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"ecstatically" poems
sometimes, i like to dance with the devil burning eyes upon me in hypnotic dazzle my toes easily sweep away inhibitions quieting my angelic voice's suspicions as whispered words brush thine ear my entranced ego has no fear endangering as it may be our bodies entanglement appears free with soaring thoughts of ecstasy we ebb and flow in ****** mystery seduced in music playing rhythmically ecstatically, i dance willingly
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Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 12:08 PM UTC
dance with the devil
1532 From all the Jails the Boys and Girls Ecstatically leap— Beloved only Afternoon That Prison doesn’t keep They storm the Earth and stun the Air, A Mob of solid Bliss— Alas—that Frowns should lie in wait For such a Foe as this—
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10.4k
From all the Jails the Boys and Girls
In this new world so connected digitally Online with your smartphone or desktop continuously Every touch or click with your fingers sublimely Connecting messaging chatting seductively Rush of dopamine brain lives ecstatically Bits and bytes that rise and fall emotionally Waiting for physical touch earnestly LDR love seem to be extraordinarily Yet to see LDR grows into LTR eventually
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Dec 29, 2019
Dec 29, 2019 at 7:23 AM UTC
LDR to LTR
O Thou who at Love’s hour ecstatically Unto my lips dost evermore present The body and blood of Love in sacrament; Whom I have neared and felt thy breath to be The inmost incense of his sanctuary; Who without speech hast owned him, and intent Upon his will, thy life with mine hast blent, And murmured o’er the cup, Remember me!— 0 what from thee the grace, for me the prize, And what to Love the glory,—when the whole Of the deep stair thou tread’st to the dim shoal And weary water of the place of sighs, And there dost work deliverance, as thine eyes Draw up my prisoned spirit to thy soul!
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7.2k
Redemption
Foreigners are people somewhere else, Natives are people at home; If the place you’re at Is your habitat, You’re a foreigner, say in Rome. But the scales of Justice balance true, And *** leads into tat, So the man who’s at home When he stays in Rome Is abroad when he’s where you’re at. When we leave the limits of the land in which Our birth certificates sat us, It does not mean Just a change of scene, But also a change of status. The Frenchman with his fetching beard, The Scot with his kilt and sporran, One moment he May a native be, And the next may find him foreign. There’s many a difference quickly found Between the different races, But the only essential Differential Is living different places. Yet such is the pride of prideful man, From Austrians to Australians, That wherever he is, He regards as his, And the natives there, as aliens. Oh, I’ll be friends if you’ll be friends, The foreigner tells the native, And we’ll work together for our common ends Like a preposition and a dative. If our common ends seem mostly mine, Why not, you ignorant foreigner? And the native replies Contrariwise; And hence, my dears, the coroner. So mind your manners when a native, please, And doubly when you visit And between us all A rapport may fall Ecstatically exquisite. One simple thought, if you have it pat, Will eliminate the coroner: You may be a native in your habitat, But to foreigners you’re just a foreigner.
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5.4k
Goody for Our Side and Your Side Too
*The flute catches the music in the air Every note dances ecstatically A playful duet that pleases the heart Silence becomes more gorgeous Listening to the flute is a realization Entwined in the caress of the pristine air The oneness with it, a revelation*
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Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
The Flute
You know what the stories say About me. They call me silly, Foolish, disobedient. They say I should have listened to my Father. Now he was a guy Worth listening to: the one Who built the labyrinth -- the one That caged the bull-headed beast And sent virgins, hopelessly Lost, to their deaths. He made me a pair of wings And when he was finished told me to contemplate my mortality. And not to fly too close To the sun. For the feathers Were joined only by wax and days But the sun was made of molten fire and eternity. How could I listen though? When after so long Penned in the cool, dim labyrinthine Depths of his workshop, I was finally Free. A soft warm shaft of sunlight pierced me through and I was lost. On my ****** flight, I was ecstatically lost, rising madly to the shivering brink of infinity. Imagine me with my great white waxen feathered wings circling (Circling) (Circling) spiraling Higher and higher to a crisis. Oh I melted. Then I fell. I do wish they'd asked me how I'd have Liked to be remembered though: Not the merely foolish bull-headed kid who refused to obey, But the dreamer with wild eyes, The one who once flew too close to the Sun And briefly, (All too briefly) Blazed.
