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Michael R Burch Mar 2020
Hymn to Aphrodite
by Sappho
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Immortal Aphrodite, throned in splendor!
Wile-weaving daughter of Zeus, enchantress, and beguiler!
I implore you, dread mistress, discipline me no longer
with love's anguish!

But come to me once again in kindness,
heeding my prayers as you have done before;
O, come Divine One, descend once again from
heaven's golden dominions!

Your chariot yoked to love's consecrated doves,
their multitudinous pinions aflutter,
you once came gliding from the utmost heights, to
the dark-bosomed earth.

Swiftly they came and vanished, leaving you,
O my Goddess, smiling, your face eternally beautiful,
asking me what unfathomable longing compelled me
to cry out.

Asking me what I sought in my hopeless, bewildered desire.
Asking, "Who has harmed you, why are you so alarmed,
my poor Sappho? Whom should
Persuasion summon here?"

"Though today she flees love, soon she will pursue you;
spurning love's gifts, soon she shall return them;
tomorrow she will woo you,
however unwillingly!"

Come to me now, most Holy Aphrodite!
Release me from my heavy heartache and anguish;
grant me all I request, be once again
my ally and protector!

"Hymn to Aphrodite" is the only poem by Sappho of ****** to survive in its entirety. The poem survived intact because it was quoted in full by Dionysus, a Roman orator, in his "On Literary Composition," published around 30 B.C. A number of Sappho's poems mention or are addressed to Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love. It is believed that Sappho may have belonged to a cult that worshiped Aphrodite with songs and poetry. If so, "Hymn to Aphrodite" may have been composed for performance within the cult. We do know that Sappho was held in very high regard. For instance, when Sappho visited Syracuse the residents were so honored they erected a statue to commemorate the occasion! During Sappho's lifetime, coins of ****** were minted with her image. Furthermore, Sappho was called "the Tenth Muse" and the other nine were goddesses. Keywords/Tags: Sapphic, Sappho, ******, translation, ancient Greek, hymn, Aphrodite, Zeus, daughter, immortal, goddess, holy, lady, heaven, enchantress, enchantment, love potion, charm, spell, persuasion, beguiler, beguilement, mistress, discipline, *******, prayer, prayers, chariot, heaven, descent, ally, protector, lust, desire, passion, longing, ***, crush, girlfriend, women, grief
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
Hymn to Aphrodite
by Sappho (her only complete poem)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Immortal Aphrodite, throned in splendor!
Wile-weaving daughter of Zeus, enchantress, and beguiler!
I implore you, dread mistress, discipline me no longer
with love's anguish!

But come to me once again in kindness,
heeding my prayers as you have done before;
O, come Divine One, descend once again from heaven's
golden dominions!

Your chariot yoked to love's consecrated doves,
their multitudinous pinions aflutter,
you once came gliding from the utmost heights, to
this dark earth.

Swiftly they came and vanished, leaving you,
O my Goddess, smiling, your face eternally beautiful,
asking me what unfathomable longing compelled me
to cry out.

Asking me what I sought in my hopeless, bewildered desire.
Asking, "Who has harmed you, why are you so alarmed,
my poor Sappho? Whom should Persuasion
summon here?"

"Though today she flees love, soon she will pursue you;
spurning love's gifts, she soon shall return them;
tomorrow she will woo you,
however unwillingly!"

Come to me now, most Holy Aphrodite!
Release me from my heavy heartache and anguish;
grant me all I request, be once again
my ally and protector!

"Hymn to Aphrodite" is the only poem by Sappho of ****** to survive in its entirety. The poem survived intact because it was quoted in full by Dionysus, a Roman orator, in his "On Literary Composition," published around 30 B.C. A number of Sappho's poems mention or are addressed to Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love. It is believed that Sappho may have belonged to a cult that worshiped Aphrodite with songs and poetry. If so, "Hymn to Aphrodite" may have been composed for performance within the cult. We do know that Sappho was held in very high regard. For instance, when Sappho visited Syracuse the residents were so honored they erected a statue to commemorate the occasion! During Sappho's lifetime, coins of ****** were minted with her image. Furthermore, Sappho was called "the Tenth Muse" and the other nine were goddesses. Keywords/Tags: Sapphic, Sappho, ******, translation, ancient Greek, hymn, Aphrodite, Zeus, daughter, immortal, goddess, holy, lady, heaven, enchantress, enchantment, love potion, charm, spell, persuasion, beguiler, beguilement, mistress, discipline, *******, prayer, prayers, chariot, heaven, descent, ally, protector, lust, desire, passion, longing, ***, crush, girlfriend, women, grief
Jay earnest May 2017
got
up yesterday

and took
a ****

straight into a

can of heinz baked
beans

then placed
back into the freezer.

some days down
the line

an acquantence
found the beans
and took a bite
and complimented my culinary ability.


branches
were swining outside
from the coming
hurricane
and few
lizards
rolled underneat the carpet so as to escape the elements
and absorb the warmth.


suzy
is still crazy,

but she died in december.

george is ugly
like a cancerous bat-faced
ectomorph
but has a heart of gold.

larry is just a ***-

and he knows it.


but some nights
i still cuddle
with dawn
and speak to the mermaids that kiss me goodnight
as i stroke myself
to sleep
in a dull
memory
and voided
receipt that is the 'hour of beguilement'.
Alexander Klein Mar 2013
"Neither heaven nor earth will be at peace if
I don't find it on my ******* desk
before six," snarled Julius Caesar into his cell
To the smell of ubiquitous coffee.
I was blended in line, and could see all:
Caesar's smart sharkskin-grey suit clearly
Some modern beguilement to help him blend, too.
Gone were silks linens and laurels,
I only knew him from the meridians of his face
And the crash of command in his baritone;
I had known that heartfelt stone and all its loss
Grown from titanic achievement. This man
Had scaled Olympuses to clasp his wreaths
And wore them well, though stonewise. Then,

She took my shriveled paper president
Apparently to fund her mascara habit
And I went to wait in the amorphous collective
For those done waiting in line.
From even across the establishment,
Opposite the opulent armchairs,
His muffled business-curses floated with aroma
And I realized the importance of blending.
(One of their machines had broken
Which is why I had time to wonder at all.)
Without a blended beverage, beans and water are
All I'd own: one taste would destroy the other.

I can become the air and sometimes do,
When I am sick from being bean or broth,
And this was how I saw so well
His snakeskin tongue and his eagle's claws
And plights of Gaul that his face told.
All this I saw while blended, so,
He saw me not. If a bean in his coffee,
No doubt he'd grind me to clay
To better insulate his office from the wind.
(It's not that I despise malleability
But that sometimes a gust can be helpful
When waging ****** campaigns.
Also, clay cannot sing.) I sing,
When I can. I wonder what a tactician
Could know of that fragile thing called music
That graces us best when half at-rest.
Though some say that Caesar shook, thus
He may have been mad; he may have had music.

