Waking in darkness to brainstorming moments
Warm under covers on this freezing morn,
Recalling the instants of yesterday’s sequences,
How they developed and how they were born……

“Moving with grace in a form fitting garment,
Curves in the shadow light tauntingly near,
Beautiful lines in a moment of weakness
Titillate senses erotically clear.”

“Watching the mouth of the bigoted warbler,
Watching him spout his idolatry spiels,
Rhetoric of mind bending, **** licking garbage
Image of self is the place that he kneels.”

“Urgency now with insurances deadline
Making provision for payments now due,
Juggle the baksheesh for paying the piper
Or the cruelty of bankers will cauterise you!”

“Laughter arouses the happiest moments
Merriment opens the faces so well,
Emotively gracious the giving of laughter
Contagiously, wonderfully ringing the bell.”

"Uncomfortably caught in the midst of an untruth
Unconscionably really, can’t call it a lie,
Got caught in momentum of tale in the telling
Upsetting me now to the point where I cry.”

"Can’t recall why, but I know there’s a matter,
Ripping my britches to try to recall….
Something importantly, now to be dealt with
Frustratingly lost in the fog of it all.”

"Harmonies rise like a mist in the temple
Delicate cadences rise and they fall,
I wonder why God allows this unbeliever
To sing with the Angels in his Holy hall?”

“Running my fingertips over her curvature
Feeling the ***** line plummet to fall
Knowing the thrill of elicit collusion
Anticipate promise of wanting it all.”

Sudden alarm in the midst of a waking
Urgency calls at the dawn of the day,
Heaving my soul into frost waiting fingers
Leaving my dreams in the warmth where they lay.

Marshalg
“Pukehana Paradise”
Auckland NZ.
22 June 2013

The womb in my view is the most emotively eloquent aspect of a woman.
I believe the womb is the source of unlocking true love.

For when a woman gifts her womb to a man, it is then that she learns to love unconditionally.
Before this ability is unlocked, she will never know.

Personally, I have wholeheartedly devoted my womb to one man on two occasions.
This is the man I plan to marry.
This is the man I released my soul unto.

This.

Is the man.

During the first occasion is when I learned what true love felt like, from within my soul.
There was no other person on this earth to which I had devoted my entirety to.
I felt the flow of my energy intertwine with his as together we combined to form the ultimate gift of life.
There was something incredibly compelling when our two souls became one, forever coupled.

The second time I relinquished my womb it did not go as planned.
There was still true love involved, however this time I believe a tragedy was required in order for emotions to flow freely between two souls.
There was a blockage between the two, built from the pain of time and the ease that distance can entail.
However, together, two were able to accept this blockage and work on letting love flow, for love is what heals pain in my view.

More time passed
Along with this time came strength, autonomy, and independence
All still within the unity that was.

The bond was unbreakable.

Was.

lost beyond thoughts of consequence,
bouncing taxis blur the streets of my wanderings,
crowds released from roadside governance
and the stillness gauges frantic adverts splayed.
readiness surges toward academe
in the guile of non-influence;
inspiration settles into future springs
while the flutist pleas for calm;
and systems drag emotively to better corners.
friendships diverge with wiser makings worn.
in living returns the united self.
aside turgid dregs of failure’s learned balm
the written strength of former minds
bead their voices into soulful vestibules
and I crouch gayly in the tent of my desire
viewing unmet worlds swept behind,
saving other time-intended growth
for lissome moments drawing on.

The unveiling of a grey liquid dawn
Sleepily I welcomed with a cheerful yawn
The eyes slowly opened to forms unfolding
Hopes soaring once more on fluttered wing!
I’m alive, a day older though, with all my sense
Exist at this moment and emotively dense
A day stretching out its red carpet
Saying, ‘come running and don’t wait’!
It may not be shaped the way I want
With pitfalls enough to draw my grunt
Yet, like all birth, the most precious gift
It has held back death, giving life a lift!

The newly married couple, Mr. Butter Masala and Mrs. Maggie Butter Masala reached their farmhouse at Kasauli Hills for summer vacation.

Standing on the balcony of their room, Mrs. Maggie asked Mr. Butter, "Would you like to join me in seeing the sunset point today?

"Sure, I also wanted to introduce you to two friends tonight!" Mr. Butter replied.

"That's a nice plan," Mrs. Maggie said.

"Would you like a cup of ginger tea?" asked Mr. Butter.

