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"blushed" poems
fall was in the air and it was a very dreary october day. the halls of the old victorian house had been filled with new arivals and lots of noise. "i can barely hear myself think." Madison sneered, a cigarette in her hand as she stood next to zoey and nan in the hallway. looking at the new girls with disguist. "and none of these new ******* better step on my toes. this isnt ******* hogwarts." she rolled her eyes. "hogwarts." zoey laughed, making nan laugh aswell. "if this were hogwarts, you would be draco malfoy" nan joked. "hardy har har." Madison snickered. "and you would be harry potters fat cousin because your ugly and nobody loves you." madison smiled. "well, i think it's great." zoey said cheerfully. "all of these girls would feel lost and alone and now they have somewhere to belong.". "you would say that." Madison rolled her eyes. suddenly a slightly younger girl with big green eyes and long brown hair and freckles rushed up to the three of them with a gleam in her eye. "oh my god it is you! you're madison montgomery!" the girl explained. " i love you! will you sign my back pack?" the girl turned around and Madison pulled a pink highlighter out of the side of her floral backpack. her face lit up as she wrote her name on the backpack making zoey and nan smile aswell. "thank you! thank you! thank you! you're my idol." the girl blushed. "my name is Cassie motts, i've seen all of your movies, i love you! i love you! i love you!" the girl giggled. "alright.." Madison had been taken back a step. "have a great day you little ****** she smiled, a look of confusion hung upon her face. "thank you.. you dont know how much this means to me." the girl explained cheerfully and walked away. "well ladies it looks like we're the head honchoes around this **** show." Madison sighed, still slightly smiling. "i was always the head honchoe." nan replied. "yeah, okay, right." zoey rolled her eyes and smiled at nan as the three made there way down the hall together.
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Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 7:14 PM UTC
im going to write my own american horror story:coven fan fic here because i am bored.
fall was in the air and it was a very dreary october day. the halls of the old victorian house had been filled with new arivals and lots of noise. "i can barely hear myself think." Madison sneered, a cigarette in her hand as she stood next to zoey and nan in the hallway. looking at the new girls with disguist. "and none of these new ******* better step on my toes. this isnt ******* hogwarts." she rolled her eyes. "hogwarts." zoey laughed, making nan laugh aswell. "if this were hogwarts, you would be draco malfoy" nan joked. "hardy har har." Madison snickered. "and you would be harry potters fat cousin because your ugly and nobody loves you." madison smiled. "well, i think it's great." zoey said cheerfully. "all of these girls would feel lost and alone and now they have somewhere to belong.". "you would say that." Madison rolled her eyes. suddenly a slightly younger girl with big green eyes and long brown hair and freckles rushed up to the three of them with a gleam in her eye. "oh my god it is you! you're madison montgomery!" the girl explained. " i love you! will you sign my back pack?" the girl turned around and Madison pulled a pink highlighter out of the side of her floral backpack. her face lit up as she wrote her name on the backpack making zoey and nan smile aswell. "thank you! thank you! thank you! you're my idol." the girl blushed. "my name is Cassie motts, i've seen all of your movies, i love you! i love you! i love you!" the girl giggled. "alright.." Madison had been taken back a step. "have a great day you little ****** she smiled, a look of confusion hung upon her face. "thank you.. you dont know how much this means to me." the girl explained cheerfully and walked away. "well ladies it looks like we're the head honchoes around this **** show." Madison sighed, still slightly smiling. "i was always the head honchoe." nan replied. "yeah, okay, right." zoey rolled her eyes and smiled at nan as the three made there way down the hall together.
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2
Cheesy carnations Her delicate dimples dream She blushed, and said yes.