"That's not what concerns me Karen,"
Intoned the Emperor of Rome,
"You don't take responsibility when you ***** up. Yesterday--"
But I didn't hear about that because
My blended beverage was ready. So out
Into the fresh of air with my cup of cardboard,
I snuck a farewell glance through the glass
At that gracious lionskin monarch
Unblended in the coffee shop.
It seems his damning sin was zeal
And possession of a mighty stature --
And deafness to Calpurnia's fear.
Her ugly dreams I carry with me now
And hope I passed none stealthier than I,
Perhaps some well-cloaked Cassius
Or Brutus lost in hidden bravado waiting
To penetrate Caesar in the parking lot.
Connor Mar 2017
Fierce is god impenitrable
glad glad glad there is a
Fire up the street called Heaven
There is

A woman wearing only one shoe who is taking
an exhaustive drag of her smoke in the
early morning where birds are
still heard in
                                    !!!!!!cities

A hymnal a
heralded nest of savory berries A quartzstone is trapped in time a myth is made more ridiculous when proven real

Continents wither where the flies glue their

regal canvases on downtrodden earth (missing Pangea)

Or smiles everlasting smiles meanwhile
(Blonde tongues wearing fashioned wigs)
in constant state of beguilement

The Neanderthalic stones will be unforgiving to the REVEREND who has collapsed through his song the song of lead pipedream fantasies of sexless dogma YEAH monkhood yeah Ghat burning holes in twilit schools of thought or no thought at all


I can

hear the collective Faerie outcry that silence has presented itself HEAvier to their wicked careless bodies ok I am innocent of love I love your innocent love I am careless(of their wicked careless bodies)
ResemblingA swans actual duty to die
a swan lies a swan lay
like an even more beautiful swan
on even more beautiful swanny grass
To die by swanlightSUN and MOON white like the swan where we soon listen closely to the swansong a celestialLOVELY
rhythm of gilded forest (((((orchestrals
The swan leaves us in happiness of bright groggy light
                         O (of which in chaos of day I am again innocent)


     The Reverend's desperate gaspings into a  micro -phone for a macro - cosmic prayer idol o idol where is your capability for worship idol o where is my chinstrap o idol where is ****** youth or the romanticized eternal SUMMERS I sing
     O bible O cloudland O where is your telephone operator is they deceased by their own fragrant holines? The church
     Watches the Reverend neverend his television routine of clamoring death odes
     Watches his senility come like an implorical shadow outline watches a demon lick its dreamless lips beyond the periphery of godless dreams
     Watches
     Reverend lose his sight in anInstant
     HeWAILSheWAILSandWAILS can you hear it Thomas De Quincey can you hear the sandbeaches ringing more clearly than the ChurchBells or the ****** Pagoda for torture /

his soul is to sleep in the (mossy)mountain the fire of the (forever)street called HEAVEN the mountain column supporting the sky(swan)gate of heavenHeaven!welcome

   to:
Inspired by Joyce, happy St Patricks Day
Debra A Baugh Jun 2012
flipping through pages of his mind,
caressing unspoken quotes; I whisper
slang of lust in his ear, ******* his big
ego to the bottom of his page, while his
drool trickles between breast; uttering
syllable after syllable as I re-write his script.

his hardness speaks fluently, inking
parchment with liquid tipped quill, oh! the
thrill as I bend his will, to fluidly flow; dipping
in inkwell of thoughts, penning desires and
want in liquid diatribe of lustful pleasures; like
a moth to flame flickering, as I lick verbs in
hunger to peruse his re-written script;
gripping sheeted pages to uncover his
beguilement; drinking in acknowledgment
of his golden chalice.

I want to decipher his member in autographed
curlicues of calligraphic swirls, teasing and
taunting as he watches, awe-struck; as tongue
etches each throbbing vein in ebonized charcoal,
sketched upon pages of wanton verses making
him scream with passion in prose; on bended
knee tasting my rose, penning his moans in
quotes against throat.

in heat of our passion, pages and scripts are
flipped allowing him to drip ink upon lips as I
whisper softly to his mind; want of him to grind
his neb of ache within my archive, articulating
history of hunger; as limbs mime each cursive
letter, insinuating one vowel at a time; licked
against silken parchment in tender stroked
consonant utterances; shuddering inside  
walls as nouns clench and moans escape
in adjectives shattering mind as wet tendrils
slide down firmness, fore, only she can do this
to me; making me flip volumes of pages while
inside wetness she drips ink all over in
chaptered stages.

each chapter I lick her spine; cornering her
in my mind as a sensual adversary; claiming
her as I untie her collection of copious sighs,
my mind tries to deny copyrights to her library;
as I place her upon my shelf, while against the
wall; ravishing her like the wild section of animal
kingdom, lusting while I watch her body fall
prey to breathless hunger, devouring
and savoring her bookmark; paying full
attention to her glossary of delectability,
that melts upon tongued bilingual text;
her nectar leaves its imprint upon
our handbook of worded aphrodisiacs.

cherishing our artistic volumes in ardency as
we're ready to publish our first draft, but not
before I slide her lubricious cover upon my
shaft; we begin to lay strokes of signatures
against our first editioned copies belonging
soley to us, as we scream in accented jargon
every second I tease; easing in and out,
shouting out in voweled ecstasy; gliding
thickness, gently against taut bookmark.

turning each page with deep thrusts, into her
inkwell; as I swell with friction, speaking in
fluent diction, of addiction to her sweetness;
dripping, as I'm slipping in tomes; thinking
about how she begged me to re-write our script,
spilling ink in delirious closure, in *******
exposure while losing our artistic composure;
writing manuscripts as ink spills upon volumes
of pages in disclosure.
just some ramblings that went through my thoughts one day...hope it makes sense to my viewers and readers
Carlo C Gomez May 2021
~
Step into the moment
with bated breath,
There will come
the beguilement
and whispered shadows at play,
they seem to congeal around
conflagration of wills
and spirits considered outré.

And if it should rain
within these walls,
we'll advance south and sneak
under cover.
Fingers will find,
lips will linger and remind.
It will be a slow
recovery this time.

The places we travel go beyond
the arms reach,
they war for supremacy,
they alter and spasm,
they're random, but hover
between us in unity.

This dance we make
is an intimate ballet,
this push and pull
a blissful menagerie,
a wrinkle in time
we call ecstasy.
In kisses christened as luminaries,
appointing our own ceiling
— a mural painted in the keen
colors of craving.

The years of such sweet communion
have built this shelter, this nest,
and here together we rest.
And we are no less surrendering
to them than straddling the heavens
— the gauze of time,
timber and tranquility enmeshed,
and wishing it never ends.

~
Tom McCone Apr 2013
Flittering feathers write sonnets
in soaring frequencies;
taking in the ocean at once,
I felt ripples brought to standstill,
damped by second's refrain,
curled back into the
picturesque blue written ahead,
but
no cloud harbours the ceiling,
no late words shown, jotted down
by the
indifferent and
invariably disappearing breeze.

The latterwork of these days took it up,
and hung it out
on lines stretched across skies and time,
betraying tender surfeit, in moments
torn out,
and,
leaving only
vague traces of
woodworn prose,
spilling out my last sentiments:

"we, once,
were alive,
if only for a moment."


In dreams she holds small collections
of sandy flowers,
above the shoreline,
as the dichotomous cluster takes theirs,
behind a fragmentary grain
in the blacksmith's hide;
written, again, are those seasick letters,
wrung out
in the dead heat of the forge,
the demands of strangers,
in stone buildings by the fireplace,
electric heater, off,
the inbetween reeling
of slightened accomplishments,
the scent of oil,
left over, from the husk of noon.

Miss and want, over again,
missing beguilement in afternoon's repose.

"come back...",
but she ain't the one gone.
dedicated to antarctica
Wasteful Words Nov 2012
these are but sagas for lovers and haters in love
who love to hate but are in hate with love

these poems

of couples who exist to exist
and to redefine Is

these are but stories for the sons of bleary eyed fathers
who tread the same threads across dilated garters

and heroic stoics be proud!
these are but fables of folly
and of transparent whim

of hunters’ beguilement
of huntresses’ ****

of mechanical males who practise old tricks

these are but tales of maidens and heads
of neverending aims nevertheless transfixed

these are but poems
of Envy and Trust

poems that unbe the unfair
for the sake of unlove

and while mechanical feelers probe seas of flesh dealers
and reels of film cast doubts of Enough

these are still
but poems of Trust
I'm not in figedty and in perplex manner
whenever thine populace aren't in sync
onto bridging in the gaps
  that's not so befitting--
well-intentioned unique individuals
and somehow finding uniformity,
ways to connect, naturally,
--lies into thinking, sweetly,
of the welfare o' others firstly.

