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"breezing" poems
I love everything about you. I love your smell, from the way your cologne and deodorant sticks to your freshly washed skin to the way your natural musk smells when you sweat through a hot summer night stuck to me. I love how your skin is always soft, it brushes up against my thighs and cheeks like a blanket of the highest quality. Your voice is deep, but comforting and I adore all the sounds your body makes, especially the little grunts and sighs. When you speak soft words in my ear, I just melt into soft butter and I even love the way your silly words tease me, even when I get upset. Your bone structure is manly, but in a way that your body wraps around mine ideally when we hug. The way your eyes sparkle in the sunshine is like fairy dust and I could get lost in your gaze forever. Your hand fits into mine perfectly and your tongue twists perfectly with mine when our lips collide. The movement of your hips with mine is like a metronome to my heart. All you could do is sleep and eat and I would never get tired of watching you. If you were a colour, you would be your favourite, purple, because it represents devotion, pride, mystery, magic and nobility. If you were a smell, it would be freshly cut grass on an early summer morning. Most people would say love feels like a sunny summer day, but ours is like one of those spring days where the temperature is fit for flowy dresses, but the sky is filled with some dark clouds that pass in the evening and there is a slight warm wind breezing through everyone's hair. Every single evening when you tell me you love me over the phone my stomach flutters with butterflies. As an item, you would be my favourite comfy old sweater. I love every single imperfection on your skin and in your soul. If I were to describe hanging out and having fun with you, the closest thing I could compare it to is the first bite of a freshly baked warm cinnamon pastry. I used to hate the idea of life, but if we were to create a family I would actually want to grow old with you. If there exists a heaven, it would be us sharing a fresh lemonade and chuckling next to a lake where tiny birds chirp and eat the crumbs of the bread we baked together. If you were a drink, you would be high quality whiskey and lastly, if you were a person, you would be mine.
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Aug 15, 2023
Aug 15, 2023 at 6:49 PM UTC
For him
I love everything about you. I love your smell, from the way your cologne and deodorant sticks to your freshly washed skin to the way your natural musk smells when you sweat through a hot summer night stuck to me. I love how your skin is always soft, it brushes up against my thighs and cheeks like a blanket of the highest quality. Your voice is deep, but comforting and I adore all the sounds your body makes, especially the little grunts and sighs. When you speak soft words in my ear, I just melt into soft butter and I even love the way your silly words tease me, even when I get upset. Your bone structure is manly, but in a way that your body wraps around mine ideally when we hug. The way your eyes sparkle in the sunshine is like fairy dust and I could get lost in your gaze forever. Your hand fits into mine perfectly and your tongue twists perfectly with mine when our lips collide. The movement of your hips with mine is like a metronome to my heart. All you could do is sleep and eat and I would never get tired of watching you. If you were a colour, you would be your favourite, purple, because it represents devotion, pride, mystery, magic and nobility. If you were a smell, it would be freshly cut grass on an early summer morning. Most people would say love feels like a sunny summer day, but ours is like one of those spring days where the temperature is fit for flowy dresses, but the sky is filled with some dark clouds that pass in the evening and there is a slight warm wind breezing through everyone's hair. Every single evening when you tell me you love me over the phone my stomach flutters with butterflies. As an item, you would be my favourite comfy old sweater. I love every single imperfection on your skin and in your soul. If I were to describe hanging out and having fun with you, the closest thing I could compare it to is the first bite of a freshly baked warm cinnamon pastry. I used to hate the idea of life, but if we were to create a family I would actually want to grow old with you. If there exists a heaven, it would be us sharing a fresh lemonade and chuckling next to a lake where tiny birds chirp and eat the crumbs of the bread we baked together. If you were a drink, you would be high quality whiskey and lastly, if you were a person, you would be mine.
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2
i sit there with the cool wind breezing against my face while the summer sizzles on my shoulders your golden thigh sticks to my skin as we drive to the game every god **** week the boys they sit in the back and pack their lips and talk **** about the girls the girls who don't realize that they're their easy targets who skip around in their short, tight dresses they talk about their waists and the way they like to moan every little imperfection all avail have they shown they think that it makes them buff they think that it makes them cool and i let them light their egos and sometimes i chirp on too but yet i sit and listen and sometimes i think they don't realize that i'm a girl too i don't know how i feel about that
0
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 4:57 PM UTC
riding in cars with boys
Which one you choose; whatever? Jimbaran, Kota or Nosadua happiness inside leaves us forever Took pictures with terrace rice fields background thinking of hanging on the wall around dancing decor all surrounds; echoing sounds Looking for the bedcover pink and blue Cotton floral design so beautiful true when we can use it without a clue Having a candle lit dinner on Uluwatu cliff beside a table without a script, a band of music breezing air across the ocean; not restrict Tasting Luwak coffee on way to Mount Butar the buffet was not super but we felt like Michelin cook rooster Thinking of happy ever after We went for banana boating I was afraid of chocking though it was floating while you're holding me tight but soaking Now you are there without me I'm sure your eyes will be full of tears of the memories can we call it tragedy?
