"encircling" poems
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
After days of long studies comes the
days of rest. My violet dreams were
slumber-soft filled with lucent lilies
of curling flames born of ever colour
known and unknown. And I stood
in awe of them as my fears fall back
and cower in the shades of my mind.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
I muse at how quickly my body
relaxed. Due to my marjoram'd
pillows and sheets of pure silk
and eiderdown? Or due to the
sips of the lavender tea in my in
my teacup decorated with a
butterfly motif?
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
I remember the sips in fours as
I blew the steam from my cup;
The first sip balmed my lips.
The second soothed my throat.
The third lulled my thoughts.
The fourth stilled my soul.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Though the tea, the pillow and
sheets were had a hand in my nightly
rest, the real answer is on my brow -
for it was when the night's cool air
blew, and where you placed your
sweet Morphean kiss.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
With a smile, I wake.
Sat on my golden summer throne
located in my marble gazebo; a
jewel in my private garden. With
thin caryatid pillars, draped in
fine doric chitons encircling me.
Their sculpted limbs hold up the
frieze carved with acanthus
that has a stained glass top of
peacocks and stargazers.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
The sheer curtains billow when
the eastern winds blow. By me, a
gold side table with a mirrored top
supported by three Greek key legs.
A pewter quill pen with a steel nib
and violet feather rests by its clay
inkpot; both beside a silver sinuous
nouveau vase and a small stack of
poetry books of black leather and
gilt.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 7:48 AM UTC
*Blue is the boulder overlooking the bay
Loosely pocked by weather-worn stains
Unwavering guardian of all that lay
Enigmatic yet silently screaming its pains
Blue is the reflection dancing playfully
Laid generously by the twilight moon
Upon the vast canvas of the darkened sea
Elated ripples readily accepting such a boon
Blue is the halo encircling the moon
Lavish circlet gifted by the sun
Unnoticed by eyes that slumbered too soon
Evading the sands of time that run
Blue is the silhouette of a lone sailboat
Lurching and bobbing by will of the waves
Unknowingly catching the zephyrs that float
Eluding the fingers from watery graves
Blue is the man; perched upon the boulder
Lapping up the stars mirrored upon the sea
Usurped heart of his had never sung drearier
Ensnared by woeful wonderment...*
that man is me...
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 10:28 AM UTC
They say the sea is cold, but the sea contains
the hottest blood of all, and the wildest, the most urgent.
All the whales in the wider deeps, hot are they, as they urge
on and on, and dive beneath the icebergs.
The right whales, the sperm-whales, the hammer-heads, the killers
there they blow, there they blow, hot wild white breath out of
the sea!
And they rock, and they rock, through the sensual ageless ages
on the depths of the seven seas,
and through the salt they reel with drunk delight
and in the tropics tremble they with love
and roll with massive, strong desire, like gods.
Then the great bull lies up against his bride
in the blue deep bed of the sea,
as mountain pressing on mountain, in the zest of life:
and out of the inward roaring of the inner red ocean of whale-blood
the long tip reaches strong, intense, like the maelstrom-tip, and
comes to rest
in the clasp and the soft, wild clutch of a she-whale's
fathomless body.
And over the bridge of the whale's strong phallus, linking the
wonder of whales
the burning archangels under the sea keep passing, back and
forth,
keep passing, archangels of bliss
from him to her, from her to him, great Cherubim
that wait on whales in mid-ocean, suspended in the waves of the
sea
great heaven of whales in the waters, old hierarchies.
And enormous mother whales lie dreaming suckling their whale-
tender young
and dreaming with strange whale eyes wide open in the waters of
the beginning and the end.
And bull-whales gather their women and whale-calves in a ring
when danger threatens, on the surface of the ceaseless flood
and range themselves like great fierce Seraphim facing the threat
encircling their huddled monsters of love.
And all this happens in the sea, in the salt
where God is also love, but without words:
and Aphrodite is the wife of whales
most happy, happy she!
and Venus among the fishes skips and is a she-dolphin
she is the gay, delighted porpoise sporting with love and the sea
she is the female tunny-fish, round and happy among the males
and dense with happy blood, dark rainbow bliss in the sea.
8.9k
Shouting for longevity,
Slamming at the counterers…
- upon your dignified respite!
Would-be detractors without brevity,
Before the wine-dark Sea at night…
A pleading to philosophy of commonly renowned,
Beating sand and posturing, uncouth before a crown;
“Priam please!”
Sun and Moon,
two sons shall plead,
nay, -beg in tandem with the man;
“He serves the seas, trust him please, our father; this priest of Trojan-land!”