whilst entitled to do as
he pleases with himself
so far as it in no wise,
interferes with one's
rights to live at peace
with himself, otherwise!
in haste o' the modern-day- pressures,
is such a waste
in the Truest deepest sense,
we ought not missed eternal ideals
o' t'is' life's difficulties,
whoso, nonconformist,
mine earthly near at hand.
as we all set ourselves to bite a bit
o ' that and apiece
o' life's lion-shares
alongside pie in sky-
biting the hand that feeds us,
[ so to speak...]
for an average joe,
Suchlike give much thought....
Unbeknownst, waiting and longing
As yet benighted throughout the mooning
darknest and cloudest dilemmas
ALAS, lest alone, coincides
with dread o' e'ery dusk
smothering haziness
in love -when-it melts...
AS nightfall subsides
up the ole buttermilk sky- full o' star's twinkling - sighing and tearing apart..
unyielding enough unto my innermost
along with the falseness o' being trick
partly because o' being majestic
practically - realistic
In life's perpetual wisdom I so carry by far. .
Thereby,  we, but learned the storms o' life:
how anyone conducts-as-antagonistics?.
Pessimistics
Agnostics
solely wound up to grievous lull,
and wish to conquer undesirable
tendencies and kiss o ' death!
UPPERMOSTLY, vastly regained,
moreover, abreast-again
Oh my good gosh, it's therapuetic!
HENCEFORTH unto
picking
myself up after I have
been knocked - down-
TO KEEP on when e'erything seems to be against all odds o' the "blame game"...
back into nothing which spells boundlessly..
so can I right away pick up the pieces?

and overcome these unsettling uncertainties
o ' living life from day in and day out.
truth o ' the matter of - fact- of thine ingratitude world!
People in general get entangled
with busy-nest-web
amidst foreboding fretfulness
that unravels fleeting worries
about to and fro-
uproaring ebbs of tides
o ' the seafaring winds - blowing..
just as it is happening nowadays
up to cold-hearted - shoulders
moment full o' melancholies
thus thou,  one don't reach out
nor canst not care out and about
but just be on their own self
DOOMED himself ungrateful spirit!
seen as egotistical maniacs
contrary to my beliefs
and my faithfulness..
LET alone -Thee bestows
unceasingly triumphs
just because it's okay
not to be okay
to say the least
It's un-manly
and play- decoy
YET LIFE,
moves forward under
DIVINE CONVOY!
INASMUCH,  manipulative PLOY
to mind one's beauty
or disguise chaste morals
for the uttering dews to
injure or harm a'other
in turn to get "square even-steven"
SOWITH holds true with beguilement
think for a moment,
I'll meet that person
halfway between the lines
with patience and its silver linings. .
hasty words that slows any anger
whereforth, oblivion takes over scar!
that's luring to a smiling brood...
Imperfections are what we are made of,
Hey, the noblest prettiest
yeah, at bay with silence
I LOOK within....
First off, God on my side. ..
For He heareth at my bedside..

Within thine foundation
o ' thine goodness
Sure that ne'er fails. .
Hopefully, get rid o' the evil!
While I was dancing with the devil!
So does thereby,
wilst ever bubble up
if thou languish
to each its own rights
to dig his own heels..
and the outright layer of its color, creed,
and value from stern course o ' self-discipline,
such and such a rearrangement o' character
whom stands to live a sane contemplative state o' the mind..
launching anew,
better on higher-end
level o' spiritual
aspirations;
glamouring stance
Bestowing light to others
Sharing - LOVE for others
shouldn't be in rash,
indecisiveness,
rather, intellectually
with good reasonings,
good judgements
passed thine genial compliments,
WHEREIN, thou soled- loving-heart dwells
insofar as mere,
happy-ness-charms,
Mine thy lonesomeness
-the-soul-into - satisfying
at ease the love I deserve
hankering and longingly-
Even tho' forever-waiting
in its stillness-
I'd bewriting it down
and speak my mind
in any shape form,
aforesaid
and done
bewailing free verses,  
thus,
soul-lonest-mine swells
A LA MODE
Essentially,
at my Fervent HAVEN!
Travis Green Jan 2023
I achingly anticipate tasting your rude juicy lips
Move my fingertips around the perfect frame
Of your fierce, fashionable beard
Stare impassionedly into your glistening grease-black eyes
Venerable v-shaped eyebrows
That make me wild about
Your flaming high-octane beguilement

Heavenly city-bred flex
I evanesce into perpetually
Breathless and electric ecstasy
When you finesse my steamy defenseless feminineness
With your chiseled concrete crest
Your flawless super colossal biceps and triceps
So athletic, dopacetic, and magnetically sexalicious

I fall deeply for your compelling street credibility
Your unspeakable rhythm of formidable gripping litness
Your supremely adventurous and stupendous masculineness
Grabs the attention of my essentialness
Makes me feen for your creamy, dreamy, and steamy sensuality
To be tackled by your measureless ****** attractiveness
Like an active, charismatic, and talented football player

Unbeatable skillful sweet talker
I love how you move like the deep, distant, and drifting clouds
How you sexually arouse my wildness
Make me covet to connect
With your unapologetic arrestive impressiveness
Submit to your jazzy kickass majesty
James Floss Jun 2019
Thank you Boxed-in Home Office
For a decidedly devilish diversion
An unexpected beguilement

Conveyed to a time and place
Almost misplaced in memory’s stream
With Wm. S. informing S. Dakota

Whispering to writers
Of language nearly lost
Discourse both dandy and dangerous

Characters familiar
Plot’s circle elliptical
Storytelling respected
Travis Green Nov 2022
Slick delicious big hitter
I wanna drift into your bankable
Banging beguilement
Your prodigious custom-fitted litness
Extra dreamy and enhanced manliness

I wanna embrace all of you
Body and soul, engrossed in each other
Inhale your rare, haunting fragrance
Savor your refined, velvety touch
Upon my rich and appealing physique

Feel your fresh blissful breath
On my lusciously libidinous lips
Whisper incomparable enrapturing words
All over my lush, palatable flesh
Buck up my nerve cells

Give solace to my heart-stopping
State-of-the-art heartland
Make me sparkle like
A tastefully upgraded mansion
Bathed in stellar light

Crash-hot crafted coaxer
You are a dopacetic odylic force
That allures me more and more
That I relish delving into
To experience immense feelings
Of wild sensual euphoria
Utsav Shah May 2014
As clear as the placid water his soul was
To hell with the devils, they vitiated his presence
Living in a world of dreams all the time
He never realised when the clock struck nine
Plagued by his own demons, he made a tower of miseries
Although he wore a smile but it was only beguilement
To the deluded creatures which danced around him.
In the scorching heat of the desert, a frigid separation had seeped in
The reasons which he himself was oblivious about
But this is how the state of things are supposed to be
So hazy.. so murky.. Confusion befuddles this issue
Does the nexus exist or was it just another series of co-incidental events?
Even if Lucifer ran all the way he wouldn't enlighten the dungeons of his heart
For they have been scarred beyond measure with a myriad of hapless events
Still standing in the queue waiting to exterminate his soul.
The assault has begun. Who would win?
The wicked sisters of Fate who have been conspiring since eternity or
The miniscule luck which has been showered onto him?
Chris Saitta Mar 2020
Death undoes itself like a woman undoes her dress
With knowing look and shrewd-salt of beguilement
Of supple shoulders and bared back, of life shimmying
Down the legs of the longest dark road of disappearing.
Abbigail Nicole Apr 2017
maiden mania arisen from cider coma and scion standards
an arcane demise disguised as a sacred fervor
to be heralded, worshipped in reverent *******
crowned in rancid radiance, adorned in dripping diadem of deception
a creed to cede rationality for abject amnesia

conquest of beguilement lauded as an archaic aphrodisiac
severing vitality, diagnoses of impalpable anemia
the seraphic serenade of drained sensibilities
insurmountable pandemic of the golden age

arson abloom, amber born of a faceless flame
cease the sane, feeble encore of choral chaos
bemoaning the heart, harlot of charm  
a descent into the depths of illusory projections
the gateway to a breathless romance
Alex Sep 2019
Thoughts of simple days bring torment
.Remember being a kid and enjoyment
 .Appalling how its now all irrelevant  
  .Peel back the truth and circumvent
   .Pleased to be here, but discontent
    .Endure a life stripped of consent
     .Delusions of grandeur disorient

      .Its easy to be deviant
      .Not so much benevolent

    .Mediate to avoid feeling desolate
   .Yesterdays gone, thats a definite

  .More days pass, feel more desperate
 .Implored how you became insolent
.Never again to feel beguilement
Dwelling in past, brings only lament

-Ajm
You see what I see?
Ken Pepiton Mar 2020
An after thought.