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Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 5:39 AM UTC
Haiku #10
*in the midst of an emerald slumbering forest laced with pungent scents of jaded wood a burgundy blushed tail of a chestnut hued fox scurries as copper sunbeams part the day a hospital lumes starkly nearby its aura exudes hints of melancholy commingled with faint impressions of halcyon futures not yet lived at neighboring dartmouth a student sprinting to class drops his crimson colored backpack the prospect of cancer far from his budding consciousness my beloved sits patiently pondering pensively his last chemo treatment elusion of death not far from his mind i feign to fend off future catastrophes watching letters scramble across my screen earnestly writing in a desperate attempt to be with him forevermore an aquamarine hummingbird drenched in tranquility senses the inverse its amber tipped wings stand seemingly stationary while it steals a quick glance through the window curious at chemical infusions meant to heal my beloved walks out of the austere building with rose colored glasses i feel that we’ll whirl on the tips of gilded stardust dancing with another chance to fly ©2016janetaylor
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Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 1:19 AM UTC
last trip to chemo
So **** confused Not sure what to think What to do... Love my bestie Crushing ******** Last night we talked He held me, told me He was attracted to me I blushed, smiled, and giggled He cuddled real close Leaned in, softly kissed my lips ........ Now I'm confused I don't know what to do That kiss was unreal ~Devil~
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May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 11:20 AM UTC
Confused
Fragmented lives entangled but asunder in our journey as our paths cosmically connect in a romance of the arts And who's to say what's real to touch or deeply feel what will truly last or simply where to start So I’ll paint you alla prima as I feel you playing me in warm colors of merging ardor a wet blending of artistry my brush strokes of your body painted in my mind of impressions blushed in passion in hues I can’t describe Suspended in the moment floating on a breeze I revel in this picture painted music almost in disbelief, unthinking… knowing every nuance of our love found only in our dreams Like children in parallel play I’ll finger the keys and slip the locks of all your orchestrations filling the walls of my concerts halls with deep splattered tones in pinks and blues the hues that forever bind us And we’ll not look back nor forward but hang here in the moment to display our Painted Song in the eyes of giggly children both doing our own thing together on a string curated
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Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 6:22 AM UTC
Painted Song
Have you forgotten how one Summer night We wandered forth together with the moon, While warm winds hummed to us a sleepy tune? Have you forgotten how you praised both light And darkness; not embarrassed yet not quite At ease? and how you said the glare of noon Less pleased you than the stars? but very soon You blushed, and seemed to doubt if you were right. We wandered far and took no note of time; Till on the air there came the distant call Of church bells: we turned hastily, and yet Ere we reached home sounded a second chime. But what; have you indeed forgotten all? Ah how then is it I cannot forget?
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14.9k
Have You Forgotten?
The introvert smirked to himself, the extrovert winked, The introvert blinked and turned his face, The extrovert pursued the look, and the introvert blushed and left the room. The extrovert shrugged and broke his stare, The extrovert forgot that he was ever there, But the introvert never forgot, ingrained in his mind was the extroverts face, The extrovert saw many people that day, too many people to recall by name, The extrovert forgot his wink, The introvert replayed his blink, For many days the introvert hid, The extrovert lived, And both were content, The introvert who sat alone, The extrovert who broke the silence, The introvert who raised his hand, The extrovert who listened, We learn our greatest lessons from living at a distance.
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Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 2:00 PM UTC
One Way Street
Already over the sea from her old spouse she comes, the blonde goddess whose frosty wheels bring day. Why do you hurry, Aurora? Hold off, so may the birds shed ritual blood each year for Memnon's shade. Now it's good to lie in my mistress's tender arms; if ever, now it's good to feel her near. Now drowsiness is richest, the morning air is cool, and birds sing shrilly from their tender throats. Why do you hurry, dreaded by men and dreaded by girls? Draw back your dewy reins with your crimson hand. The sailor marks the stars more clearly before you rise, not raoming aimlessly across the sea; the traveller, though weary, arises when you come, and the soldier sets his savage hand to arms; you're first to see the farmers wield their heavy hoes and to call slow oxen under the curving yoke; you rob boys of their sleep and give them over to schools, where tender hands must bear the savage switch; and you send reckless fools to pledge themselves in court, where they take ruinous losses through one word; the lawyer and the pleader take no delight in you, for each must rise and wrangle with new torts; and you ensure that women's chores are never done, calling the spinner's hands back to her wool. All this I'd bear; but who would bear that girls must rise at dawn, unless himself he has no girl? How many times I've wished Night would not yield to you, the stars not fade and flee before your face! How many times I've wished the wind would smash your wheels, your steeds would stumble on a cloud and fall! Jealous, why do you hurry? If your son is black, it's since his mother's heart is that same color. How I wish Tithonus could still tell tales of you: no goddess would be more disgraced in heaven. Since he is endless eons old, you rise and flee at dawn to the chariot the old man hates, but if some Cephalus were lying in your arms, you'd cry out, 'O run slowly, steeds of night! ' Why should this lover pay, if your husband withers with age? Was I the matchmaker who brought him to you? Remember how much sleep was given to her loved youth by Luna - and she's beautiful as you. The father of gods himself, to see you all the less, joined two nights into one for his desires. I'd finished my complaint. You could tell she'd heard: she blushed; and yet the day rose at its usual time.