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Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 2:27 PM UTC
Icarus
The sound of my snoring is just as loud as the roars of every great beast roaring ecstatically in a chorus of roars my brother told me he woke up at 3:00 A.M and took a trip to our conjoined bathroom known in the industry as a jack and jill but I am Jacob and he is Jordan he said that I was snoring long, loud and violent thrashing from side to side like a boat on deadliest catch like trees during that tornado wherever that thing was like someone struggling to live and breathe
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Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 2:04 PM UTC
Snoring Problems
Have you watched the vast Sky? Do you allow yourself to do this? Are there any chances in life To make you provide extra time? In the morning, before Sun-rise The Western Sky will be bright With wonderful display of clouds A beautiful look, Sky will have When Sun comes graciously What a wonderful light display! Announcing His nice arrival Clouds will run ecstatically In the evening when Sun sets Like a shy girl's lovely cheeks Eastern Sky will be romantic Giving red carpet to the Moon After hard-work done for that day Sun will go elsewhere to do duty Twenty four hours are His service No rest at all and so truly unique All the stars come during the night To give us joy and peace and hope Their twinkling will be remarkable They only preserve our happiness The Sky is a place of real bliss As rain and light come from there Heat also is by the Sun generated Moon is a boon supplying wonder Today watch the Sky for a change You will be flooded by thoughts A new idea will emerge in mind Surely this will act as a remedy. mvvenkataraman
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May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 1:46 PM UTC
Eye that Great Sky
*Once a beautiful princess with a Zest for life and a love for tasty Zingers morphed into a Zebra butterfly Whenever she was enjoying her tasty Zingers She was always on cloud nine and so blissfully happy and alive So one sweet summer's day she was Zipping along on a Zephyr's breeze Pleasantly enjoying life with a smile When suddenly she came upon a garden, an enchanting garden of Zinnias Beauties, blooming colours of Zeal And then suddenly he flew Zoom, Zoom Zing, Zing faster than a Zenith light A dragonfly, "ahh a god" she thought And she worshipped him, he was her god he was the Zeus of her garden He could go from Zero to sixty in a Zecond She was so ecstatically happy in her garden she had honestly believed she had expired and went to her very own sweet Heaven When actually she was only dreamin' sometimes  she falls asleep unexpectedly Zzzzzzzzzzzzz*
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Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 7:04 PM UTC
Garden of Zeus
The plums tasted sweet to the unlettered desert-tribe girl- but what manners! To chew into each! She was ungainly, low-caste, ill mannered and ***** but the god took the fruit she'd been ******* Why? She'd knew how to love. She might not distinguish splendor from filth but she'd tasted the nectar of passion. Might not know any Veda, but a chariot swept her away- now she frolics in heaven, ecstatically bound to her god. The Lord of Fallen Fools, says Mira, will save anyone who can practice rapture like that- I myself in a previous birth was a cowherding girl at Gokul.
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2.9k
A Cowherding girl
For years, longing long years I mourned my smooth, young honey-hued, freckle-filled summers. My tears, pander-eyed tears Trickled down the furtive, long-sleeved, camouflaged decades. I hoped hopeless hopes That the pallid,white-lashed jig-saw stranger in the mirror should leave. My fears, shadowy fears Multiplied, forming stark splashes across the carefree canvas of my psyche. Resigned, and re-designed The pattern of my life became cheery-faced denial-by-self-tan. And there, just where despair Had me in its mottled, stubborn, white-knuckled, piebald grip The long, long, longed-for thing Occurred – showering my bleached body and soul with golden shards of joy. The white, bright white Which blighted my confidence and leached the tones from my being Is going, going, gone And I am once again becoming who I always so secretly and subcutaneously was. I’m me… I’m free And blissfully, gratefully, ecstatically aware that the final letters of my life’s curse are… ... "I GO" Vitiligo © October 2011 Vitiligo Protocol
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Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 2:11 PM UTC
Vitiligo