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Dec 31, 2018
Dec 31, 2018 at 1:57 AM UTC
A trip to Bali
The power of the mind I have heard those words Thought them to be nothing more Than just a play on words But not today, oh, not today It was the yellow sweater I saw first I know right!! YELLOW sweater Let's just let that go Then the face, your face The one I have been trying so hard not to forget Those eyes I could not stare into for more than a few seconds For they always seem  to be staring back at my soul Saying I know what you are thinking, I can see your heart beating I could not contain myself, like an open book I let out a smile, My OMG-IT-IS-REALLY-YOU! smile Hidden behind the HAPPY-NEW-YEAR, LONG-TIME-NO-SEE greetings Oh I believe!!!! I am a believer!!! i believe in its power The power of the mind, My mind, The one you have been breezing in and out Of like a ghost, the friendly one though Whispering your name in calligraphic puffs of air Once or twice for the past couple of weeks Now you are here, standing in front of me The 3rd time today, asking if you had changed in anyway And I saying just saying "No" When all I was screaming inside to say was Yes!!!! Your fine self is finer than the last time I laid eyes on you. ©Belema .S. Ekine ©belemascribbles
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Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 7:09 AM UTC
YELLOW SWEATER
A moment. That's all it took. We started with nothing, but created what turned out to be the best time of my life. We took a walk, no destination in mind. Ended up in the woods. Walking, talking, laughing. Just loving the lives we were living. An unknown path, led us to where we are today . A quiet hill, calmly overlooking the lake. Waves crashing on the shore. Wind breezing through the trees. A moment we sat. We talked about the summer, for it was the first day. Ideas turned to plans, plans turned to set dates. A moment we planned. We planned what turned out to be the most amazing memories we've made. Maybe the best we'll ever come to make. A moment we were alive. Now we sit, remembering those days. Enduring the pain of the new Now. Wishing we were there once more, away from the hell we've come to know as today. A moment we reminisce. I hope to never forget those days. Without you I wouldn't be who I am today. Without me you claim the same. A moment we changed. But forever we will love.
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Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 9:21 PM UTC
A Moment
***I was lost on the pavement Along the corridors Who left me unspoke through the scattered bloods That left me hang on a cliff My eyes was beneath the aftershock But all I could do is to stare at the ceiling No words to be found nor sounds could form Only the laugh,scream and yells of the crowd The thunderstorm,chill of the breezing air Wants me to follow the serene. My catatonic blueprinted smile was fainted Schizophrenia that I could last at the moment And yet an honorific began to squeeze me There were thousands of people But I could feel like im on the spotted arena If I could shout out loud and escape from the reality then I'd go save by the bell.***
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Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 3:53 AM UTC
Lost I (teaser for gangsta poet)
it's a beautiful day today my favorite weather is when the sun tenderly kisses my cheeks and freckled shoulders i see kids carelessly riding their bikes and wind breezing through the branches of tall trees and i think of you i think of how it would be to lay in the middle of a soft green field with our arms touching and your hand holding mine i wonder what animal you'd say the clouds look like and if you'd pick a flower to place behind my ear and look into my eyes to tell me i'm more breathtaking than any daisy that has ever been quenched by summer rain i think about you a lot, and i know today would be even more beautiful with you by my side
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May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 12:09 PM UTC
you
Sparrow's twitter From the dawn of Hearing the hassle of Myna This morning Or the Singing Cuckoo Of yesterday afternoon Read the language of their time When they say it certainly As the Morning Evenings Or mid of the Summer noon Read their body language When they are sounding Beside window Or playing In the lake water Draw my attention But I don't understand Completely Assume It is a pester Argue with friends Or by calling the dear At this time, We say that the Spring Or Say any unspoken Dream Seeking through the Bridge That breezing over Heart And The Soul You invite The spring comes But I do not understand So what are the Give your tunes I sorted the words Whatever may be the tune Guess again, Or partial But they say We see Hear Their songs Their mother tongue They pointed out that Indicates Each other To visit the open sky Afield Dance with the wind It also has to Entertained Any pain that may be broken Their heart Playing a melancholy tune Which refers to the words Of their mother The words Of the Nature Realizes that we But  never try to feel with the heart
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Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 1:33 PM UTC
The language of birds