Laocoon
“Fear the Greeks, of mind I speak, approval by a van-i-ty; it surely is a death you seek!
An asp this horse, gift no more and tragedy in due remorse,
I beg of you my call to heed, wooden-burnt this crispy steed,
…alight in flame, glorified name; Poseidon shall endorse!”
Priests of Apollo
“Ridiculous! Worship we must, now bring it to the City thus!”
Laocoon
“The actions of accursed Kore,
Need I remind you all Paris caused this war?
For he mocked this god, the abyss it knows, with terror comes a deadly tide,
**** that fool and his fiddling pride!*
Burn this beast we must with haste for Greeks they have a certain taste,
Their acts meant always to confound, wily, since they were unbound.
What harm may do, to rest at shore? Consult the stars of yester-yore.
Assign no chore, one heaven’s night, plus a day, to sit upon our princely shore?”
Setting
(read/spoken at the fastest pace the reader can go)
A horrid hiss above the wave as two doth slither from out the cave…
The creatures from the darkest days, ancient spectacle for the knaves, bear witness to the punishment, commanded by a great trident, hearing screams of bannermen, for King and council a shocking twist, serpents ****** from out the mists, encircling priest and his kin, the howling they had done no sin, never be forgot-ten, as Typhon cried out merrily, serpents and the tragic sea; swallowed up all the three.
Priam
“Farewell dear Laocoon and two sons with thee!” *
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 4:13 PM UTC
-Until We Meet Again-
Pele has lost one of her lovers.
I miss the goddess in all her majesty; Her deep blue oceans, sweet sandy beaches, Her dark black hair billowing down like the lava from the peaks of Her highest volcanoes.
Her seven sacred pools, each one cascading gracefully into the next, all finally spilling into her magnificent sea.
Her gorgeous body will forever entice my mind, with hair dark and beautiful, inhaling the scent of fresh pineapple and coconut, a hibiscus flower pinning back strands of hair behind her ear.
Her eyes, they were just as deep and amazing as the sea, something with which they were so familiar.
With lips red and lined with Hawaiian love songs sung just for you, tasting as fresh and young as the ocean itself.
Her body was adorned with fresh tropical flower leis and Kukui beads falling gracefully over ancient Hawaiian dress; all made from the same grass and leaves coming from the islands many trees.
All encircling those perfect hips, born to Hula and sway to any island rhythm, be it the slow and steady rattle of the Uli Uli, or the fast and powerful beat of the Pahu drum.
Finally pushed over the edge by the sight of her long tan legs, not shy to the suns warmth and fiery grasp, ending in bare feet more familiar to the islands then we’ll ever be.
I miss her and all her islands.
Oh, how I miss the island paradise Hawaii.
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 4:26 PM UTC
May these cold waves be bygones,
May the crops be ripened & harvested,
May your family be full of health.
Happy Lohri to North Indians,
Happy Pongal to South Indians,
Happy Makar Sankranti to all.
Come let us all sit encircling the bonfire,
Come let us all pray by offering peanuts,
Come let us all be blessed with sunlight.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 10:33 PM UTC
They enter the café just as some sappy pop song is playing
They order then immediately hug
Embrace
Swaying to one side, together, like the wind
Encircling the leaning tower of Pisa
Then teetering to the other solstice
Foot to foot, smile to smile, hand round skirted waist
Forearm resting on his tall blazered shoulders
This is forgivable in the young
Those teeny-boppers with defiant hair-cuts and posters
However, he has peppered hair
She, though voluptuous and tanned,
Must be in her 30s.
“Affair.”
My cynical devil snickers, between sips
But I sit mesmerized, and for the first time ever
Envious.
The chairs and the tables somehow seem more distant
The song now sounds as if it’s funneled through some crackling phonograph
The very light disentangles itself from stones
It’s as if a sky has opened up in my chest
Flying high overhead, one lone raven,
Its slow shadow
Gliding across my heart
Oh, how I miss you
5 states away
I see your smile on magazine covers
I vaguely sniff your scent on passing women
Yet you remain elusive - immaterial, haunting,
While this visceral assault
Leaves me bewildered - empty
An echo in a chiaroscuro cavern
Fading for thee
Jul 28, 2016
Jul 28, 2016 at 5:31 PM UTC
From the ripple in a glass of water
to the sonic boom of this internal
Pompeii, the erosion
of her etymology is the only
sense of movement in her
dilated, cave-pupil eyes, those
two ghost towns spanning
and encircling all the way back,
stretched like an elastic blindfold
past the moment the first brick was laid,
perhaps her first vivid memory,
or anecdote, or first word uttered
in a Cuban slum.