I confessed my adoration declaring my undying affection along with my true intentions You declined most gracefully (clear and concise) Narrating you do not share the same sentiments, (it was a forgone conclusion) Letting me down eventually yet elevating my spirits every time you smile;   If you reciprocated even a decimal point of devotion or a fraction of affinity I hold for you Metaphorically speaking it would acquire the vast space that now occupy all the stars in the known cosmos For my affection towards you ran across time through galaxies extending throughout the infinite interstellar, finally resonating to the heavens unsettling angels and almighty god   In space time is redundant; direction hold no relevance and gravity is absent Similar to the romantic intentions you have for me – literally none existent You will always occupy that pedestal you once accused me I have erroneously placed you on I will always hold the candle for you, step off a bridge if you asked me to I would rather deserve medals and not have them; than to have medals and not deserve them Very much like you – case and point Maybe you are like the sunset I only have the privilege of admiring its magnificence from a far But never to retain it for myself I have to let go once the dusk disappear giving way to the stars But I like to still envision; let my imagination run rampant; then contemplate in accordance to the   “Many Worlds Theory” that somewhere in the unknown multiverse, vibrating in a different frequency, we co-exist ecstatically ; now living & sharing an apartment in New York city; enjoying Chinese takeaway drinking cheap wine while listening to all your favourite songs from the nineties.  (Specially the Goo Goo Dolls, The Verve and Matchbox Twenty)
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Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 4:20 PM UTC
The worst ballad ever written
I confessed my adoration declaring my undying affection along with my true intentions You declined most gracefully (clear and concise) Narrating you do not share the same sentiments, (it was a forgone conclusion) Letting me down eventually yet elevating my spirits every time you smile;   If you reciprocated even a decimal point of devotion or a fraction of affinity I hold for you Metaphorically speaking it would acquire the vast space that now occupy all the stars in the known cosmos For my affection towards you ran across time through galaxies extending throughout the infinite interstellar, finally resonating to the heavens unsettling angels and almighty god   In space time is redundant; direction hold no relevance and gravity is absent Similar to the romantic intentions you have for me – literally none existent You will always occupy that pedestal you once accused me I have erroneously placed you on I will always hold the candle for you, step off a bridge if you asked me to I would rather deserve medals and not have them; than to have medals and not deserve them Very much like you – case and point Maybe you are like the sunset I only have the privilege of admiring its magnificence from a far But never to retain it for myself I have to let go once the dusk disappear giving way to the stars But I like to still envision; let my imagination run rampant; then contemplate in accordance to the   “Many Worlds Theory” that somewhere in the unknown multiverse, vibrating in a different frequency, we co-exist ecstatically ; now living & sharing an apartment in New York city; enjoying Chinese takeaway drinking cheap wine while listening to all your favourite songs from the nineties.  (Specially the Goo Goo Dolls, The Verve and Matchbox Twenty)
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Beyond the dense woods of scented sandal trees, where pairs of wood ducks ecstatically mate, squeaking, and at  the end of  ********** leisurely preen and groom, near the pond, so tranquil, its water, the clear  hue of ultramarine, lies a stone seat                          where my true love, used to sit, eyeing the path thinking about my arrival. Now, the pale sun reluctantly sets, like a hopeless lover with broken heart, returns. The ducks had flown back, long before. Alone, I sit here not knowing why!
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Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 1:46 PM UTC
Our rendezvous is desolate
- You were the inspiration behind everything I would desire like Embers, I was once discovered by your fire In my darkest hours you'd always give me reason, like wildfires in unexpected seasons Every part of me learned to radiate, ecstatically exposed to all your burning states Then came the day I turned into dust, and like a volcano you annihilated my trust I was the property of a ****** arsonist, and starting fires is how his wickedness vents It's hard to fathom that this started with little ignition, because it grew so fast into a vicious obsession I asked you to stop smoking that day and it wasn't because I was simply sick of it, I just hated the fact that I saw myself in your half dead-cigarette -
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Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 8:07 PM UTC
Perfect Match