I've drank the finest of wine Down to the bottom of the bottle Only to witness an ocean alone Barely surviving my own hands A fire burned through my viens That was blew out by the wind Breezing through the leaves A calmness that sits with me Before calmness dismisses me I walked across the tallest blue sky Where wide winged birds soar high Til promises of white clouds turn grey And so there I fell with the rain Dripping through the lowest gutter Many times I was buried, lying in dirt Like a grave, needing no help Finding the dark inside of myself But I always rise with the blades Of the greenest fresh spring grass No matter what feeling I catch None of them seem to everlast
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Feb 18, 2020
Feb 18, 2020 at 9:47 AM UTC
Comes and goes
do not call me a liar when you're sailing your boat into vinegar seas because my knobby knees crushed you with ease and you cried "don't hurt me, please, please, please." i wanted you dead for all the wrong reasons i killed you with time through the four seasons there isn't anything more pleasing than your cotton mouth teasing my long hair breezing and you were sick with the flu, always sneezing, sneezing, sneezing. (a.m.c.)
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Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
{sneezing, sneezing, sneezing}
O, beautiful songs, please come to my mind, through my body,through every vein  of  my part, O, breezing with superior white flower scents, breeze, breeze,breeze , whirling, buzzing at a slow speed through the desert, Lets help blooming the rising buds, O, beautiful songs.....
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Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 2:44 PM UTC
Song,Song,Song...
Your words spit and dribble down your chin, forcing my hands to reach and catch them with my fingertips. Silence finds a sultry kiss within the static we fulfill in. I hear the grasps in your breath, wrapping around my neck until we’re both wheezing for another chance to live. I knew you wanted me to exhale a puddle of sighs at your front door before I left without a word. There’s red ash staining my palms — digging it’s crimson dust into my lungs ‘til I see fire in your eyes. I burn for you. I feel a chill into my brain, breezing through the memories I’ve sustained. And the nostalgia is darker than everything I’ve blown into your veins, but it still tastes like regret. Hold my neck the first time we licked each other’s wounds, and tomorrow I’ll salt them ‘til they are stone. And in a week I’ll pick the scab and remember you as a scar.
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Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 1:07 PM UTC
I Burn For You
Most of the southern portion Of Argentina I stand alone Waiting In Buenos Aires For the elevation of my love Entirely free of her stones A statue shapely face With granite and crystalline rock Windy plateaus Breezing along the Rio Colorado Memories remain deep While my heart ponders I've so much blood in war To a woman Lady Eva Is her name Rings out in whispers In my ear so ghostly Our youth was so boldly But beautiful Her departure Deposit streams of tears That aches many nights I screamed out in agony And found myself in shame Now, I'm left alone and lost To a time Of past history How can an unsuccessful love Prison a desire That is worsen Than a sharpen sword A buried faith I cannot bring back
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Jun 28, 2010
Jun 28, 2010 at 7:43 AM UTC
An Argentina Affair
Breezing past the seasons, Ocean breeze releases. Pedaling with our knees, us, And our music blaring, see us, See our smiles, you can read us. The air is there to feed us. He pedals on like she does, Finding happiness is there to greet us.
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Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 10:35 PM UTC
Pacific Coast Highway
I sit on the rooftop of my home above the city traffic breezing through the stark streets, their shadowed tires playing various musical notes upon the glorious surface, swirling smoke from engines twisting and twirling in the rising air, the deep shifting sun wearing it’s majestic crown, gazing at the beautiful scenery glittering in its eyesight, my bright brown eyes staring at a mountain of lyrical content, a stunning sheet filled with blazing melodies, a magnificent instrument strumming its skills upon a drumming landscape, an amazing vocal pattern hip-hopping into a dominion of amplifying layers, each time changing into a collection of crystal clears, resurrecting a roaring sea of swagging infinities flying into future constellations, while suntanned trees swing a swift beat, rocking in outer worlds far from earth, marching leaves sinking in magical passion and dancing dreams, breathing in the eternal existence of tranquility, letting it seep inside their frames and intensify their minds, letting its philosophy of uncharted depths exhale a wave of genius creations, a glowing gem existing beyond Venus and Mars, further distant than any galaxies known to mankind.  As I sit on this creative platform of timeless brilliance, I can feel the echoing breeze whispering in my ears, its smooth monotone sounds stinging my soul,every essence of my being, igniting a fire spinning kingdom of raw and gritty poetry inside my heart.