There are mountains of tumbleweed
over the once thriving metropolis
that expanded towards America;
who threw herself into
the architecture of seven pillars,
borne from her land and
minerals. Gone are the
huts that housed her
knowledge of basic motor skills.
The women who once imagined
Mami and Mima as her birth
name now scrub off
the graffiti of her excrement;
they saw a swarm of pink moons
the day she told the same story
to every visitor that came
their way, each day then becoming
a missing surveillance tape, a sinkhole
dismantling the awareness
in her bones and stubborn will,
until she became
these dust-engulfed plains with
a daughter and granddaughter
archeological in their efforts
to chase down the remains
of a girl still breathing in
those eyes from time to time.
Every other ten-millionth blink of
the eye rides the silhouette of a post-infant girl
on the high tides of her quick visit,
looking in horror
as the nation of her life's nightmares,
heartaches, broken promises, romances,
spiritual breakthroughs, life-changing seconds
drowns with morbid unity en cien fuegos,
desperately attempting to assemble
the remnants of her psyche
past her cognitive bloodclots
with the awareness of one
who speaks no languages.
Gone is the moment
she first learned
to feed her several children
before the slip of sunset.
One of seven pillars remain intact,
the others long dismantled of their
stick and straw infrastructures.
One pillar remained,
housed her own colony
for nine months,
and now both descendants
travel the mind of their
greatest influence
with perplexed dedication,
caustic humor the decoy
for swarms of exhaustion
and asphyxiation
from the truthful atmosphere,
reveling in the seconds
of humanity lurking
in an abandoned etymology.
Jun 29, 2010
Jun 29, 2010 at 11:19 AM UTC
The minstrels played their Christmas tune
To-night beneath my cottage-eaves;
While, smitten by a lofty moon,
The encircling laurels, thick with leaves,
Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen,
That overpowered their natural green.
Through hill and valley every breeze
Had sunk to rest with folded wings:
Keen was the air, but could not freeze,
Nor check, the music of the strings;
So stout and hardy were the band
That scraped the chords with strenuous hand.
And who but listened?—till was paid
Respect to every inmate’s claim,
The greeting given, the music played
In honour of each household name,
Duly pronounced with ***** call,
And “Merry Christmas” wished to all.
6.2k
Who is the carrier of the mist?
Who is the harbinger of justice?
I wonder how many sweet reeds
There are that blow in the wind?
The fog, dividing the big square.
The mist, forming a circle.
An encircling protection.
The night has its shades.
We have seen the good mist
Positively rolling along the open field
Towards us
We who make the camaraderie.
“Oh, now that’s a good mist”.
The mist, the fog. Wet dew
Of sustenance
With hope, I bow to you.
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 4:06 PM UTC
Laying on the bed, reading your wedding invite.
I recall the day you went silent and I threw my crown.
Stepping down and lost myself.
Today I let you go, my love.
Not because I give up.
I believe you cared and you still do.
Your silence did cut through my flesh,
Your strangeness burnt my heart.
But here I stand today ready to let myself heal.
Years of gathering broken pieces of my heart.
My lost pieces of love, wailing to be found.
Stranded I searched, and I still do.
I held on to you, like a stubborn child.
Your memories engraved, your doings encircling my thoughts.
Strangely never remembering our fights, I was partial.
My heart wanted more, my soul was thirsty.
I found pleasure in pain.
I kept you alive.
What a splendid journey, my love.
The impeccable high of your addiction.
As I drowned, I found myself.
One day I chose to revisit my past.
Regretting the time lost to stupid fights, blaming myself.
I never felt, keeping you alive.
Stupid were my acts, unreasonable was my anger.
Childish were my demands.
A sinner, at your altar I confess.
Sleepless nights, result of a restless brain.
Blaming you for the love I dreaded I deserved,
For making me feel worthwhile.
Keeping your memories alive,
Redoing my past, for an escape.
As the odds increased, so did my grief.
For the broken promises, and the endless thoughts.
U left without a word, so did my Tears.
You coward, I pushed myself to oblivion.
I saved our love when the world sympathised.
I held on to respect, for u and our love.
Wishing you the best, I kept u alive.
My futile attempts to blame you, was a curse.
A part of me found pleasure when they blamed you,
My stupid selfish heart.
But today I let you go my love, I allow myself to heal.
You meant so much, you still do.
But life is more than just you and me.
A part of my soul is still with you, it’s yours now.