I love you to the moon and back, yet on earth, I hate you back and forth. I am happy with a suppressed sense of agony. So ecstatically vibrant, yet miserably tormented. I live day to day, walking and “maturing”, yet move no further than beyond the grave of a past, long dead and gone. I’m awake, don’t you see? When I wake, I open my eyes in a helpless sleep. Outside my tiny being, I see nothing but me. I call myself a mother, or a father, but never gave birth to a daughter. We call ourselves a “family”, but exist so disconnected — wavering and dislodged, apart and separated. Smiling resentfully, painfully, excruciatingly. All for the cameras of course. I am respectful — to be respected! I shower in lies, and cover you too, so I need not see any offensive residue. I am a strong person, cowering and contracted to the slightest sight of error. No vulnerability. I’m brave, don’t you see? A plastic rock, standing impervious to the sea. I love you, I love you, I love you. But I don’t see you, nor hear you, don’t know you. I understand you, of course, “I understand everything!!!!” But I don’t see you, nor hear you, don’t know you. I know you, I know you, I know you. Yet I don’t see you, nor hear you, don’t know you. You’re crazy, poor child! Why can’t you lie like we do!? Why can’t you NOT feel like we do!? Why can’t you NOT see as we do!? Why can’t you just “forgive” and “accept”? Take it all, all our objects in their entirety and forget the emptiness of your soul. Sacrifice yourself, for you need not forget, we gave it ALL. Don’t you know yet? This world is OURS to own. A “truth” to be known. Your perception; a mere fallacy to be shown. Don’t you know yet? Everyone agrees. We stand before an army of validation, against your small speck of reality. All memory, all harmony, all said and done -- buried beneath. We are the bringers of truth, the proclaimers of wisdom and sound guidance. And you, our poor child, just a little voice to be silenced. A lost soul, drifting outside the “right” path. Reach for our direction. You’ll travel upon a dusty, well-trodden track, and with feet now imprinted with scars. Rest assured though, for we travelled there too; feet too ***** to bear and too numb to care. Take our confident hands, our dearest child. We’ll lead you through a clear path with tainted feet. You’ll fall and we’ll rise in disbelief. You’ll scream and it’ll only echo our fears.
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Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 8:40 PM UTC
Paradox Living: The Poem That's Not About You...
I love you to the moon and back, yet on earth, I hate you back and forth. I am happy with a suppressed sense of agony. So ecstatically vibrant, yet miserably tormented. I live day to day, walking and “maturing”, yet move no further than beyond the grave of a past, long dead and gone. I’m awake, don’t you see? When I wake, I open my eyes in a helpless sleep. Outside my tiny being, I see nothing but me. I call myself a mother, or a father, but never gave birth to a daughter. We call ourselves a “family”, but exist so disconnected — wavering and dislodged, apart and separated. Smiling resentfully, painfully, excruciatingly. All for the cameras of course. I am respectful — to be respected! I shower in lies, and cover you too, so I need not see any offensive residue. I am a strong person, cowering and contracted to the slightest sight of error. No vulnerability. I’m brave, don’t you see? A plastic rock, standing impervious to the sea. I love you, I love you, I love you. But I don’t see you, nor hear you, don’t know you. I understand you, of course, “I understand everything!!!!” But I don’t see you, nor hear you, don’t know you. I know you, I know you, I know you. Yet I don’t see you, nor hear you, don’t know you. You’re crazy, poor child! Why can’t you lie like we do!? Why can’t you NOT feel like we do!? Why can’t you NOT see as we do!? Why can’t you just “forgive” and “accept”? Take it all, all our objects in their entirety and forget the emptiness of your soul. Sacrifice yourself, for you need not forget, we gave it ALL. Don’t you know yet? This world is OURS to own. A “truth” to be known. Your perception; a mere fallacy to be shown. Don’t you know yet? Everyone agrees. We stand before an army of validation, against your small speck of reality. All memory, all harmony, all said and done -- buried beneath. We are the bringers of truth, the proclaimers of wisdom and sound guidance. And you, our poor child, just a little voice to be silenced. A lost soul, drifting outside the “right” path. Reach for our direction. You’ll travel upon a dusty, well-trodden track, and with feet now imprinted with scars. Rest assured though, for we travelled there too; feet too ***** to bear and too numb to care. Take our confident hands, our dearest child. We’ll lead you through a clear path with tainted feet. You’ll fall and we’ll rise in disbelief. You’ll scream and it’ll only echo our fears.