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10.1k
Morning
Already over the sea from her old spouse she comes, the blonde goddess whose frosty wheels bring day. Why do you hurry, Aurora? Hold off, so may the birds shed ritual blood each year for Memnon's shade. Now it's good to lie in my mistress's tender arms; if ever, now it's good to feel her near. Now drowsiness is richest, the morning air is cool, and birds sing shrilly from their tender throats. Why do you hurry, dreaded by men and dreaded by girls? Draw back your dewy reins with your crimson hand. The sailor marks the stars more clearly before you rise, not raoming aimlessly across the sea; the traveller, though weary, arises when you come, and the soldier sets his savage hand to arms; you're first to see the farmers wield their heavy hoes and to call slow oxen under the curving yoke; you rob boys of their sleep and give them over to schools, where tender hands must bear the savage switch; and you send reckless fools to pledge themselves in court, where they take ruinous losses through one word; the lawyer and the pleader take no delight in you, for each must rise and wrangle with new torts; and you ensure that women's chores are never done, calling the spinner's hands back to her wool. All this I'd bear; but who would bear that girls must rise at dawn, unless himself he has no girl? How many times I've wished Night would not yield to you, the stars not fade and flee before your face! How many times I've wished the wind would smash your wheels, your steeds would stumble on a cloud and fall! Jealous, why do you hurry? If your son is black, it's since his mother's heart is that same color. How I wish Tithonus could still tell tales of you: no goddess would be more disgraced in heaven. Since he is endless eons old, you rise and flee at dawn to the chariot the old man hates, but if some Cephalus were lying in your arms, you'd cry out, 'O run slowly, steeds of night! ' Why should this lover pay, if your husband withers with age? Was I the matchmaker who brought him to you? Remember how much sleep was given to her loved youth by Luna - and she's beautiful as you. The father of gods himself, to see you all the less, joined two nights into one for his desires. I'd finished my complaint. You could tell she'd heard: she blushed; and yet the day rose at its usual time.
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46
Let me simplify What it is He felt it in your eyes He read it in your words He knew it when you smile He appreciates you so much He sensed the fragrance in air He started to trust your forever He noticed when you get blushed Remember How warmly He calls you, a rose It can be No other than THE LOVE
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Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 11:52 PM UTC
Naive
I saw him in a K-Vibe store His sight melted my ice-hard core. He saw me watching and smiled at me. Walked the short distance, my heart filling with glee. Our hands brushed, We both blushed, And then I noticed the thing that broke the love spell He was wearing an EXO hoodie And I a BTS sweat with koya smell And hence we couldn't be together for I am an ARMY and he an EXO-L
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Dec 8, 2018
Dec 8, 2018 at 12:45 PM UTC
An EXO-L
I shuffled down the hallway Trying to stay out of view Peeking down the walkway To catch a glimpse of you But just as i heard you laugh You looked over my way I was smiling in a dreamy trance As our eyes met that day Your beautiful ocean hue Made it hard to look away But I broke the gaze and knew Id see them once more that night when I lay. I blushed and we both passed He smiled and turned to leave I looked back for one time last To find him looking at me.
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Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC
Flirting with Your Eyes
You called me Love And I froze All I could do is smile And blush I wanted to say Something back I wanted to Call you love Or Anything But I just Smiled and blushed
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Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
"Love"
Skin blushed peach on snow white cheeks Luster and grandeur not seen by the meek Intrinsically dominant furnace of femininity Dither and hither be stricken for insincerity If you try to speak to her expect less then levity To your advances she implies depravity Blatantly ignorant vacuous blond ***** Tell me again how I hate you and want ***
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Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 10:05 AM UTC
feminist extremists or did you even know the equal rights movement was never ratified?