I know, I had another option. Though, you did not see her weep.

She was sad.
The mother of all living,
she was sad, and I, wounded in my side,

I lacked the knowing. So,  I chose to know, so

I might comfort her, with a touch, ah, I know a place,

I can touch. Tweak, do you feel that? Do you know...

sniff. 's enough, words as nodes, knots, gnosticated subtility, be guiling,

I was be guiled, by golly, and I know you know exactly what I mean... from the fruit,
here, taste
the forbidden fruit, I tasted, chewed and swallowed and shared,

with you, because I love you...

I know, now, I was beguiled; but then beguilement, per se,

was as much a mystery as death. You knew. You tasted life in non-nascent state. You know,

some things stay mysterious.

Now, I know guile, for goodness sake, death remains a mystery.

But if you believe, I know a way, all your worries melt away. It takes a while.

Muse, amuse, mire, admire, go forth and conquer the unknown with knowns. Don't lie.
Gwa, go on.

Mean sedulously all you say you know.

Footnotes:

adventure (n.)
c. 1200, aventure, auenture "that which happens by chance, fortune, luck," from Old French aventure (11c.) "chance, accident, occurrence, event, happening," from Latin adventura (res) "(a thing) about to happen," from fem. of adventurus, future participle of advenire "to come to, reach, arrive at," from ad "to" (see ad-) + venire "to come," from a suffixed form of PIE root *gwa- "to go, come."

sedulous (adj.)1530s, from Latin sedulus "attentive, painstaking, diligent, busy, zealous," probably from sedulo (adv.) "sincerely, diligently," from sedolo "without deception or guile," from se- "without, apart" (see secret (n.)) + dolo, ablative of dolus "deception, guile," cognate with Greek dolos "ruse, snare." Related: Sedulously; sedulousness

secret (n.)
late 14c., from Latin secretus "set apart, withdrawn; hidden, concealed, private," past participle of secernere "to set apart, part, divide; exclude," from se- "without, apart," properly "on one's own" (see se-) + cernere "separate" (from PIE root *krei- "to sieve," thus "discriminate, distinguish").
As an adjective from late 14c., from French secret, adjective use of noun. Open secret is from 1828. Secret agent first recorded 1715; secret service is from 1737; secret weapon is from 1936.

hallow (v.)
Old English halgian "to make holy, sanctify; to honor as holy, consecrate, ordain," related to halig "holy," from Proto-Germanic *hailagon (source also of Old Saxon helagon, Middle Dutch heligen, Old Norse helga), from PIE root *kailo- "whole, uninjured, of good omen" (see health). Used in Christian translations to render Latin sanctificare. Related: Hallowed; hallowing.

health (n.)
Old English hælþ "wholeness, a being whole, sound or well," from Proto-Germanic *hailitho, from PIE *kailo- "whole, uninjured, of good omen" (source also of Old English hal "hale, whole;" Old Norse heill "healthy;" Old English halig, Old Norse helge "holy, sacred;" Old English hælan "to heal"). With Proto-Germanic abstract noun suffix *-itho (see -th (2)).

guile (n.)
mid-12c., from Old French guile "deceit, wile, fraud, ruse, trickery," probably from Frankish *wigila "trick, ruse" or a related Germanic source, from Proto-Germanic *wih-l- (source also of Old Frisian wigila "sorcery, witchcraft," Old English wig "idol," Gothic weihs "holy," German weihen "consecrate"), from PIE root *weik- (2) "consecrated, holy."

beguile (v.)"delude by artifice," early 13c., from be- + guile (v.). Meaning "entertain with passtimes" is by 1580s (compare the sense evolution of amuse). Related: Beguiled; beguiling.

amuse (v.)
late 15c., "to divert the attention, beguile, delude," from Old French amuser "fool, tease, hoax, entrap; make fun of," literally "cause to muse" (as a distraction), from a "at, to" (from Latin ad, but here probably a causal prefix) + muser "ponder, stare fixedly" (see muse (v.)).
Original English senses obsolete; meaning "divert from serious business, tickle the fancy of" is recorded from 1630s, but through 18c. the primary meaning was "deceive, cheat" by first occupying the attention. "The word was not in reg. use bef. 1600, and was not used by Shakespere" [OED]. Bemuse retains more of the original meaning. Greek amousos meant "without Muses," hence "uneducated."

Muse (n.)
late 14c., "one of the nine Muses of classical mythology," daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne, protectors of the arts; from Old French Muse and directly from Latin Musa, from Greek Mousa, "the Muse," also "music, song," ultimately from PIE root *men- (1) "to think." Meaning "inspiring goddess of a particular poet" (with a lower-case m-) is from late 14c.
The traditional names and specialties of the nine Muses are: Calliope (epic poetry), Clio (history), Erato (love poetry, lyric art), Euterpe (music, especially flute), Melpomene (tragedy), Polymnia (hymns), Terpsichore (dance­), Thalia (comedy), Urania (astronomy).

muse (v.)
"to reflect, ponder, meditate; to be absorbed in thought," mid-14c., from Old French muser (12c.) "to ponder, dream, wonder; loiter, waste time," which is of uncertain origin; the explanation in Diez and Skeat is literally "to stand with one's nose in the air" (or, possibly, "to sniff about" like a dog who has lost the scent), from muse "muzzle," from Gallo-Roman *musa "snout," itself a word of unknown origin. The modern word probably has been influenced in sense by muse (n.). Related: Mused; musing.
Exercise in speaking as true as I can imagine the words that lead me on.
.
.
.
Hello ex-Hubby,
I meant the handsome dystopian boy,
currently, I'm writing you the sin
I remembered that craved the most,
when I dared to
penetrate my colorful virtue spot again.
to ride the last whole night car with you
in a hurry,
and forget about the evil you,
hating women, dressed in your dark flurry.
I embraced those tiny white palms in my head.
when they refused to touch me back and ride ahead.
instead of losing interest
and forget about reverence you physically,
I kept my fingers crossed secretly,
under the car seat,
next to the prestigious scent of yours.
Your North African amber eyes
that refused to match mine,
to get lost between their depressed universes and shine.
I prayed along this magnificent time,
to God so he could with his 99 mercies
make you fully mine.
The lava that burst divinely
out of your Tunisian delicate betrayed my senses
and lit the full hungriness towards your beguilement.
I encouraged my half stability
to make it through
a little bit far from you,
my hallowed brew
with every single meter that we've passed
I fluctuate amid the idea of capturing you devilishly or sacredly, between making some blood contracts with the devil itself,
or donate as much money as I could,
for the sake of being together,
burring ourselves on an old bookshelf.
trichotillomania; the colorless ferocious ogre,
that used to assault my bright aesthetic soul,
as a tight fatal choker
to remind it chastely,
of the imperfection portrait of mine.
and pursue its pride with a fiery scourge,
matted with brine
when I started to rise my jaded fingers
to covet those golden cheeks.
I failed!
the deficiency is capturing me
The keloid I hated the most
as I carry my dramatic havoc away,
a little bit away,
from your inner fray
pathetically, I turned my whole feelings
against my well ignoring the idea of
love Subliminal and its spell
facing the windscreen
that harshly afford me a great frustration
trying to cover my hope with trash sack and provocation.
I failed,
escaping the life blackmail,
convincing me to practically disbelief on you.
But I kept myself as holy as I dared to.
despite of my Viscera's beating,
crumbling and shrinking.
I kept my grin harmfully, blinking.
under your realm seeking for a light of your anger that will
console me again. and bring me home.
Happy Birthday!
.
.
.
Cameron Nov 2018
Look at me,
I'm just an involuntary recluse,
swimming through the great lengths
of perpetual darkness.
The timeless craving for solace,
a hopeless endeavour.