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It's after midnight now I've come to howl the words my muse keeps in her bag She's a blackhearted ***** with gnarly teeth and razor thin lips to bare She has kerosene breath and her fingers are as cold as death She's long desired to catch me in bed But I would drown in the creek before I would be tongue bound and give in to such an ugly witch She plys me with liquor He tongue is word flickered She dances around and around I stand but falter , and tumble on over And she's quicker than a cat on a moth She's licking my neck and I shudder from cold z' over She lays across my chest and declares "I'll put you to test , taking all of your best" Then she slides her hands under my shirt Then cackling with glee she strips down my clothes to my "T's" So excited she trembles ecstatically She raises her dress and sits down upon me She screams  in such delight like two bobcats fighting at night And I lay helpless as I stare She moans , then groans then short tempered yells and many an "almost"  and "Oh Oh Oh's" Then turns soft as a quail Her fingers now all over warm Replacing the cackles and bows a beautiful voice that glows She whimpers like a puppy scorned She's now in the buff And little concerned In the calm after the storm her true beauty really shows
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Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 11:19 PM UTC
After Midnight Now
The wind blows in a restive frenzy, But knows not which way to go. Dead leaves caper ecstatically In the hope of reanimation. The lascivious earth wears petrichor; Craving for his touch. Her paramour with a tumultuous roar, Seems invincible in his virility. The grim atmosphere lights intermittently As the sparks of their passionate paroxysm burst through. The ******** tryst leaves him exhausted. Satiating her voracity was an arduous feat. What once seemed invincible now floats decrepit; Oblivious to the agents of his decay.
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Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 7:06 AM UTC
Tryst
Transcendentally existential in-extremis extremity nuance.  Vicinity victual vigilante villain.  Propinquity habitation harbinger harangued.  Clairaudience clairvoyance agilely dexterous acuity, tactile coordination.  Feral phrenic frenzied ****  Carousel ceaselessly ceremony chaos character charisma.  29th Psalm some holy spirit, the angel was a vision of resplendent beauty as it hovered in mid air above the knoll.  Apex axis crux and citadel pinnacle's peak.  And yet I would distance traveled time spent like to mitigate this of in to you.  What then is the essence of metaphysical mystique.  I say lets ethereally sublime be mesmerically enrapturing.  Ecstatically euphoric and climactically ********  Let your vicarious recalcitrance revel in the prolific profuseness of my profundity as we lavish in our wanton abandon.  Though paw flaw laws are to claws aimed craw, horsefeathers are more proficient and surreal on the salaciously seductive.
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Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 1:50 AM UTC
Febrile Fertility's Fecundity
Within this solitude, I have grown in ways I never knew possible. I have delved deeper into the caverns of each chamber of this sacred abode we call the Heart, and discovered there is no end.. It is a perpetually incessant journey. I continue to swim, propelled through this bloodstream, ~ this heart’s dream.. my tears becoming one with the ocean within the vessel that carries me forth. Guided by a gentle hand, the inward immersion continues.. It is dark.. warm.. it envelopes me. I cannot see .. rather I feel, moving by the sight of faith. There is safety in this sanctuary, the guiding hand a cord, the darkness a soothing, protective womb. I inhale deeply – as I hear the voice whisper: everything is allegory       pain is a sculptor (it keeps us upright)          love is a painter (his brush divinely guided)             lust is a cello… (but what good is an instrument without a song to sing?) and I am ecstatically transported to Tagore: “*I have spent my days stringing and unstringing my instrument while the song I came to sing remains unsung*.” I exhale cathartically – Releasing.. It seems an eternity between the inhale ~ and the exhale.. a lifetime between each breath.
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Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 11:24 PM UTC
Solitude
Loosen the noose,  I'm ready to live Unlock these chains I once begged you for Collapse the walls I've had you build Release the animal, it's tired of hiding I'm ready to run Headlong into the shadows Away from the other one I'll devour all I've withheld from My crumbling spirit has decayed Replaced by something raw A ripened, dripping rage And blood I will draw Ready to show this true nature of mine The dominant monster A shiver up every spine A nightmare unfostered Beneath my heel you'll find The weakest imposters A vision of blackest beauty I am everlasting insanity Every demand followed Every heart hollowed Ecstatically I'll make you crawl I'll pull you down You'll heed my call I'll watch you drown Well beyond the depths And through our cores I'll go to hell Unlock all doors Gather an army Of oaths unsworn My will unleashed A chaotic force
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Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 6:29 PM UTC
PreDominantly Free