Bad luck didn't stop us. We walked, gazed at the colored trees, you at my eyes. The leaves on the ground I saw when I blushed. A lot. Violet red, pointed, wet leaves, scattered. Around us. The rain fell but you held me. I listened and smiled. How perfect, You're too sweet. Expectations replaced with actuality. Fear for what comes next.
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Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 10:56 PM UTC
Double Popsicle Sticks
And Then I Met Her It was our first meet When i saw her My heart skipped a beat I was on one side of the road And She on the other Everything was in my favor and yes that weather. As, i got close to her She got blushed. Her cheeks turned red as Petals of a flower. Her relishing antics, her blushing cheeks And her cute expression. I couldn't take my eyes off for the session. She drove me crazy She was looking beautiful like daisy. Starring at each other's eyes was making a beautiful sound. And made me feel as if there was no one around. The way she put her hand on the chin. I'm falling fa you, i said with a grin. I noticed that smile on her face. And i was thinking her to embrace. She's an Ocean, her eyes deep sea-blue I failed reading those as she left no clue.
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Apr 2, 2020
Apr 2, 2020 at 1:16 AM UTC
And Then I Met Her
Tea Talk (or Taking Tea) Jam comes first And then the cream Said the scone from Cornwall To one ‘n’ all Taking tea Milk jug blinked. The teaspoon gasped, Who would have linked The layers of bliss that sweetly kiss With their order between the halves of a scone From Cornwall Where one ‘n’ all Know that the milk is churned Until it’s solid Then we say the cream is clotted. The teapot looked at the scone from Devon Who knows that cream and jam is heaven But only if the cream comes first And then the jam . . . . . My thoughts exactly said the ham From between its sandwich fingers Where it lingers Until it’s time for tea. ‘Are you sure?’ the teacup said To ham within its breaden bed. Saucer asked the cucumber salad, ‘Should jam come first?’ ‘But does it matter?’ said cucumber salad. ‘It’s a ballad So red and white, A symphony of taste Into which to bite. It is so right For those who are taking tea,’ ‘Jam then cream, is what you do,’ Insisted Cornwall’s scone who As we know likes cream to be clotted. But tomato blushed and quickly said, ‘With cream from Devon I am besotted Because we know it’s clotted. . . . . Too. Onion, hearing Cornwall and Devon Knows that cream and jam are heaven . . . . . But jam and cream are bliss Sealed with a kiss that is heaven . . . . .too. The dilemma of order fuels onion’s frustration And onion’s tears lead to prostration For those who are taking tea. What is to be done To solve the question of order Jam first . . . . . or cream? The issue borders On the ridiculous As the layers sweetly intermingle Like the lovers’ kiss As those who are taking tea Bite . . . . . Ouch! said onion The scone from Cornwall And the scone from Devon ‘Either way is heaven. David Applin Copyright …David Applin (2015)
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May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 7:13 AM UTC
Tea Talk (or Taking Tea)
Tea Talk (or Taking Tea) Jam comes first And then the cream Said the scone from Cornwall To one ‘n’ all Taking tea Milk jug blinked. The teaspoon gasped, Who would have linked The layers of bliss that sweetly kiss With their order between the halves of a scone From Cornwall Where one ‘n’ all Know that the milk is churned Until it’s solid Then we say the cream is clotted. The teapot looked at the scone from Devon Who knows that cream and jam is heaven But only if the cream comes first And then the jam . . . . . My thoughts exactly said the ham From between its sandwich fingers Where it lingers Until it’s time for tea. ‘Are you sure?’ the teacup said To ham within its breaden bed. Saucer asked the cucumber salad, ‘Should jam come first?’ ‘But does it matter?’ said cucumber salad. ‘It’s a ballad So red and white, A symphony of taste Into which to bite. It is so right For those who are taking tea,’ ‘Jam then cream, is what you do,’ Insisted Cornwall’s scone who As we know likes cream to be clotted. But tomato blushed and quickly said, ‘With cream from Devon I am besotted Because we know it’s clotted. . . . . Too. Onion, hearing Cornwall and Devon Knows that cream and jam are heaven . . . . . But jam and cream are bliss Sealed with a kiss that is heaven . . . . .too. The dilemma of order fuels onion’s frustration And onion’s tears lead to prostration For those who are taking tea. What is to be done To solve the question of order Jam first . . . . . or cream? The issue borders On the ridiculous As the layers sweetly intermingle Like the lovers’ kiss As those who are taking tea Bite . . . . . Ouch! said onion The scone from Cornwall And the scone from Devon ‘Either way is heaven. David Applin Copyright …David Applin (2015)
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64
Though nurtured like the sailing moon In beauty's murderous brood, She walked awhile and blushed awhile And on my pathway stood Until I thought her body bore A heart of flesh and blood. But since I laid a hand thereon And found a heart of stone I have attempted many things And not a thing is done, For every hand is lunatic That travels on the moon. She smiled and that transfigured me And left me but a lout, Maundering here, and maundering there, Emptier of thought Than the heavenly circuit of its stars When the moon sails out.
