••••• •••••• •••• ••• ••• •••• •••• •••• ••••• ••••• ••••• ••••• **•in your world, your man with the addiction rules • he's all fists with a mind of a hundred mules• daily he takes to the bottle • then atte ntion to you, he asserts his ugly mettle•i know he is pummelling you out of your senses• you can't hide your tears... and brui- ses behind those** darkened lenses•

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Dec 3, 2015

Dec 3, 2015 at 10:42 AM UTC

Behind Those Shades

. •• •• •••••• •••••• •••• ••• ••• •••• •••• •••• ••••• ••••• ••••• ••••• **•in your world, your man with the addiction rules • he's all fists with a mind of a hundred mules• daily he takes to the bottle • then atte ntion to you, he asserts his ugly mettle•i know he is pummelling you out of your senses• you can't hide your tears... and brui- ses behind those** darkened lenses•

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Open the book and BAM!!! Right in the face Screams Chapter One "SHE STOOD BY THE WINDOW AS RAIN DRENCHED HER POODLE" Begin to wonder Why her poodle is outside Is it a punishment? Is there a jail poodle among us? The megaphone changes hands And Chapter Two asserts "WELCOME TO THE RAT RACE FRIENDS, BE SURE TO PICK UP YOUR CAP AND GOWN" At the door, you wonder Only to conclude that this Book is nonsensical, surely Or at least not for the Faint of heart

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Apr 11, 2011

Apr 11, 2011 at 1:13 PM UTC

samuel-the-poet

Chapters One and Two

Open the book and BAM!!! Right in the face Screams Chapter One "SHE STOOD BY THE WINDOW AS RAIN DRENCHED HER POODLE" Begin to wonder Why her poodle is outside Is it a punishment? Is there a jail poodle among us? The megaphone changes hands And Chapter Two asserts "WELCOME TO THE RAT RACE FRIENDS, BE SURE TO PICK UP YOUR CAP AND GOWN" At the door, you wonder Only to conclude that this Book is nonsensical, surely Or at least not for the Faint of heart

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. The forced tangent of life became an adventure that lost and so this shell sits on air reflecting a balance of the cost. There was an instant in time where the physical held its sway, pushing back the dark of years and emerging into a sunny day. But the blush of an eye moment rebuilds a visage of ancients. The turbulence of discord asserts the demise and sin of patience. © Pagan Paul (02/02/18)

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Feb 2, 2018

Feb 2, 2018 at 12:12 PM UTC

. The forced tangent of life became an adventure that lost and so this shell sits on air reflecting a balance of the cost. There was an instant in time where the physical held its sway, pushing back the dark of years and emerging into a sunny day. But the blush of an eye moment rebuilds a visage of ancients. The turbulence of discord asserts the demise and sin of patience. © Pagan Paul (02/02/18)

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Kissed his student. Punched his friend. Accused her lover. What if China's navy asserts control where our navy also patrols? Should we concede the South China Sea? Not on your life! Or maybe. Lives may be lost but so what. There's so much biomass in the crosswalks. Lord have mercy on my soul Which means bring my confusion into an expressible state before it's too late. Sal went to jail. I belong to the loved ones. Never may the anarchic man's thoughts be my thoughts. Not one. It could be cancer or just a cyst That killed Frost's considerable speck Instead of considering its considerable intelligence. Although bottomless ancient night stretches From your short life forward, remember It also stretches backward without measure. There are few straight lines in nature and only one alternative to ageing, so **** it up! Suppose everything's fine and you've wasted your time wearing sackcloth over your soul? Start now knowing joy.

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Aug 11, 2015

Aug 11, 2015 at 9:38 PM UTC

Max Joy Marries Minnie Pain

Kissed his student. Punched his friend. Accused her lover. What if China's navy asserts control where our navy also patrols? Should we concede the South China Sea? Not on your life! Or maybe. Lives may be lost but so what. There's so much biomass in the crosswalks. Lord have mercy on my soul Which means bring my confusion into an expressible state before it's too late. Sal went to jail. I belong to the loved ones. Never may the anarchic man's thoughts be my thoughts. Not one. It could be cancer or just a cyst That killed Frost's considerable speck Instead of considering its considerable intelligence. Although bottomless ancient night stretches From your short life forward, remember It also stretches backward without measure. There are few straight lines in nature and only one alternative to ageing, so **** it up! Suppose everything's fine and you've wasted your time wearing sackcloth over your soul? Start now knowing joy.