"You're the world's best tea maker; I would love to have it," said Mrs. Maggie. "But would you like to have tea cake along with it?"

Mr. Butter and Mrs. Maggie had a wonderful time at Kasauli Hills Station, which had stunning scenery and delicious food. When they got ready for their evening plans to watch the beautiful sunset and meet their friends, they walked down the hill station with their hands a little far away from each other, lost in thought about whether they wanted to hold hands.

As they enjoyed the sweet cold air while walking down and the peaceful scenery around, they were silent but present with each other.

"Sweetly, Mr. Butter said, 'You look beautiful in this orange dress.'"
"You look dapper in your blue suit, too!" replied Mrs. Maggie shyly. "

Both Mr. Butter and Mrs. Maggie reached the sunset point and smiled while watching the sun gracefully settling down, leaving beautiful tints of colors in the sky. They looked shy and wanted to talk but didn't speak that much.

When Mrs. Maggie asked Mr. Butter anything, he answered and looked at Mrs. Maggie's face, but shy Mrs. Maggie looked away. If Mr. Butter had asked anything of Mrs. Maggie, she replied and looked away with a smile but was present with him. So, somehow, they only talked a little.
Amidst the simple conversation between Mr. Butter and Mrs. Maggie, nature looked serene with excellent mountain scenery and greenery. The couples walked to a place to dine with their friends.

Mr. Hakka and Mrs. Hakka welcomed Mr. Butter and Mrs. Maggie. They greeted each other enthusiastically. Mr. Hakka and Mr. Butter were old friends and laughed at many stories.

As they planned to order some drinks, Mrs. Maggie generously offered them the peanut chaat she had prepared.

"What would you like to have? Any favorites in the drink?" asked Mr. Hakka.

"I am happy with the lemon water!" Mrs. Maggie replied contentedly.

"Are you also going to drink?" asked Mrs. Maggie curiously, looking at Mr. Butter.

"Will you start to faint if you drink too much?" asked the tensed Mrs. Maggie.

While Mr. Hakka made fun of Mr. Butter, Mr. Butter shyly assured Mrs. Maggie that she could take care of him if he found it difficult to stand.

"Yes, but we should protect each other. Please don't drink so much that you lose your senses!" said Mrs. Maggie (sounding concerned).

"I won't," assured Mr. Butter.
After a beautiful dinner get-together, the couples prepared to leave for their stay station.

This time, Mr. Butter extended his hand towards Mrs. Maggie to go back to their hill station. Mrs. Maggie felt happy, and they looked a little hesitant and shy, but they looked pleased. They thought they would talk to each other, but they didn't speak much.

That night, when they strolled in their garden poach area, nature looked warmly pleased by them, and stars shone on them. Mr. Butter turned to Mrs. Maggie to initiate a heartfelt conversation and began with an intriguing question. He lovingly asked if she would care for him throughout his life and be there for him through all the ups and downs. Mrs. Maggie's eyes twinkled when she started answering Mr. Butter. She lovingly replied to him, saying, 'I'm always just a hand away from you. You may want to feel my presence, then always hold your hand towards your chest and feel my presence in the pure silence of your heart. The only thing that I worry about is that nothing should ever happen to you. Would you always take care of yourself? Will you please do that for me?

Mrs. Maggie's words moved Mr. Butter so much that he hugged her in response.
The stars already shining on them started gazing at the moon, which was about to appear clear amidst the clouds. When the moon caught the star's gaze, he lovingly smiled at the couples and made a wish to the stars that were twinkling in the distance.

The serene nature and harmonious couples exuded a tranquil and blissful aura of togetherness.
In this way, the two unique couples, Ms. Maggie and Mr. Butter, remained calm and patient while listening to each other's daily worries and casual conversations, feeling satisfied and content in silence.
On a slightly sweet note, even though they didn't converse much, they were always present with each other throughout their journey!