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6.5k
A Man Young And Old: I. First Love
- he was eighteen his cheeks blushed with embarrassment which quickly stroke his eyes with fire it erupted like a volcano to his hand where it curled up as fist of anger soon to hit me like thunder - and I eleven
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Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 12:11 PM UTC
Siblings love
The pockets of our greatcoats full of barley... No kitchens on the run, no striking camp... We moved quick and sudden in our own country. The priest lay behind ditches with the ***** A people hardly marching... on the hike... We found new tactics happening each day: We'd cut through reins and rider with the pike And stampede cattle into infantry, Then retreat through hedges where cavalry must be thrown. Until... on Vinegar Hill... the final conclave. Terraced thousands died, shaking scythes at cannon. The hillside blushed, soaked in our broken wave. They buried us without shroud or coffin And in August... the barley grew up out of our grave.
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5.9k
Requiem for the Croppies
There, she lies on the altar Almost held the sun she— almost in her hands Opened up, a rose-bud chaste petal by petal by blood, with a sting, so sweet and sweet, as sunset reborn a bee; she was gold and silver and black at once. Almost held the sun she— and no wax wings used Oh, Icarus, love you did a wild sky, — yourself a light-licked doom   as your father cried, Your father cried for you. A veil as simple sour starlight she wore as wings of wasps as beetles she giggled Icarus, flew that you —and with tongue-tied elation too Icarus, she rambled on for hours long. A letter she held in spring kissed hands —I will wed you to the sun, her father had sworn. The sun—and a sun he was, child of the sea, some sword in honey dipped; now her awaiting. And blushed she did herself a dawn The altar, on the altar. Almost held the sun she— Swallowed a mayhem for the father's sin. Icarus, tell me of the plummet. Tell me of the greens you saw, of blues, of whites, of the whirling world— Men go around around her their soles all ready to crush lost skulls an empty moor. Twirling, the dust, like may have her hair before the wedding day Strands and strands, gently styled— Spears, swords, rubbed to mirrors, to lakes lifeless Armors and ships laden with life, with sails, the fluttering doves; As the winds dance once more— as harbors vacated, as waves torn apart for the horde, as move they on— on too the sun— as She still lies. Icarus, Icarus, was it the ocean that cupped its palms, or did the soil cave in as down into dark's slick throat you slid? Surely, was soft, the sea's well-loved mouth, Surely soft or true She lies on the altar a trinket glossy on a hoof, a ****** in the bell, how does one say— the valley of lilies, she grew it inside. Spilled out on the stones, they are fed to the flies. Almost held the sun she— Icarus, must you know You did not sleep a wretched silence within the womb of war. No crescent blades you drank down a leaking throat— She lies on the altar, vanquished for moon — for metal upon bone for blood, for blood, for blood. A father’s green promise— Seasoned to rust before the king Icarus, on the altar she lies— a ripened land far, far away lures her king to another rosy worship. Icarus, Icarus, on the altar
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Aug 3, 2021
Aug 3, 2021 at 7:45 AM UTC
Iphigenia
There, she lies on the altar Almost held the sun she— almost in her hands Opened up, a rose-bud chaste petal by petal by blood, with a sting, so sweet and sweet, as sunset reborn a bee; she was gold and silver and black at once. Almost held the sun she— and no wax wings used Oh, Icarus, love you did a wild sky, — yourself a light-licked doom   as your father cried, Your father cried for you. A veil as simple sour starlight she wore as wings of wasps as beetles she giggled Icarus, flew that you —and with tongue-tied elation too Icarus, she rambled on for hours long. A letter she held in spring kissed hands —I will wed you to the sun, her father had sworn. The sun—and a sun he was, child of the sea, some sword in honey dipped; now her awaiting. And