My heart is slipping up my throat and my eyes are half open my stomach is ecstatically quivering I'm high off a smile and my toes are tipped Blissed-out
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Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 2:52 PM UTC
Tweaking Off Happy
drops falling steadily upon a misty world far more than fifty shades of green dazzle your senses make you almost hear trees bushes flowers drinking sustenance ecstatically dancing in the rain
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May 8, 2019
May 8, 2019 at 10:40 AM UTC
rain's beauty
Moments of bliss in the pain and truth in the fables, All I need is some honesty honestly, “Stormy seas make the most skilled sailors..”, or so her tattoo reads so sinful it feels Godly, she says she only likes black men, and they say “Once you go black you never go back.”, but I’m white and when she came she came with me, and since she arrived she hasn’t left, sometimes, truth really is stranger than fiction, quit drugs got clean, so now she is my only addition, on a rooftop in a cool spot sipping champagne, in the pool got a true shot at some real fame, feeling like the hero and the villian, half Joker have Bruce Wayne, the truth is I feel like a mix of all the Bruces, Bruce Jenner Bruce Banner Bruce Lee, Bruce Willis all in it no limits or gimmicks, Born in the USA raised on Backstreets of Philly, an American Dreamer living The Dream, Born To Run call me Bruce Springsteen, found the Fountain of Youth this girl with this tattoo’s the proof, so now I bath in the rainbows of this spring, life so exciting sometimes I just want to scream, like I do right now as we dance ecstatically, unconditionally above the world on this rooftop under this star light, which makes sense since she is a dancer by trade, we dance and sweat and let out everything that’s inside, we spread our arms we extend our tongue, we seize the moment this moment of life, because we know everything goes in an instant, life passes by in the blink of an eye, but without the bitter the sweet ain’t as sweet, trying to wake up from this dream Vanilla Sky, and sure these waters are rough, but hey at least we’re enjoying the ride, as we find moments of bliss in the pain and truth in the fables, All I need is some honesty honestly, “Stormy seas make the most skilled sailors..”, or so her tattoo reads so sinful it feels Godly… ∆ LaLux ∆ Free Book: https://www.scribd.com/document/388173677/The-Holy-Trilogy-Volume-2-Mandalas
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Jan 16, 2019
Jan 16, 2019 at 5:16 AM UTC
Stormy Seas Make The Most Skilled Sailors
Moments of bliss in the pain and truth in the fables, All I need is some honesty honestly, “Stormy seas make the most skilled sailors..”, or so her tattoo reads so sinful it feels Godly, she says she only likes black men, and they say “Once you go black you never go back.”, but I’m white and when she came she came with me, and since she arrived she hasn’t left, sometimes, truth really is stranger than fiction, quit drugs got clean, so now she is my only addition, on a rooftop in a cool spot sipping champagne, in the pool got a true shot at some real fame, feeling like the hero and the villian, half Joker have Bruce Wayne, the truth is I feel like a mix of all the Bruces, Bruce Jenner Bruce Banner Bruce Lee, Bruce Willis all in it no limits or gimmicks, Born in the USA raised on Backstreets of Philly, an American Dreamer living The Dream, Born To Run call me Bruce Springsteen, found the Fountain of Youth this girl with this tattoo’s the proof, so now I bath in the rainbows of this spring, life so exciting sometimes I just want to scream, like I do right now as we dance ecstatically, unconditionally above the world on this rooftop under this star light, which makes sense since she is a dancer by trade, we dance and sweat and let out everything that’s inside, we spread our arms we extend our tongue, we seize the moment this moment of life, because we know everything goes in an instant, life passes by in the blink of an eye, but without the bitter the sweet ain’t as sweet, trying to wake up from this dream Vanilla Sky, and sure these waters are rough, but hey at least we’re enjoying the ride, as we find moments of bliss in the pain and truth in the fables, All I need is some honesty honestly, “Stormy seas make the most skilled sailors..”, or so her tattoo reads so sinful it feels Godly… ∆ LaLux ∆ Free Book: https://www.scribd.com/document/388173677/The-Holy-Trilogy-Volume-2-Mandalas
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43
What's the point? Enjoy the ride? Smoke a joint. Now go and hide Wait it out You're just paranoid Let out a shout Just to fill the void Feelings of emptiness It's all in your head? Inhumane levels of stress Just go to bed Nighttime rolls swiftly back again like an old familiar sin haunting the days end Motivation creeps in, empty shoes ask where ya been to my bare footed skin Worn down socks lay on the floor halfway out the door as if they couldn't take anymore Life"s a bore if you know what"s in store, but if no one"s keeping score, then what"s it all for? No matter how many times I made her ecstatically moan No matter how many shots I made while in the zone No matter how many things I"ve learned then shown Just please always let the battle be forever known That in the end we will all transcend again...alone
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Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 4:21 AM UTC
Life...less