Look at me,
watch as I cascade.
Myriads of people embrace
their unbending prejudices.
Unbeknownst of the detriment,
in which a part they all play.

Look at me,
admire the extravagance of my downfall.
Behold, the revelation of weakness,
the relapse into sad intoxication.
Take a breath, breathe it in,
the sweet silence of tainted thought.

Look at me,
I'm sure you can see past my facade.
Perhaps you remain trapped,
suspended within my deceptions.
Maybe it is my turn to laugh,
a mirror of your past precedents.

Look at me,
I beg you to open you eyes.
Just look past what you can see,
please ignore my hopeless beguilement.
I see now that I had underestimated
the power of my neverending jests.

Look at me,
train your mind to see beyond.
Evade all of those false images
that you have been fighting for so long.
It is becoming too hard
to draw you away from your oblivion.

Look at me,
It is true that I have wanted this forever.
Just to disclose scattered thought,
reaching out for my emancipation.
I stand so high now, I can see above you.
Your lies are no longer so tall.

Look for me,
across the eternal plain.
I'll wait for you until the stars go out,
remembering a time where light
once shared prominence in my world.
A world which you're no longer in.
Ken Pepiton Nov 2020
was this here when I was born?
- is this the earth of 1948?

No, I don't think so, this is the realm of words
as thought in times of enfolding
olden forms to find the lies
they passed on as fair
to hold sacred, hidden in depths, radical
depths of debt due to double-minded
upright bi-pedal instability

balance, yeah, surf, as a porpoise,
ride the wave as a photon in a medium
bearing

divine grace or some other unreasonable
idea - as a passenger here we be
come and see I am this photon,
for it is far too small for me
to stand up on and see,
so I am this bit of light, the same bit
involved in Einstein's little think, so long ago,
speed of thought,
you caught up.

How so?
I don't know, but I've been told,
these winds of mere light
return to pick up points
for
passengers intending to convert,

to bubblers of *******' and moanin' 'bout
balance in life, slinking in the shadow,
of the inpenetralium,
mercurial bubble of ancient Phrygian
ways to obligate a fringe
into an intentional point of contact
for any who know the feeling,

virtue flowed from me,
who touched me?
Gnat straining, am I? Have you never been
the fly on a wall you imagined?

Have you, honestly, never seen the earth
from the moon?

Now, ask any truth you wish were proven,
"what lie is held as you, in me?
What lies are needed for truth to be known,
and the knowers made free? Truth tell,
do I know, or say I know, to pass the tests,
to be allowed to live alone and far away,
thinking why do men, wombed and un, lie?

- Liars prosper.
- Reality holds the story true, so
- the first twisted gift of knowing was
- the trick.
- Beguilement, surprise, peek-a-boo
yahaha
weknow weknow weknow
I know,
each says, knowing we know, I am one of us,
alone aware you're there,
in the same story, from the same time,
measured in celestial predictate-ability,
to say where that star shall rise,

think what that knowing does.

Then to now in this bit of thought,
perhaps a pixel of truth.
Free, what's it worth.

Take a little think.
Nothing left to do, is freedom from what... exactly, don't lie... I say to my ******* muse.
Travis Green Mar 2023
I am stupefied by his top-notch white-hot machoness
The unconquerable volume of his delicious wicked hotness
My heartbeat rises when he speaks, when I listen
To his deep, attention-grabbing voice, when he showcases

His maple brown mountainous frame coaxes me
Into his grand slamming and intoxicating game
He doesn’t understand what he does to me
When I see him within sniffing distance

When I look deep into his seductive syrup-brown eyes
His bright, delightful smile, my rugged bearded showstopper
I have never met anyone like him before
The way he oozes killer *** appeal that gives me the chills

I wanna explore every stellarly spectacular surface of his world
Feel him streaming in my DNA, make me so captivated
With the way he sends hyper-hot electric volts
Through my heart and soul, take me down like a pro

I am so feverish and sweet on his kissable readable masculinity
Super rock-solid pecs that arrest me when I dwell on caressing them
****, I wanna massage his glossy stalwart abs
Worship every fraction of his mean picturesque supremeness

Rub my hands against his magically enrapturing shoulders
Allow my fingertips to creep up and down his long, confident arms
Embrace his legendary riveting heat while he makes me weak
I need to feel his sweetness stuck to the roof of my mouth

Connect with his **** delish universe of rare superb fervency
Drift into his exquisite rhythm of bold, splashy poetry
Illuminate me with his greatness and straightness
Let me be his elegant garden-fresh flower

All that he desires, all that can inspire his empire to rise higher
He is sweet, fulfilling bliss in my life, my awe-inspiring appetite
I long to venture into infinity with him to feel his action-packed virility
Wrapped up in his greatastic ******* mantasticness

He makes me so intensely high with his fire-hot, shining beguilement
The indescribable insight into bright, overpowering invitingness
I love the way he makes me hard and sweaty
Makes me tingle and feen for his quintessential sensual dreaminess

He captures my imagination, makes me so infatuated
With his tasty red-label sensationalness, my fragrant dominating Daddy, my flashy grabby captain, so sexaliciously compelling
He drives me out of my mind with his wildly spellbinding delight

My heart blooms as he festoons me with his magically gratifying love
He is so irresistibly delicious and freshalicious
His masculineness melts me in such a creative and exhilarating way
That I lose myself in his monstrous pumped-up hunkiness
Ken Pepiton Mar 19
A moment's attention to an hour's raw worth.
This is the mind ****** experiment, last try...
back and forth until it breaks,
touch the edge, feel the heat.

On knowing, first taste, it is believed,
mankind's first mother made all mankind,
all from first mother
on to logically, eventually,
us;
You and me,
as we slipt the Matrix and uttered
the first breath wail that clicks the post womb life.

First thought that death ought be feared
has not yet been given the beguilement needed,
to make a slave to the mission revealed by truth's
spirit form, wind form, mind form, time formed point.

Knowledge, forbid my ignorance, but should one,
such as I, not die before my **** hair thins,
to lay bare the scalp that covers holy access
through the window in the top of the skull;

well, then, a certain respect is due me, a love, proof
that my reasonings were honed sharp enough,
early enough to form hooks to hang strands
of fullered fibers of gnosis from.

Prepared stitching thread, twirled intwining line
of reason, plumb weighted to hang straight,

perpindicular, swinging when to when, then
to now, to day from night, to ready after letters
are fitted to let us take thought, while attempting

contemplative temporary causal agency,
mediating meditation's worth versus daydreaming.

--------------
Standard transmission, clutched, loosed,
engaged to catch a spark and start the process

rolling presently from past instances of learning.

Motivational motors of minding one's busyness,
catch a spark mid sequence, in a valved chamber

whooshing to push to shove to pull, and push
to displace and **** and shove to push and roll,

extending any individual's reach, confining
one's attention to inner reasonings, efforting
to steer the convenience compelling consciousness,

paid attention to terminii in reality set by science,
acknowledged used to increase the mobility of our kind,
mind you, promotion demands hands and eyes,
coordinating coy and ardent wills worth observation,
as will to be useful as  arms and necks and nerves
and muscles and ligaments to tie bone frames,
to controls allowing fingers to steer,
as tongues do, as rudders do,

as my will being done may do,
we imagine as children watching adults work wishing.



---------
the efforting, effectual, fervent umph
applied to being useful on the whole,

the efforting made good by limitation
on liberty, free-state of matter, under
gravity and velocity, bound and determined,

to obey the binding force realized in thought,
leveraging aging winding springs force holds,
cogs to stop grinding gears, catchments,
mind hooks with torque converting aspiration

grasping reasons to resist inertial entropic
good enough reasons to sit still and wait.