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Nature’s ebb and flow There is something about a country road time slows the soothed mind intensifies. Then border it with a line of trees in this wooded strength picturesque purity flows through the eye gate. This flood of soft emotional stirrings cast the hustle bustle of the modern life across the air like a fly fishermen easy floating fishing line follow it float along on this suspended timelessness you will find yourself unconsciously holding your breath in anticipation of the cast as it lays down on the water. A fish strike would be icing on the cake almost anti climatic not quiet though when the trout jerks his head back and forth putting his whole electrified cold stream lived life into the fight. In this wooded chill a campfire ignites the smoke rises the kindling releases energy its inner life warmth pushes back the cold. You set look into the leaping flames transfixed deep moody thoughts begin to enter your thoughts the most extravagant furnished palace does not compare the tame and wild intermingle you truly at that moment are the true lord of the wood not only brawn but the mind comes to full potential. You’re not trying to solve problems you’re a great spool the soft darkness does the pulling knots kinks disappear you wonder about all the apprehensions you thought you brought it must have been foolishness parading as actual problems. When you thought it couldn’t be any more perfect there they were the night sky with silver points overload begins when they stretch so far you feel the very weight of heaven as it asserts its supremacy the night air filled with a tangible burden of weight this is only the blanket that was stored during the day now angels imperceptibly have rolled it across the four corners of heaven. The night wind speaks mysteries at their center a stoking fire of its own not a fire of heat and flame but one banked just the same. The drifting sifting sand that mortals find impossible to resist soon in deepest wool like sheepclothed you sleep while the Sheppard stands beyond the fire light keeping watch sleep my child no harm will disturb He rules the mighty sea and harder the egos of angry men to you he will be your peace is he not the prince of peace.

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Nov 17, 2011

Nov 17, 2011 at 4:35 AM UTC

hal-loyd-denton

Nature's Ebb and Flow

Nature’s ebb and flow There is something about a country road time slows the soothed mind intensifies. Then border it with a line of trees in this wooded strength picturesque purity flows through the eye gate. This flood of soft emotional stirrings cast the hustle bustle of the modern life across the air like a fly fishermen easy floating fishing line follow it float along on this suspended timelessness you will find yourself unconsciously holding your breath in anticipation of the cast as it lays down on the water. A fish strike would be icing on the cake almost anti climatic not quiet though when the trout jerks his head back and forth putting his whole electrified cold stream lived life into the fight. In this wooded chill a campfire ignites the smoke rises the kindling releases energy its inner life warmth pushes back the cold. You set look into the leaping flames transfixed deep moody thoughts begin to enter your thoughts the most extravagant furnished palace does not compare the tame and wild intermingle you truly at that moment are the true lord of the wood not only brawn but the mind comes to full potential. You’re not trying to solve problems you’re a great spool the soft darkness does the pulling knots kinks disappear you wonder about all the apprehensions you thought you brought it must have been foolishness parading as actual problems. When you thought it couldn’t be any more perfect there they were the night sky with silver points overload begins when they stretch so far you feel the very weight of heaven as it asserts its supremacy the night air filled with a tangible burden of weight this is only the blanket that was stored during the day now angels imperceptibly have rolled it across the four corners of heaven. The night wind speaks mysteries at their center a stoking fire of its own not a fire of heat and flame but one banked just the same. The drifting sifting sand that mortals find impossible to resist soon in deepest wool like sheepclothed you sleep while the Sheppard stands beyond the fire light keeping watch sleep my child no harm will disturb He rules the mighty sea and harder the egos of angry men to you he will be your peace is he not the prince of peace.

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she is incorrigibly fond of that four letter word, but, an unimpeachable one accept, even the prudes, "Love" she asserts, is the best four letter word ever.