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Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 11:19 AM UTC
Fire Spinning Kingdom
The mesmerizing sounds of nature echoed through my ears It was a blissful morning we both agreed, With his cup of coffee in one hand and cigarette in the other we talked for over an hour on that beautiful porch, breezing through every little topic These mornings are what I live for good conversation, coffee, and a pack of cigarettes.
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Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 8:58 AM UTC
These Mornings
Whispering winds... beyond breezing- snow falls down... blowing, freezing. Loneliness aids... tedious crying- living, hating... loving, dying. Pale skies... winter showing- devours sunlight... shadows growing. Fate it lurks... quietly calling- screaming, running... whispering, falling. Leaves chasing... nature stealing- bitter flurry.... whipping, reeling. Rain dropping... falling, streaming- whims, wishes... foolishly dreaming. Nights so cold... never warming- nightmares, you... ever swarming. Dwindling light... dying within- darkness falls... on a heart of sin.
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Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 10:51 PM UTC
Darkness Falls
bobbing up and down in the azure blue sky brightly colored air filled spheres big or small their sizes maybe bringing much enjoyment to the viewer's eye baskets attached have people standing in them breezing above tranquil lakes and verdant glens brothers Joseph and Jacques Montgolfier invented them
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Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 4:51 AM UTC
Balloons of The Hot Air Variety (Pleiades Poem)
I first would like to apologize for getting rather mad, calling you a stupid ***** and saying it was a “hit and run” to the police, also in hindsight spitting at you was not cool. I feel bad about it now, and it will haunt me for a while, or at least until something else comes up. You shattered my wings, granted they were glass wings and when you’re throwing yourself through the narrowest possible canyons getting hit is almost certain still, it ***** the wind out of you, even if just for a second. I love jumping through canyons daring gravity to do its worst, but I was playing by the rules, respecting nature or at least I planned on not breezing by the sides as much. I guess its habit now, to risk getting shattered for the freedom of movement in a restricted space. I swear when I hit the ground I was ready to walk away I was intact. Ready to continue on my way and saying “yeah I’m fine”, learn nothing and find smaller canyons. but when I saw the bird you hit, my brain sprinted for the worst. That knocked the wind out of me. Instantly I thought it was completely ****** and while I still do have my wings, you shattered part of my glass illusion. Thank god for repair shops. You see you own the skies your kind controls the canyons walls, make them zig then zag that way. Sure their are bigger gods, but they only show up from time to time. I’m part of the skies but my only possible responsibility is to not hit the birds. The rules say I need to act like you, but the rulers let us fly our own ways. The bigger gods understand or just don’t care. So next time just know that the rules are not the ones in physics textbooks, those are often confusing and require years worth of reading, of understanding billions of acceptions of knowing what the hell centripetal force is, and being able to solve painful multi variable calculus problems the way physics actually works is what happens when the winds take glass and you, being a god got careless and broke the laws of physics.
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Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
To the women whose car I got hit by
I first would like to apologize for getting rather mad, calling you a stupid ***** and saying it was a “hit and run” to the police, also in hindsight spitting at you was not cool. I feel bad about it now, and it will haunt me for a while, or at least until something else comes up. You shattered my wings, granted they were glass wings and when you’re throwing yourself through the narrowest possible canyons getting hit is almost certain still, it ***** the wind out of you, even if just for a second. I love jumping through canyons daring gravity to do its worst, but I was playing by the rules, respecting nature or at least I planned on not breezing by the sides as much. I guess its habit now, to risk getting shattered for the freedom of movement in a restricted space. I swear when I hit the ground I was ready to walk away I was intact. Ready to continue on my way and saying “yeah I’m fine”, learn nothing and find smaller canyons. but when I saw the bird you hit, my brain sprinted for the worst. That knocked the wind out of me. Instantly I thought it was completely ****** and while I still do have my wings, you shattered part of my glass illusion. Thank god for repair shops. You see you own the skies your kind controls the canyons walls, make them zig then zag that way. Sure their are bigger gods, but they only show up from time to time. I’m part of the skies but my only possible responsibility is to not hit the birds. The rules say I need to act like you, but the rulers let us fly our own ways. The bigger gods understand or just don’t care. So next time just know that the rules are not the ones in physics textbooks, those are often confusing and require years worth of reading, of understanding billions of acceptions of knowing what the hell centripetal force is, and being able to solve painful multi variable calculus problems the way physics actually works is what happens when the winds take glass and you, being a god got careless and broke the laws of physics.