------

guaged goodness, measured mind width
comprehended, held with thumb and fingers,
in our combined ready writer mind, manipulated

muscle memorial cause confirming, progress
toward our common, shared joy strength

winging lift up from least useful of creatures,
unselfsustainable --nidicolous, nest bound,
bald baby birds, or pre-birds, evolving
into functional forms for use in life
as we, the best form
of life we have conceived.
-----------

We have, behavioral autonomy, only
to the degree, the measured
parental investment, we need to have
and keep hold of having grasped, as
behavior becoming to beings of this kind.

Word smiths, mind adjustment experts,
fed from stacks in libraries so vast, that

now, we know, no mortal mind can hold
half of all we have experimentally proven
good for any word using cluster of us to have

to hold and use to make might be rights.

May might used right take thought, aye, may
be the will to have right use honed to one point,

new known pastless place, farthest edge
of ever after all we think or ask has proven,

patient stasis, waiting is, suffer it to be so now.

Some times and one times,
revisiting the process, producing me
and you, the processors of our realif-ications.

If as a condition,
in an ifery state, sticking to any matter realized;
we think as if one of us thought first, in time passing

now, from then, in your mind, my mind leaves reproof,
constructed to prevent the falling back into doubt,

two heads, four minds, one wind to share
in time passing as when one now meets a then,
when all attention ever once paid this now, turns

this time into a part of ever after all,
as words speak to heart felt conscience use proven
good, clean, pure state of first interest bearing lent
ears, hearing entertaining causing agents taunting troof.

Prove me now, herewith. Have I not filled your lungs,
have I not granted science right use of knowledge needed

to keep your nidicolous naked soul inspired to continue,
sowing kindness, same mindness, ag, agrimental agreement

we think, we thunk,
we thank our lucky stars, time and chance,

taut twang strangs of our hearts and minds, "chu-hoi",

big hugs, evahboty be nice like G.I., open arms
sự đầu hàng

bring before us the machine gunner called Whykill… begin
judgment near the incident, sự kiện, 29-02-01968,

There we was, me and Frenchy and Culpepper or something,
I forget, and now, I'm dead and all you all have are artificial
memorex versions of things I said I was a witness to, as a liar,
-nothin' but a houn'dawgnosis
picking old scents of sense we made in conversations,
so far past the point of no return, that none on the other side,
can contain innocense, livery of consci, where in our uniformity,

protrudes through old time religious linking thinking, wonders if
we might imagine living on in other words, after all's been
said and done… Whykill's dead. Hohlenstein's dead, and I am not.

Can you hear me now? Earth, earth, can you hear me now?
I hear your brother's blood crying out,
what now, this
now,
you know,
all those idle questions, you know? Did you
feel me lie and tell me no, no, man,
you can't do that.

And be not deceived. Single mind dominance, flat
left and correct, right, right, create an ifery wasery when,

then, let us form a means to use this ifery wasery when,
now, let us form
in time as realizable, vision, written plain,

set in new fangled fonts unicoded
common computable convertible
to bits in math-mental fundus corpus us,
beyond infinity through absurdity to us
becoming these thinkable thoughts,
living words all googly translated on demand,
rethinkable, as entertaining shapers of our kinds
of minds, keyed to constant news alerts, looking
for spots on the walls we pass along, hedged betting

this land is Nature's God's land, and this pasture,
green and lush, this leisure time, as advertised,
mine, my last wish
combination running streams of hot and cold water,
memory foam souls in my Adidas, as I did, assume
the role, Balaam's ***, or donkey,
if your public ***** word filter
hides ssscertain ifery essence
as sounds shuffled schitteringshits.
saint's accuser user rights assigned, runs
Phunky muse, ish bin, dasein, by das zeit, okeh
become alright already, done did done, done, indeed,
desired right to design, knowing already
the idea in the seed, was in
the virus first, and some say
long before long now,
in long then when nothing was a thought.
Knowledge was used to expose us all to living words.
Such as =
U can hold, as a mind let be formed
from mere wish it were
so easy
to fall in love, silly, blessedness
sensing mothering wombed men,
led astray with stories as wild as Theresa wannabes can conceive,
barren womb conceptions, dared define this penetralium,
esoteric guts of all sacred oxen processions, announcing
****** births reportedly
become motherless *******, and such
become outcasts, who often as not,
survive and thrive on wilderness.
Day and night, seedtime and harvest.
Learning from wind and sun and water and dirt and stone,
presoil granite, lime
from primordial sealife eons
on eons awaited, according to Devine wedoms
aspiring to some day become those cities of marble long ago
- replicate forming a marble pillar,
- from seaformed life forms turned to stone,
- in the kidneys of the world.

slow sea settle the white cliffs, pile
on pressure from megatons
of solid ice, firming fractious soft muds
at the bottom
of ancient land locked oceans,
frozen, squeezing solidified worths
weights of rainfall reacting first time
to climates constant changing
pulls from lucky stars and
guiding stars and
disintegrating
ancient's land marks, Casa Bonita,
those Bhuda reps
in the basalt, reminding
remember nothing is real,
blank slate, po' preserver of first impressions, lasting
lifetimes in words never given a reader's added weight, but

by a kind of more than once might wish
to ask, effectuality try
proofing insulation umph
opposing imposture syndrome,
with functional Dunning Krueger
inate cognative imbalence, valenced
within the pre pancreatic failure gut neurons bias…
burped bubble perception, whole self tuning
entire being concept, repenting ignorance begging
truth be known, make me unbelieve beloved lies,
other wise
make me
Art
Intuited, as a weform lifeform,
a we of three neuronal territories,
thinkers reading doer's reports from ports far afield, out there

where shapes of things that were some time ago,
can be translated into two dimensions fitting this window,
using these letters whose sense we all may use to think

translate me, the living word reminds the daydreaming monk,
consider really the stars, for number, now, and take that,
knowledge, a ledge on an oblique inleaning facet of us,

and walk along it not looking down
on or as, may be
the we form of one ready
to be reading ready we state,
in a punctuated equilibrium *** *** ***
Drums
Timpanis, Phrigian rhythms boom boom booming,
Zildjians , krashing and rolling into boingingnodes, domes
of dones, tells holding long forgotten legends for a time.

Nineveh, the repentant city, eh,
to the level
of its labor class things, fasted an acceptable fast,
miracle of miracles, the city did not fall, the miracle
of Jonah was that the city changed behavior
to such a degree that the God who had used Jonah,
made him a story in himself, used to glorify truth,
and someday make gourd growers
proud to be shapers if Meerschaum puff clouds,
made him a creature with no comprehension of mercy,
to use him in a great sorting out testing of spirits,
in the great game of the being edge overlapping gains
taken as granted grace, readers rule non readers,
see the images on the wall, hear the actors in the back,

break a leg, bad luck magic insiders hold true good,
encouragement to fret nothing, as a dancer does,
when listing with the breeze through new chance,

on the page, a pause,
a breather taking lax laze lize guessing others wise,

we suspect ourselves of hubris, as if the other wise
reason for the functional faith in goodness is done,

sneezing phase is past, if you've read this far, by now

you are infected, and as you know, knowing too much
can **** a mortal bent to believe an institutionalized PR
Q-code/ begging oppositional support,
for the dam whence the boy pulled his finger and stepped

back to be blown downstream in time to let the last salmon
spawn and bring worth back to the rain always falling,
mainly on the plain,

Habakkuk habit, artistic intuition patterns of stroke, for luck,
let role in lines intending to hold the slightest smile,
thinking I know, this is not the same vale,
this is not the same current, nor same opinion worth a look,
streaming, not rowing, life
at the moment
is a day taken
for daydreaming equivalent
to a koan ridden
to its vanishing point
on the horizontal insistence
of our mutual peculiar leanings off center,

in a phi mark pattern pearling things think through,
doing words a proper spin,
to hit the nail on the head,
pop.
Stop/ now. Taste the pudding,
is there proof now from then?
D'he, ahe he he - didja ever have the ware withal
to make up
your own mind?