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Jan 8, 2012

Jan 8, 2012 at 12:56 PM UTC

she loves that four letter word.

she is incorrigibly fond of that four letter word, but, an unimpeachable one accept, even the prudes, "Love" she asserts, is the best four letter word ever.

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if two butterflies lock together in the air sharing their color in a wild embrace their wings, their hearts, seem to fly fast faster than before and they will be faster forever more i am sure 2 wings and 2 wings now four wings four lips two to a body who are entangled together making one entity living in a moment where when one half of you breathes the other becomes breathless the air stolen but if asked for it would have been given upon request even insisted upon that one takes it and the other wouldn't resist i insist, because my whole life is written nowhere and is only spoken word of mouth let me share my story with you and just for a second my one story your one history will bloom into understanding through the courting gesture of word of mouth its a language all its own, written only upon shower mirrors when we feel the most alone with the imprint of nervous energy, before we begin realizing that we cannot do our language justice through writing or even story telling we must be story experiencing story weaving, and story dancing with our tongues in ballrooms switching leads, and songs and dances lit only by the warmth of the fireplace lit by the gentle swaying of our embrace and the taste! it tastes like conversation patient and understanding conversation amid the dancing and the lights of a masquerade where participation is not mandatory because you always find your own motivation and all of this started with a look the one look, the one comment "you really look beautiful tonight" your hearts don a mask, gain a rhythm, and step two steps closer "why thank you" your heart extends a rose and is favorably taken, a hand is taken, the dance begins "especially in this light, right here" your heart asserts a pose, and waits for the music "no one's ever said that before" the music plays and it leans in for its partners hands "well...." young hearts lose themselves, a slave to their own slave, as their mask falls to reveal a face and they dance once more just like dancing a kiss reveals everything every sad song that brings you pain every time youve danced in the rain to dismantle some inner child every time you've fought the plain and the innocent and how innocent your lips have been where they belong mine belong in forests, spontaneously and under street lamps and in places i have not yet discovered could hold in a moment of such utter bliss but my next kiss, will be there my body lies prepared and i swear i will not miss but if i do it only means my wings could not fly faster with your wings

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Oct 9, 2012

Oct 9, 2012 at 2:16 AM UTC

On the subject of a Kiss

if two butterflies lock together in the air sharing their color in a wild embrace their wings, their hearts, seem to fly fast faster than before and they will be faster forever more i am sure 2 wings and 2 wings now four wings four lips two to a body who are entangled together making one entity living in a moment where when one half of you breathes the other becomes breathless the air stolen but if asked for it would have been given upon request even insisted upon that one takes it and the other wouldn't resist i insist, because my whole life is written nowhere and is only spoken word of mouth let me share my story with you and just for a second my one story your one history will bloom into understanding through the courting gesture of word of mouth its a language all its own, written only upon shower mirrors when we feel the most alone with the imprint of nervous energy, before we begin realizing that we cannot do our language justice through writing or even story telling we must be story experiencing story weaving, and story dancing with our tongues in ballrooms switching leads, and songs and dances lit only by the warmth of the fireplace lit by the gentle swaying of our embrace and the taste! it tastes like conversation patient and understanding conversation amid the dancing and the lights of a masquerade where participation is not mandatory because you always find your own motivation and all of this started with a look the one look, the one comment "you really look beautiful tonight" your hearts don a mask, gain a rhythm, and step two steps closer "why thank you" your heart extends a rose and is favorably taken, a hand is taken, the dance begins "especially in this light, right here" your heart asserts a pose, and waits for the music "no one's ever said that before" the music plays and it leans in for its partners hands "well...." young hearts lose themselves, a slave to their own slave, as their mask falls to reveal a face and they dance once more just like dancing a kiss reveals everything every sad song that brings you pain every time youve danced in the rain to dismantle some inner child every time you've fought the plain and the innocent and how innocent your lips have been where they belong mine belong in forests, spontaneously and under street lamps and in places i have not yet discovered could hold in a moment of such utter bliss but my next kiss, will be there my body lies prepared and i swear i will not miss but if i do it only means my wings could not fly faster with your wings

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On xanax, I want to save the world. See it, save it, savour the lady who tells me it's 'jargon,' the newspaper. It's 'jargon,' all those books you don't understand and thus return to the library. 'Jargon, jargon. All-right, fair enough, have a good night.' A blustering, fat -bodied strangeman, walks in, talks of homeless hairies who cut in front of him at McDonald's, rudely assert their desperation with greasy foreign hair basing down the nape of their neck, beseech the poor fat ******* to his last-straw tossed toward a health minister who won't 'speak for himself' but has his secretary 'speak for him.' what the hell is that? he asserts, face in a squeeze- pause and a left-side lazy eye bowing offward, 'ridiculous, disgusting.' 'well, I hope you have a good night, take care, sir.'