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48
Through a vision in my dream, I see her there standing a smile, unpainted, authentic and real, hopeful opening the door, I feel a smile emerge, and the butterflies oh they kick within me, like a life is growing there a baby in sight, with no bump or pulse, just a gathering of fluttering wings, that should I rip my chest open out they would fly, a mélange of colours and shapes purple swallowtails, adonis blues, lacewings, painted ladies and finally, my favourite, the Menelaus Blue Morpho escorted by the Duke of Burgundy, my springtime hero each flutter, each movement, a collection from the continents my self, my soul, my body has travelled, wanderlust keepsakes of beauty and bliss, bordering on extinction safe within me in a heartbeat they cover my whole self, they move around my body my legs tremble, barely able to hold, this grown woman upright a gulp, a gasp, a stare in wonder, speechless, tongue tied, dazed, dumb, silent my head empties, no thought passes, the parietal lobe vanishes adrenaline is racing through my body faster than the light hitting my eyes moments later I find vocal sound waves breezing past my ears they are in slow motion, her voice mumbled, incoherent she touches me and I jump in fright, my eyes adjust, my heartbeat slows down, my legs steady "Rachel!" "Rachel!" I wake up alone. © Sia Jane --- *"In through the window a moonbeam comes,— Little gold moonbeam with misty wings; All silently creeping, it asks, "Is he sleeping— Sleeping and dreaming while mother sings?"* Eugene Field
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Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 7:02 PM UTC
Dreamscape
Through a vision in my dream, I see her there standing a smile, unpainted, authentic and real, hopeful opening the door, I feel a smile emerge, and the butterflies oh they kick within me, like a life is growing there a baby in sight, with no bump or pulse, just a gathering of fluttering wings, that should I rip my chest open out they would fly, a mélange of colours and shapes purple swallowtails, adonis blues, lacewings, painted ladies and finally, my favourite, the Menelaus Blue Morpho escorted by the Duke of Burgundy, my springtime hero each flutter, each movement, a collection from the continents my self, my soul, my body has travelled, wanderlust keepsakes of beauty and bliss, bordering on extinction safe within me in a heartbeat they cover my whole self, they move around my body my legs tremble, barely able to hold, this grown woman upright a gulp, a gasp, a stare in wonder, speechless, tongue tied, dazed, dumb, silent my head empties, no thought passes, the parietal lobe vanishes adrenaline is racing through my body faster than the light hitting my eyes moments later I find vocal sound waves breezing past my ears they are in slow motion, her voice mumbled, incoherent she touches me and I jump in fright, my eyes adjust, my heartbeat slows down, my legs steady "Rachel!" "Rachel!" I wake up alone. © Sia Jane --- *"In through the window a moonbeam comes,— Little gold moonbeam with misty wings; All silently creeping, it asks, "Is he sleeping— Sleeping and dreaming while mother sings?"* Eugene Field
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33
A fine line, in between The life I have and my dream My sheets are freezing My passion is breezing My lonely bed is cold I may not be the one Who wipes your tears I may not be the soul You lit, to warm yours I’m just one more fading soul, Has more tears to tear And more fears to fear Just one more broken heart Needs to find its destined island, In your stormy ocean Needs to survive its destined life, When sipping your potion Look at me with your hazy eyes Hold me close with your love And let your lips, be my salvation
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Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 11:48 AM UTC
Before I go to bed...
The water's dreamy, slowly flowing Between the corners of the streets, Adorned brightly with lantern lights, While the midnight wind is blowing. Their moony, rosy brows are glowing, At the breezing Kyoto nights, Presenting to many crowds sights Who're beautiful, while on they're going. A maiko here, a geisha there, Fleeting around in the bright moonbeams, Like sakura petals on a spring-night. I ask, they are going to where, Besides just ending up in dreams With their paints who're red and white?