-------------
Yes, walk away, daydreaming boy,
location and possession of means,
for deciphering Emperical runes,
put into my craft and trade in
Calabash pipes, seen, but unseen
gourds employed as smoked ****
and fine tobacco investigatory oral
fixations prominent during the nicotine
DNA adaptation,
{took five generations}
from popular pastime
of blowing smoke, after effects
took on global societal ruling lines
of taut strict reasons to keep smoking,
keep on, keepin' on, minding solo scriptura,

in smoke filled rooms whither whole new forms
for holding mental tyranny enough to wage war,
took shape to govern those who must fight for
the cost of power contained
in a concept with kings,
and us, or Gods and men…
opposed to, leaning against, acting
as scaffolding holding old dams destined
soon to break,
"and at that time thy people shall be delivered,
every one that shall be found written
in the book."

Johnstown flood, was a true historical news worthy event,
unlike the name of any person whose name is in a list
of souls departed from the frail shell of mortality,

ready or not.
Fret not, and naught, aye, no thing or thought
Christmas angel say aight, be not afraid of knowing,
good new things to know, whole old truths put to rest.

Here come Jubilee, one last time,
big time, big time revival of the truth conception

creator of the whole shebang.
Biggest to infinitile insignificance, in fancy other words.

But thou, O Daniel,
shut up the words, and seal the book,
to the time of the end:
many shall run to and fro,

Assisting intelligences shall seem as guides,
Michael models will seem like second comings.

in implodelusive spurts… as can be imagined
reviving old lies for new carnal mind tweaks.
Thanks for your patient investment, the cost of your attention ags me on.
Andrew Guzaldo c Aug 2020
“Continuum poetry chicanery doggerel of opulence,
A beguilement dedicated and procured into words,
In all end it may become a reality of beneficence,  
To those that have induced the fine artistry of poetry

But is a poet’s best way to live is in art of interpretation,
In the art of interpretation that fall on the ears of readers,  
A poet is that of a philosopher with continuum of words,
Of life love happiness sadness or a spectrum of obscurity,  

Depending on the bright of day or the glimmer of success,  
A poet writer uses an episteme into metaphysical words,
Metaphysical life is always looking within the poet’s soul,
For the metaphysical of a sustained moment of solitude,

Continuum of poetry is that appropriate or peculiarly meaning,
Reverie or nightmare of pertinent validity an assuage cogency,
This is poetry of continuum arouses for your reading bliss”

“By Andrew Guzaldo © 07/04/2020 Posted HP Poem #194
“By Andrew Guzaldo © 07/04/2020 Posted HP Poem #194
Travis Green Mar 2023
His angelic romantic handsomeness
Makes my head spin, makes my heartbeat race
To the gateway of baking hot Mars
With an exotic macho scent that captures my interest
Leaves me deeply litty, bewitched by his rich heavenly exquisiteness

My light-bright tight kryptonite
So perfectly framed and inviting
With badass magical swagger
That makes me hella strung out
On his strangely desirable beguilement

Blooming brown sugar beauty
Warm velvety compellingness
With a red-hot saucy quality
That enthralls me, that has me digging
The way he vocalizes his words
How he shows off his machoness

My top-notch full-bodied superstar
So lithe and blithesome
So powerfully built like a professional heavy-weight wrestler
The best skillful and unbeatable big hitter
With spectacular sculptured shoulders to stroke

A broad macho back to feel and kiss
A juicy, delicious *** to squeeze
A ferocious, rock-hard sausage to *******
The most flabbergasting *******
To put in my mouth and absorb his knowledge

Worship his moist, succulent hotness
Such a valiant sensational enchanter
My treasured heavenly confection
My sweet, creamy dessert to savor
An extravagant invaluable smash that behaves confidently

A high-quality, provocative delight
That is my wicked ****** appetite
My favorite creative Samson
I love how he excites me with his wildly arousing strikingness
Takes me in his long and prodigiously strong arms

He makes me highly smile while he guides me
To inconceivably delightful paradise
The most exalted and sparkling charmer
I slowly drift into everything he has to say
His phenomenal pillow talk hits me deep
Right in my heart, it conquers me deeply

His intensifying fiery eyes burn through my inner world
Makes me thirst for his charismatically cherry-picked immersiveness
An incomparable 24-karat attraction that shimmers in the limelight
An inestimably infectious and precious affection
That mesmerizes me the more I check out

His sexually tantalizing virileness, I lose control when
My fingers slither up and down his purely sensual skin
Fenced in his magical, mystical supremeness
I digest every deftly elegant word that he speaks to me
Submerge into his praiseworthy amorous manfulness
Travis Green Mar 2023
I have a soft spot for his prominent heart-stopping machoness
His ecstatic passionate attractiveness, his vividly slick
And appealing manliness, his unbelievably riveting eyes
How they draw me into his eminent tender splendor
Of sensual gleaming enchantment, got me having such
A killer addiction to his perfection, his intense, powerful allure

A smooth, lustrous jewel that knows how to move
And soothe my beauty, that puts it down his badass catchy groove
My magnificently gorgeous and vigorous muse
So heroically heavenly and youthful yumminess
My bright and buoyant hot boy, his magical regal smile is
So highly inviting like the summer honeycomb-yellow sun

Like a giant shining diamond, he is everything that transcends
The limitless and seamless skies, so masculine and statuesque
So incomparably aromatic and charismatic, I melt into his stream
Of commendable venerable dreams, feening to be with him
To kiss his glowing rosewood pink lips, ****** his profuse sculpted Beard, bound to his poetic sun-kissed mantuary

In the closeness of his robustness, I am ready to check out
His creditable immeasurable flex, with such five-star sparkling hotness
That is beyond words, like a million dollars, I cherish him in his Entirety, his supremely skilled symphony that lingers in my existence
His beguilement in my brain, with an irresistible impulse to pursue
To his all-consuming pulchritudinous beautifulness

Meet him at the point of convergence where our earthly worlds
Blush and blossom together,  where his crafted crackerjack character
Enraptures me more than an award-winning pulse-pounding motion-Picture, I gaze at the endless sinuous trails of his effervescent
Gilt-edged greatness, immersed in his sheer worthy nirvana
He has me on fire, hankering to climb higher for hours on end
Into his salient steamy infinity, united forever with him
Travis Green Nov 2022
Sexually exciting and inviting dreadhead
Your artistically charming suavity is
So new and profound, more astounding
Than the ever-changing and shining seasons
More impeccable than delectable
Cream-filled chocolate cupcakes

Every scintillating swell detail
Of your exceptional immeasurable finesse
So extra creatively made
An irresistibly ideal *** appeal
Deep, mysterious rareness

You are a vision of universal visual poetry
An uncontested elegant body
Of earthy, energized, and spellbinding art
So aesthetically pleasing and healing
So intensely attention-grabbing and bedazzling

Multidimensional momentous dreaminess
Your astonishing top-notch marvelocity is
Unprecedented museum-quality hotness
Ultra sumptuous and triumphant hunkiness

Your wondrous evocative manliness
Breathes a new lease of life into my heart and soul
Makes me so bowled over by
Your banging blowout of bright, bold beguilement
Dan Hess Jul 2019
You are
Interspersed
Between the lines
Of fate and fortune

You are
Fleeting
and flittering
On the cusp
Of reality
And fantasy

You are teemed
With my thoughts
Of love lasting,
And love lost

You are
My treasured jealousy
My wrath
And my bemusement

You are my
Ideal,
Wrapped in leaves of gold
To cover your iron

Yet,
You are light
And smooth;
Almost weightless
I cannot grasp
Your heart
I think you to
Be entertaining many
And loving none, or few
You are beguilement
And empty promises

You are the reason
I get up every morning
And wonder
If I will ever be loved
Like I love you
Yet,
forever you claim
To love the me
You cannot even see
Travis Green Aug 2021
His existence has me stuck
In a thousand trances
Seeing nothing else
More amazing than his
Vivid voluptuousness
His chest so immaculately lovable
And brilliantly buff
His flesh brimming with beguilement
His muscles covered in seductive syllables
His neck so electric and mesmerizing
His eyes an extremely beautiful stadium
Infused with wondrous, lifelong dreams