Keep it safe my love.
I’ll nurture what is left of it.
As time flies by, I’ll heal.
For a better tomorrow, for a better me.
I’ll strive with a hollow heart and a partial soul.
Thank you love, for the heat.
For never cheating my heart.
For the never ending euphoria.
I know u cared and you still do.
When you found me, I found myself.
For your breath of life, I’ll keep u alive.
You made me believe in good.
To Love someone more than my being.
Surprised I’m to know my strength.
Entwined souls, living in the moment.
We headed together, Insane and reckless.
Towards our predefined end.
I’m glad it was you and no one else.
You were the one, my wildest decision.
Oh my wings, my strength.
But today love, I let you go.
I was your princess.
Now it's someone else.
It’s time to put back my crown to rule.
U won't be forgotten my love,
but like any life chapter ours has come to an end.
Jul 28, 2016
Jul 28, 2016 at 5:31 AM UTC
Routine tests
failed
Number Four reactor
Walls melt, floor buckles
Gamma disaster
one half million men mill
by the banks of the Dnieper
Level Seven Event
Unprecedented disaster
Flesh sloughed off
Rounding the corner
cellular structure instantly scrambled
eggs toast and jelly
Gaze upon the elephant's foot
Bathe in green glowing brilliant stochastic calculation
Mutant dogs roam the tainted halls of Prypiat
Disparities reflect
true death toll unknown
Concerned Scientists shed their lights
on the encircling environment
Glittering glass carpets coat abandoned streets
Creaking Ferris wheel slowly turns into madness
Toxic twin of Fukushima
Thyroid Leukemia Cellular Damage Tumor
the caustic clouds still settling today
Generation after generation
dead women and children
Global impact particle spread
none have been spared
even into tomorrow.
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 5:07 PM UTC
I am not what I used to be
So now in the shadow of unspoken events
Everything whimsical is leaving
Words fill my head, they fragment like artillery shells
they tare through it forcing irreparable damage.
Time has accelerated
Born out of the absence of light
Shaped by my own hands
Justly worthy to be referenced and adored
I re-encounter what my elation briefly with held
The thirst for the dangerous
Obliterate the incomprehensible crowding thoughts
The stampede within my head
The mayhem of the many visions
Lock them down, all that fracture within my head
Inexplicable wanderings of mindful musings
Spontaneous perceptions
Shadow of foe
Encircling their fears with distractions
Pulsing in endless repetitions
I am the one whose throat is stripped bare.
I am the one who has not spoken in years
A distant moon to sense
© Crystal Erickson
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
she wears her jewelry proudly
purple, sometimes green,
maybe yellow
but it is always
beautiful.
she will tip back her head
and show you her
long neck and you
are overcome by the sight
of such
beauty
in one person.
sometimes she wears bracelets,
delicate
purple bands encircling
her dainty
wrists
and the colors are so beautiful.
she hardly ever wears rings
but for the purple one,
maybe an amethyst
that sits upon one of her fingers
and she will flinch
even wince if you try
to touch it.
but sometimes, maybe just once or twice,
you might even manage to
forget
that her necklace,
and those lovely bracelets
and that beautiful amethyst
which she wears so very proudly
is made up of
fingerprints.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 1:56 PM UTC
Atoms circulate between the nuclei of touch
Schrodinger’s laws exposing deceit and truth
Lamenting in the protons, electrons, and neutrons
Encircling the senses between the eyes and fingers
Particles flow between the elements of breathing
Of soul, of emotion, and memories worn thin
In terminal velocities of thought and contemplation
Barriers of consciousness and reality
Molecules of intentions, intricate and delicate
Bound together by ionic twists of fate
And strained into bent bonds of insecurity
Providing violent reactions of regrets
Ions, formed in this union, complicate the formula
Indifferent to the imbalance between the sighs
Requiring the impact, to leave a free electron of motive
Resulting in a positive change of heart and mind
© 2014
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:39 AM UTC
With the onset of the sun in the horizon, the little creatures awake
And dance and sing melodies tantamount to a group of chortling people
Oh, how i wish such convival sights be captured
And played back on repeat everytime you feel low
As vagabonds they fly in search of food and shelter
And when the sun does set, off they disappear in their nests
Robbing the nature of its beauty
For every day they have to give a survival test(from their carnivore counterparts)
The broke pigeon was no different, her eyes gleamed better than Cindrella's did
The vicissitudes of life had rendered it to be a mendicant.