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May 3, 2014

May 3, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC

On xanax, I want to save the world. See it, save it, savour the lady who tells me it's 'jargon,' the newspaper. It's 'jargon,' all those books you don't understand and thus return to the library. 'Jargon, jargon. All-right, fair enough, have a good night.' A blustering, fat -bodied strangeman, walks in, talks of homeless hairies who cut in front of him at McDonald's, rudely assert their desperation with greasy foreign hair basing down the nape of their neck, beseech the poor fat ******* to his last-straw tossed toward a health minister who won't 'speak for himself' but has his secretary 'speak for him.' what the hell is that? he asserts, face in a squeeze- pause and a left-side lazy eye bowing offward, 'ridiculous, disgusting.' 'well, I hope you have a good night, take care, sir.'

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Spoken: What is heard The adornment, gospel truths the pious believers of your personal faith. The Heresy, the voice of those you’ve ****** Spoken: That which can not be taken back Your frivolous certainties had no hold but now frame our reality because they are always in the peripheral only seeing what it allows you Spoken: half truths The victimized, the wronged, the offended just to validate unscrupulous act to those who have wronged you. Spoken: White lies The coddling which breeds an ignorance for the knowledge of decorum, decorations and vails to hid behind Spoken: That which the universe asserts That which the universe listens to, vibrations that it assimilates making it part of the whole without losing its agenda

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Dec 28, 2017

Dec 28, 2017 at 12:48 PM UTC

Spoken: What is heard The adornment, gospel truths the pious believers of your personal faith. The Heresy, the voice of those you’ve ****** Spoken: That which can not be taken back Your frivolous certainties had no hold but now frame our reality because they are always in the peripheral only seeing what it allows you Spoken: half truths The victimized, the wronged, the offended just to validate unscrupulous act to those who have wronged you. Spoken: White lies The coddling which breeds an ignorance for the knowledge of decorum, decorations and vails to hid behind Spoken: That which the universe asserts That which the universe listens to, vibrations that it assimilates making it part of the whole without losing its agenda

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I often wonder, sometimes, if I’m pretty. My mother and friends will tell me it’s a silly question, but is it? And what is the answer I’m looking for? I know the way my hair, in russet mantle clad, springs down my back is pleasing to the eye (at least to mine). I know the way my tall figure—yet not like a statue or a pillar— asserts itself into the open air, similar to a curved vase—at times smiling, at times the sudden night. My hands, perfect for piano playing as grandpa always said, are long stalks of wheat that reach toward heaven, wait- ing to be reaped. My eyes, green when choleric and hazel when stable, are the exclamation points and periods of my face—who could interpret my action-prose without them? And my face… my face…what do I think of you? Are you pretty? Even beautiful? I can answer this question on my own— without a lover’s flattering tongue. Face, you are like my heart— blemished of course, but still clean and pleasant. There is indeed a beauty in your length and modest smile—a forehead too high like my pride—but still, balanced—but still, pretty.

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Mar 31, 2012

Mar 31, 2012 at 5:06 PM UTC

rachel-thompson

I often wonder, sometimes, if I’m pretty. My mother and friends will tell me it’s a silly question, but is it? And what is the answer I’m looking for? I know the way my hair, in russet mantle clad, springs down my back is pleasing to the eye (at least to mine). I know the way my tall figure—yet not like a statue or a pillar— asserts itself into the open air, similar to a curved vase—at times smiling, at times the sudden night. My hands, perfect for piano playing as grandpa always said, are long stalks of wheat that reach toward heaven, wait- ing to be reaped. My eyes, green when choleric and hazel when stable, are the exclamation points and periods of my face—who could interpret my action-prose without them? And my face… my face…what do I think of you? Are you pretty? Even beautiful? I can answer this question on my own— without a lover’s flattering tongue. Face, you are like my heart— blemished of course, but still clean and pleasant. There is indeed a beauty in your length and modest smile—a forehead too high like my pride—but still, balanced—but still, pretty.