blushed she did herself a dawn The altar, on the altar. Almost held the sun she— Swallowed a mayhem for the father's sin. Icarus, tell me of the plummet. Tell me of the greens you saw, of blues, of whites, of the whirling world— Men go around around her their soles all ready to crush lost skulls an empty moor. Twirling, the dust, like may have her hair before the wedding day Strands and strands, gently styled— Spears, swords, rubbed to mirrors, to lakes lifeless Armors and ships laden with life, with sails, the fluttering doves; As the winds dance once more— as harbors vacated, as waves torn apart for the horde, as move they on— on too the sun— as She still lies. Icarus, Icarus, was it the ocean that cupped its palms, or did the soil cave in as down into dark's slick throat you slid? Surely, was soft, the sea's well-loved mouth, Surely soft or true She lies on the altar a trinket glossy on a hoof, a ****** in the bell, how does one say— the valley of lilies, she grew it inside. Spilled out on the stones, they are fed to the flies. Almost held the sun she— Icarus, must you know You did not sleep a wretched silence within the womb of war. No crescent blades you drank down a leaking throat— She lies on the altar, vanquished for moon — for metal upon bone for blood, for blood, for blood. A father’s green promise— Seasoned to rust before the king Icarus, on the altar she lies— a ripened land far, far away lures her king to another rosy worship. Icarus, Icarus, on the altar
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72
While the snow reveals its keenest love for the sun ; Its snowflakes start to dance and  it melts with blush ...
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Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 2:24 PM UTC
Blushed Snow :$
In a tiny bitter lemon tree there sat an orange, quite obese, dreaming an ice-cream-reverie: I would like a scoop of rasperry… „That cheeky orange“, spoke the lemon tree, tries to spoil our yellow purity! Where upon the orange blushed. „Now you look like a strawberry“ laughed a bumblebee licking ice-cream happily.
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May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 4:57 AM UTC
Lemons.
Upon a morning dreary I took a **** which left my ******* weary I wiped I flushed I exited the bathroom blushed Twelve hours passed Since that horrid **** left my *** And low and behold A smell flowed to my nose Just as a burning arose Underneath my ******* I knew too late the **** had stained The flesh, my taint tucked under my ******** train ONE WIPE WAS NOT ENOUGH... Pretty soon around six o'clock There came upon my door a knock knock knock And who was there? Who did I hear calling to my ears? It was the *** positive, gonarreah infested, scabies encrusted, syphilis ridden, transexual sex-kitten I had started a relationship with over Craig's List Now, listen children carefully to this... ***** tucked hisher's lips around hisher's teeth And began a ******* that could make the Hulk weak But it was over in a jif When ***** caught a wiff And that little sneak Took a pervy peak At the feces widely spread underneath ***** RAN AWAY CRYING I was laughing so hard I thought I was dying That pesky little poo Left on hisher bottom lip Made that entire bathroom trip FULLFILLING
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Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 9:14 PM UTC
The **** Stuck Under My Sack
Lacquer metal, finest degree Eggshell maiden dancing, skirts turned free Tossed leaf nestle, a glory in a hidden theatre Dark privileged passions creep in and listen. The dirt around your feet compacted, The dress around your friends contrived But you look so natural in those seams of transplacental Defied by the native over-leaf What privileged thought found comfort there What Rubenesqued dresses blushed in joy At white marble hugging thought And privileged smells adorning your excitement The path beyond your feet leads nowhere For your sight spins where your eyebrows lead Round and round in close circles Amongst those eyes who cracked your paint
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Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 5:12 AM UTC
The Dance (Les Fétes vénitiennes)