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Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 8:21 AM UTC
Kyoto's Butterflies
It's been a lonely morning, but perhaps, I was in need of one. After staring at shaded yellow walls, at every hour of the night, and feeling anger sharpen to some light, At 7 a.m, I finally fell fast asleep, my walls were slowly becoming bright. I woke up 4 hours later to the opening of a door, one that was expected for long ago. The sides of my head were biting my brain, and my teeth on lip bites gave way for pain, I got up and got dressed, no coffee, no rest, I went for a walk, in need of a talk, but sat in a park sipping black alone, and watched the white on which sun softly shone, and the air slightly breezing, this bone of mine freezing, a dog interrupting, I headed down the lonely street, staring at my lonely slow feet, counting my numerous steps, and seeing a nest? I saw a beautiful bird in a tree, and it's true a lot of memories came back to me. It hoarsely cawed and gave me attention, another passer-by, just one of the Menschen. I stood and watched its desired Display, He stood on a roof and gave flight a nay. Tucked its wings in for the very last second, he dropped beak-first and I have to admit, I was a little afraid. When cement was an inch away, his black wings rose, and extended from his small body the wind pulled him back, his head prostrated backwards, his eyes met my own and he cawed. The three of us we belonged to each other, with wordless agreement that said She, the Mother. "Have trust in me, you will fly and and you will fall, this time is not yours, However, this here, this is your call. I know it moves slow, and it gives you a shudder, but have trust in me, I am your Mother." I ignored Her words, and descended the road, felt the earth flicker, a disrupted candle- The wind, was to blame for its cruel games. A door opened after many steps, the flights were long, and the wind did not help. I opened my window, gave breath to the tree, and She crept in, She humored me, "One day your shivering bones, will be under those stones, and that bowl will be full with your fleshy Müll. You'll feel the stillness, see the Flicker for you, this cement all ready and new, awaiting your beak, hopes for your red leak." "It'll be me with your breath, and your longing thirst, but first," She gave me her hand, and I saw wrinkles of ages, and so that I might repay, or perhaps even Replay I gave her my hand and said, "Lead the way."
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Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 2:33 AM UTC
A Magpie.
It's been a lonely morning, but perhaps, I was in need of one. After staring at shaded yellow walls, at every hour of the night, and feeling anger sharpen to some light, At 7 a.m, I finally fell fast asleep, my walls were slowly becoming bright. I woke up 4 hours later to the opening of a door, one that was expected for long ago. The sides of my head were biting my brain, and my teeth on lip bites gave way for pain, I got up and got dressed, no coffee, no rest, I went for a walk, in need of a talk, but sat in a park sipping black alone, and watched the white on which sun softly shone, and the air slightly breezing, this bone of mine freezing, a dog interrupting, I headed down the lonely street, staring at my lonely slow feet, counting my numerous steps, and seeing a nest? I saw a beautiful bird in a tree, and it's true a lot of memories came back to me. It hoarsely cawed and gave me attention, another passer-by, just one of the Menschen. I stood and watched its desired Display, He stood on a roof and gave flight a nay. Tucked its wings in for the very last second, he dropped beak-first and I have to admit, I was a little afraid. When cement was an inch away, his black wings rose, and extended from his small body the wind pulled him back, his head prostrated backwards, his eyes met my own and he cawed. The three of us we belonged to each other, with wordless agreement that said She, the Mother. "Have trust in me, you will fly and and you will fall, this time is not yours, However, this here, this is your call. I know it moves slow, and it gives you a shudder, but have trust in me, I am your Mother." I ignored Her words, and descended the road, felt the earth flicker, a disrupted candle- The wind, was to blame for its cruel games. A door opened after many steps, the flights were long, and the wind did not help. I opened my window, gave breath to the tree, and She crept in, She humored me, "One day your shivering bones, will be under those stones, and that bowl will be full with your fleshy Müll. You'll feel the stillness, see the Flicker for you, this cement all ready and new, awaiting your beak, hopes for your red leak." "It'll be me with your breath, and your longing thirst, but first," She gave me her hand, and I saw wrinkles of ages, and so that I might repay, or perhaps even Replay I gave her my hand and said, "Lead the way."
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40
. ***the honeysuckle nectar is gathered with a buzz cactus flowers perform their sweet encore, just because sandals tip toe in short skirts, so busy are the eyes spilling ink are poets, minding minds of the wise love is in the air breezing through limbs and leaves newlyweds sniffing with mouths under dancing trees spring has sprung and love is singing everywhere while country clocks crawl and standing still is Time Square***
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Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 5:33 PM UTC
Arizona Spring