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There is something about a country road time slows the soothed mind intensifies. Then border it with a line of trees in this wooded strength picturesque purity flows through the eye gate. This flood of soft emotional stirrings cast the hustle bustle of the modern life across the air like a fly fishermen easy floating fishing line follow it float along on this suspended timelessness you will find yourself unconsciously holding your breath in anticipation of the cast as it lays down on the water. A fish strike would be icing on the cake almost anti climatic not quiet though when the trout jerks his head back and forth putting his whole electrified cold stream lived life into the fight. In this wooded chill a campfire ignites the smoke rises the kindling releases energy its inner life warmth pushes back the cold. You set look into the leaping flames transfixed deep moody thoughts begin to enter your thoughts the most extravagant furnished palace does not compare the tame and wild intermingle you truly at that moment are the true lord of the wood not only brawn but the mind comes to full potential. You’re not trying to solve problems you’re a great spool the soft darkness does the pulling knots kinks disappear you wonder about all the apprehensions you thought you brought it must have been foolishness parading as actual problems. When you thought it couldn’t be any more perfect there they were the night sky with silver points overload begins when they stretch so far you feel the very weight of heaven as it asserts its supremacy the night air filled with a tangible burden of weight this is only the blanket that was stored during the day now angels imperceptibly have rolled it across the four corners of heaven. The night wind speaks mysteries at their center a stoking fire of its own not a fire of heat and flame but one banked just the same. The drifting sifting sand that mortals find impossible to resist soon in deepest wool like sheep clothed you sleep while the Sheppard stands beyond the fire light keeping watch sleep my child no harm will disturb He rules the mighty sea and harder the egos of angry men to you he will be your peace is he not the prince of peace.

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Sep 30, 2012

Sep 30, 2012 at 10:36 PM UTC

hal-loyd-denton

Natures Ebb and Flow

There is something about a country road time slows the soothed mind intensifies. Then border it with a line of trees in this wooded strength picturesque purity flows through the eye gate. This flood of soft emotional stirrings cast the hustle bustle of the modern life across the air like a fly fishermen easy floating fishing line follow it float along on this suspended timelessness you will find yourself unconsciously holding your breath in anticipation of the cast as it lays down on the water. A fish strike would be icing on the cake almost anti climatic not quiet though when the trout jerks his head back and forth putting his whole electrified cold stream lived life into the fight. In this wooded chill a campfire ignites the smoke rises the kindling releases energy its inner life warmth pushes back the cold. You set look into the leaping flames transfixed deep moody thoughts begin to enter your thoughts the most extravagant furnished palace does not compare the tame and wild intermingle you truly at that moment are the true lord of the wood not only brawn but the mind comes to full potential. You’re not trying to solve problems you’re a great spool the soft darkness does the pulling knots kinks disappear you wonder about all the apprehensions you thought you brought it must have been foolishness parading as actual problems. When you thought it couldn’t be any more perfect there they were the night sky with silver points overload begins when they stretch so far you feel the very weight of heaven as it asserts its supremacy the night air filled with a tangible burden of weight this is only the blanket that was stored during the day now angels imperceptibly have rolled it across the four corners of heaven. The night wind speaks mysteries at their center a stoking fire of its own not a fire of heat and flame but one banked just the same. The drifting sifting sand that mortals find impossible to resist soon in deepest wool like sheep clothed you sleep while the Sheppard stands beyond the fire light keeping watch sleep my child no harm will disturb He rules the mighty sea and harder the egos of angry men to you he will be your peace is he not the prince of peace.