©shivpoetesspriya

☹ ☹ ☹ ☹ ☹ ☹ ☹ ☹ ☹ ☹ ☹ ☹ ☹
✔ There's a secret videotape of C.F.R.'s monkey Tom Clancy beggin'
✔ in vain to the Control Group that vaccinates a senile Nancy Reagan
✔ for his life to be spared as before God would whine an antsy pagan
✔Le Nègre Prix de Triomphe goes to Heidi Klum's seal-hung lancer
✔whose skin's a mucopussy mess from discoid lupus not lung cancer
✔as his soul was skinned nights dodging **** as a black-dung dancer
✔trapping weasels while boiling weevils ain't the Ivory Coast answer
☹Tex & Rita (to Memorex): Die you schizogenetic offering by dawn
☹in the dirt-bag opting of a love stymied beneath an undeterred lawn
☹in starving memory to Dutch: a ray-gun-loving Reagan called Ron,
☹that war-dodging acquaintance of stage-dead mummer **** Shawn
☹whose crap-out was viewed by attending audience as a planned con
☹but alas the gray ******* was, medico-legally, dead and gone
☹To negrita ****** & Albanian trulls & stenographers he's just John
✔The ease in which legs are compressed & unfolded at the cat house
✔ makes me hearken for unstuck Tuesdays at ye olde Erin cork house
✔ where fish are skinned like brave men tried in a federal court house
✔ while uncracked minds get cracked up at a ******-town crack house
✔ 'Cause of whitey I'm kidney-listed 7 million _sans_ country club clout
✔ I'm bony, **** & looking for a compatible liver-donor to break out
✔ of this low-immunity strata before there is a liver-disease outbreak
✔ as the runny dog-**** of ******* dogs ******* near me starts to cake
☹ so as to out-stink a South Korean who's really a North Korean fake
☹ The federal government is eugenical: to it we must own up sheeple,
☹ thus maturing emotively into a sovereign, logical, grown-up people
☹ for it stands that the melding of nanny state & citizenry is umbilical
☹ & in confliction with by-gone eras as our illogic's queerly quizzical
☹ because it pits humanoid knowledge against the quasi-metaphysical
☹ that foments hatefulness toward each appointed government radical
☹ who queerly degenerates into deviances paraphrenical and fanatical
☹ whereas whip-lash's suit-seeking, soft-tissue damage that's cervical
✔ requiring an obligatorily-worn orthopedic brace for 2 years farcical
✔ to render pro-rated, per capita lifetime-loss-of-earnings stats logical
✔ for in America breaking a sweat to earn bread has become heretical
✔ as ditzes respire hot air into bean-counting jobs designated clerical,
✔ Occidental monasticism's monasterial intrigue remains monastical
✔ overseas whereat cartographically-globular frontiers chart spherical
☹ Shrill moans of belabored Mexicalis triggers a Marxian mechanism
☹ that deflects absent divers toward proto-Brazilian-styled lesbianism
☹ which remains less evil than Theodore & Franklin D. Rooseveltism
✔ times 13 million ******* blackening white love for nig criminalism
☹ in camps of cramped campers craving crammed communitarianism
☹ Let us bathe in the spittle of homosexuals before we roll over to die
☹ as deviance's eternal, trumping the realm of  The Catcher in the Rye
☹ 'cause my ***** afro reflects nig force to punish whites before I die
☹ as a lard-***, ghetto-happy 'fro bro who digested the E.B.T. food lie
✔ while the Siamese outed glorious Teresa Teng as a Kuomintang spy
✔ No ****** wins awards for the glory of being an award-winning ***
✔ as no strip-mining strip miner burns U.M.W. cards for heaps o' ****
✔ while bagmen trade for what's behind door 2 for what's in their bag
✔ because kids trained in knife-attack'll stab in a childish game of tag
✔ to snub ****** daylight saving time with its pain-in-the-*** time-lag
✔ that denies maiden beauties their beauty sleep long before they hag
✔ & battery-operated boyfriends to prisoners gagged by jailhouse gag
✔ or mothers in the last raggedy stages of monthly ragging on the rag
☹ Back against the wall & indebted to the last lucky 7 vinegar strokes
☹ see no point to cajole unlaid, lay-about chicks for the routine coax
☹ No Christian shall deny an unborn baby's supreme court right to die
☹ 'cause the German zeppelin LZ 129 Hindenburg was too light to fly
✔ There's a secret videotape of C.F.R.'s monkey Tom Clancy beggin'
✔ in vain to the Control Group that vaccinates a senile Nancy Reagan
✔ for his life to be spared as before God would whine an antsy pagan
☹ “I'll tolerate no remark **** Lana Kramer!” Farted the proctologist,
☹ after Marlon Brando snuffed Odnarb Nolram, a Tahitian acarologist
*☹ who toyed in the nefarious world of gynecology like a gynecologist