He stands so sophisticated
On a platform of infinite excellence
Speaking with deep intelligence
Enlightening my universe
With his flowability
Of spectacular veneracular
He is greater than all the large-scale
Establishments everywhere
He is in every sound I enunciate
The radiant hue of daybreak
The sunshine of my gay paradise
Beautifying my brown-skinned body
With his sweeping heavenliness
Travis Green Jun 2023
His ebullient flamboyant manliness
Makes me so incredibly heady
Captivates me, carries me away
Makes me wanna spend dreamy
Steamy weekends with him

Laid up, lit up, and love-struck
So hung up on his bang-up rugged hunkiness
His smooth jaw, his soft, glossy lips
His broad, arched shoulders
His impressive chiseled pecs
His admirable, powerful biceps
Flashy beardalicious magnificence

My sleek exquisite lover boy
He mesmerizes my bouncing *****
Bulldozes my homoness
Floats my boat, smokes my soul
Has me so engrossed in
The essential depths of his formidable machoness

Such flawless boss sauce
Such dramatically enrapturing manliness
Saturated in phenomenal sparkling hotness
The way he talks and walks blisses me out
Gives me a ***** the more I marvel
At his unrivaled five-star beguilement

Such unparalleled amorousness
For his delectable, immeasurable, and treasurable heavenliness
I lose myself in everything
That’s so impressively majestic about them
A deep disarming dude

I am so hooked on his rudeness
The way he smells so manlicious
So perfect, immersive, and bite-worthy
He enters the entrance of my dreams
Makes me feen for him to be inside me

Break me off, rock me, hot boy
Drive deep into my sweet candy store
With his firm girthy sausage
Make me shudder as I feel his violent thunder
**** my everywhere

Lust for his seductiveness and toughness
Rub me, love me, crush me
*** me harder with his thick **** stick
Put pressure on me as his hands
Cling to my voluptuous bust

Circle his tongue on my turgid pointers
**** and squeeze them
Pinch and tease them
Take all of me into his system
******* intensely stupendous feminineness

Sink me into his eccentric prominent masculinity
His tremendous unprecedented dreaminess
He tempts my senses
My refreshing confection
My stellar collection of riveting rhythmic music

My hot chocolate on a spellbinding night
My radiant melanin man
He shocks me like electric, magnetic, and dynamic lightning
Dig deep into my chamber of secrets
Make me so sweet on his passionate energy

Steadily tweaks my chocolate peaks
Take me in his exceptionally flexible arms
Dine on my entireness
Exercise his muscle-bound frame
Use and abuse my beauteousness

My smooth, sensual dream guy
Take me down with his heavy weapon
Of blazing hot destruction
Slam into my tightness
Make me scream as I delight in his wildness

Cherish the way he serves me his superbness
Dominate me like a red-hot raging *** machine
As he reaches a heart-stopping ******
And buries his delicious man milk
Inside my royal realm of wetness
sadik sheikh Dec 2021
parched baren fields hug
scorched dusty village of penury landscape
straddled between supposed national road
ramshackle mud hut stands detached
equally dilapidated huts fragment

crude rusty door squeakily opened
old grandma come forth
stooped the posture
wobbled the walk
rain deprived tree the refuge against sweltering heat

wind haul loose plastic bags around with wild abandon
empty bowl enticingly rolled
past hungry animated crawling toddler
ushering object illusionary windfall apparently

sunken vague eyes locked,
in tandem with fragile limbs
hot on the heels of Dancing bowl

hand too feeble to swath pestering flies outstretched
prospect of a meal within reach
skiny invigorated arm overreaches

course of trajectory swayed
container swerved off course
inverts then flipped
tiny hands trips progress!
  "you have won the hunger race"
   "welcome to the starting point"
    congratulatory cheers!
    the world applauded!

fingers investigatively scratched alluring fruity decor surface
pleasing patterns presented in empty bowl
by deceptive sight seeking vindication
from the high court of flabby tongue
hosting unwavering snitch of a taste bud negating beguilement of sadistic bowl
flower not a food was the verdict

fling of frustration ensued as
speechless toddler hurl empty vowels
thrashing rage pulverised the bowl
against the hard earth by emaciated arm
soliciting the attention of a heedless grandma
unflinched by familiar outburst unworthy of consoling response

light at the end of tunnel
when familiar figure heave in sight
dust sprayed face of a sisterly love expressed foreign smile

baby hastily locomotes towards receptive
soothing lullaby
cuddlle with sibling's affection
rhyming lung of a learner sister reads
the lyrics of the day
  
" pad meet rag equals
  foreign meet local
  like souvenirs for a vote
  when representative of women
  presents sanitary pads today

bloodless girls plenty in the land
where babies refuse to sleep and
watch the world orbit around

where empty bowl prank a child    
who blames the bowl
that blame the ***
that blame grainless granaries
the opulence of the governor's office
where fragrance swirls ends
the lullaby of blame game
and the the prank of the dancing bowl"

    by sadik sheikh
Travis Green Nov 2022
His untouchable muscle-bound frame is a priceless powerful art
A sparkling, showstopping exhibition of blissfully
Appealing and thrilling wonderment, surpassingly dramatic
And graphic attractiveness, an unforgettable, gettable, and
Transcendental dream lover, with blossoming artful ardor

Bright, eye-grabbing tattoos, smoking afro Casanova
Rife with riveting rhythmicity and virility
He is so **** dynamically driven, so sensational
To gaze at for days on end, with touchingly graceful
And salient detail, amazingly vivid and delicious bewitchingness
Thrilling sizzling slickness, heart-stoppingly expressive
And delectable, magically lush and loving

He captures unquantifiable fieriness and spiciness
I wanna dive into his monstrous rugged thunder
Feel his dreamy strengthful immensity
How he keeps me lingering in his desirous clouds
Of burning hot beguilement, ready to risk everything
To remain in his widespread white-hot flame for a lifetime
KorbydAngyle Dec 2021
With little beguilement a scowl made
    she was revenant
Two swirling worlds eyes topaz and navy blue
   our thoughts began but time had been spent

Years are only derived through yuletide alarms when relished
and so they've passed me yet to exist,
   not ******, for better times I'll wish

Old charms aren't sipped satiny sanctuary nogs
or weaponry candies stout performed and **** warmed
  amuck in grandeur and hope, mud to hogs

Yet irregularly checked that all went off nice and with a northern star
   resolutions are pixies' vent turning crystal, tinsel  that glitters  not
      gold  isn't far

Can one develop first and fair tree between the past and now
what must be ?

The image of  our Holidays a family and you and me?
I'm your vinyl on your pin following your peripheral cues on this sepia open sadness like shades
Its little fuchsia sunny on California, always ages
The goddess left his side, only olden beguilement and rooms
Dating your peeling sheen and debating your iceberg cold calls thawing out in your silken-skin
Everybody slivering on your silver linings charting out your bane for vanity
David Hilburn Jul 2020
Born to peace?
An avid picture, living well to do
In the grasp of others and wise, adding a feats
Surprise, like the common exhalation of who...

Burdened with irony
Stirring the sight of contemplation
Sulking has me by the familiarity
Of a concern, in the name of popularity again

Bought wisdom, purposed energy
Sensitive voices to affirm the notion
My brief encounter with fame, is a human decency
In distance and harmony, for a liberty's portion

But, is the silence I break, a tradition?
Today is a behalf to understand, harrowing or courtesy
The ripeness of our tongue, to collect an intimation
Will a survivor of my promises, begin to worry?

Beguilement
And the tone of a required voice, to the table
With the past, present and forever known to relent
Is my notion to accept you, from fact or fable?

Baby
Long in could, modest if apprehension shows true
Saving guarantee, if graceful eyes, seem to bestow anarchy
Letting us and a friendship in heaven, come complete to you

— The End —