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Piercing the shrouded sky They fight against surrounding black: Like flowers breaking through sidewalk cracks, The light seeps through the darkness. Between the leaves The stars reach for the eyes… But now thought reaches away: I escape myself through abstraction As the past violently asserts itself: Remembrance induced by a careless focus On a memory flowing from a present vision: The tree now Clothed in leaves Beckons forth remembrance: *Autumn leaves, Trundling into legs only to move past As they ride the restless winds Whispering their own poems Of meaning only experience could collect… They rush Through fallow ditches And enclosing brush which Form a pattern around The tree that beckons forth - With disrobed branches glistening White under stars, Dampened by the still-settling dew- A Self-realization that obliterates all boundaries And encompasses no thoughts, but the One which gives them: The One which gives a breath Held together by the moments Which trail the first puff of white that joins the airs that wrap themselves around the tree reaching up to the stars which do not reflect the one who sees them but give the light towards which thought now reaches.* All these memories induce The longing to feel the openness No words could possibly posses As slowly the months fade Into the dissolving moments it takes For the eyes to reach up to the light.

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Oct 11, 2011

Oct 11, 2011 at 6:06 PM UTC

Piercing the shrouded sky They fight against surrounding black: Like flowers breaking through sidewalk cracks, The light seeps through the darkness. Between the leaves The stars reach for the eyes… But now thought reaches away: I escape myself through abstraction As the past violently asserts itself: Remembrance induced by a careless focus On a memory flowing from a present vision: The tree now Clothed in leaves Beckons forth remembrance: *Autumn leaves, Trundling into legs only to move past As they ride the restless winds Whispering their own poems Of meaning only experience could collect… They rush Through fallow ditches And enclosing brush which Form a pattern around The tree that beckons forth - With disrobed branches glistening White under stars, Dampened by the still-settling dew- A Self-realization that obliterates all boundaries And encompasses no thoughts, but the One which gives them: The One which gives a breath Held together by the moments Which trail the first puff of white that joins the airs that wrap themselves around the tree reaching up to the stars which do not reflect the one who sees them but give the light towards which thought now reaches.* All these memories induce The longing to feel the openness No words could possibly posses As slowly the months fade Into the dissolving moments it takes For the eyes to reach up to the light.

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There are some coins in my pocket Market asserts that ‘these are outdated’! There are some pictures in my home Viewer affirms these are antiquated! There are some books in my library Visitors avow these are passé! There are some thought Carrying with me, Like, ‘world without edge for politics, human out of religion, people in matching pace and spirit, to craft the globe to a village’! But, everyone asserts these are archaic! There some fruits in my store But , people confirmed These are perish and putrid! Comprehend now only My period is run out I am outmoded in the freshness of the world!

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Jun 25, 2014

Jun 25, 2014 at 12:58 AM UTC

jayanra-kr-sarma

There are some coins in my pocket Market asserts that ‘these are outdated’! There are some pictures in my home Viewer affirms these are antiquated! There are some books in my library Visitors avow these are passé! There are some thought Carrying with me, Like, ‘world without edge for politics, human out of religion, people in matching pace and spirit, to craft the globe to a village’! But, everyone asserts these are archaic! There some fruits in my store But , people confirmed These are perish and putrid! Comprehend now only My period is run out I am outmoded in the freshness of the world!

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what does this symbol represent..? from our conventional point of view inequality seems to rule.. materialism vociferously asserts differences are reality and acceptance expected.. it seems the real meaning of = lies hidden under our fears and desires which bring materialism front and center.. under this obscuration lies the truth: our true identity is Here...

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Aug 4, 2018

Aug 4, 2018 at 2:01 AM UTC

what does this symbol represent..? from our conventional point of view inequality seems to rule.. materialism vociferously asserts differences are reality and acceptance expected.. it seems the real meaning of = lies hidden under our fears and desires which bring materialism front and center.. under this obscuration lies the truth: our true identity is Here...

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Gary Francione on sentience. He asserts that "all sentient beings, humans or nonhuman, have one right: the basic right not to be treated as the property of others." hmmm interesting.

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Apr 23, 2012

Apr 23, 2012 at 9:17 PM UTC

fly-on-my-wall-aka-lisa

Gary Francione on sentience. He asserts that "all sentient beings, humans or nonhuman, have one right: the basic right not to be treated as the property of others." hmmm interesting.

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