But she was a resilient creature and she continued her fight everyday
Her condition started to exacerbate when she laid 4 snow like eggs
Gathering twig by twig and working for an entire afternoon meticulously
She made a perfect home for her babies which were about to hatch
Be it a human or a bird, mothers always foster the children
Off she slipped into a reverie of a bright future with her kids
But the evil nature had its own sinister plans
Her thoughts were interrupted by a cacophony of sounds of other birds
She knew the sound was ominous
Peeping out of the nest she saw a dozen eagles encircling the tree
Her blood ran cold, she wrapped the eggs around her and a teardrop made its way from her eye
The leader of the eagles stoop towards her and hit her with a beak
The broke pigeon pleaded for its life saying-"I will offer myself to you as soon as my kids learn to fly"
The Machiavillian eagle agreed at first, flew up high,leaving the broke pigeon to heave a sigh of relief
The sigh was a short lived one as it swoop down with two other eagles on the broke pigeon
Performing an act of utter perfidy, there was a sly smile on its face
Turn by turn they devoured the broke pigeon
And kicked the eggs down the nest
It was a brutal ****** much more heinous than the ones we see
But there was none to witness the fate of the broke pigeon
And even if there were, they'd never know the events that transpired
Never know.. never know.. never know..
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 11:15 AM UTC
Her shoulder rose like the moon
above the black velvet of bolero jacket
She took his arm, his eyes--
An apogee
She took the room
in reverence
So slowly
shed the mountains
shed the light
hand to touch their wonder
Gazing after
her noiseless ascent
which never happened
while they watched....
Pearls—
roll against warmth
luxuriating offspring
cool encircling
contents iridesce
their energies’ warning:
Nothing quite that simple
Nothing quite that still
Nothing like the opulence
on the Proud Eve of catastrophe
Pearls—
caught in the lining
of what never happens the first time....
She heard them before she saw them
rip their orbits!
fission her universe!
in the mezzanine of the symphony hall
Pin ball in the Fun House
Bingo bounce
off—
the hardwoods of space....
Universal Theory of Scatter?
Even now I can still hear the clatter
of their round smooth souls
in the doorways of distant relatives
How could I know?
You would condemn me
to find them all?
Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 8:31 PM UTC
There'll be a crowd encircling you, I'm sure.
They'll nod at your every word, imperfectly mimicking
what people look like when they actually listen.
I'm sure the crowd will be people we know.
Old high school friends with real estate ventures
and gyms and multi-level marketing schemes.
Most of them will be doughier, their cheeks permanently
stained red from a decade of drinking.
Most of them will have photos of their kids on their phones,
and they'll tell you they're "sure you don't want to see them"
as they pull out their phones and show you photos of their kids.
I imagine I'll approach, stop just short of the circle, pretend to bid on an Alaskan cruise.
As you talk about redoing your floor in a faux tile that looks just like the real thing for like half the price, you'll see me.
I hope you'll think of that kiss five years ago, outside of a bar in Norman, when the world entire bent for us, when all traffic silenced for us, when all people vanished for us.
Maybe you'll think of the time we ****** in a twin-sized bed, beside a wall decorated with newspaper clippings, which I thought made me look worldly and learned. I admit now the look was less academic, more serial killer.
And maybe you'll think of the manchild fit I threw when I found out you had moved on after I moved away.
And maybe you'll be totally present. Good to see you, you'll say. You will ask about my family. We will discuss the cooler weather. We will talk about your business, your kids. We will side hug and say goodbye. We will take the same route to the same exit. There will be children coloring the sidewalk with chalk. We'll each borrow a piece. I'll outline you; you'll outline me.
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 11:59 AM UTC
One gorgeous Spring day
we gathered on my deck,
a few friends and I,
to sing and play
some beautiful music
loved by us all.
My home, on a remote ridge top
of the Sierra mountains,
offered a panoramic view.
Not a single house
could be seen--
only the vast forest
surrounded us.
We accompanied our voices
with two guitars,
a flute, and a
small harp.
As we sang,
the air grew still,
and the tall, fragrant pines
encircling the house
seemed to lean in,
listening.
After awhile we paused,
to savor in silence
the sublime feeling
created by the music.
The harpist stood her harp
on the table.
Just then,
a gentle breeze came up
and the harp began to sing
as the wind's fingers
caressed the strings,
enchanting us all
with a heavenly music
unlike anything
we had ever heard.
Would that my heart
were as that harp,
responsive to
Your lightest touch--
singing endlessly
of love.
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 11:22 PM UTC
It's a heart on world with my sleeve steadily exposed
A life line on a call line, dial 888 to be controlled
Puppets on a string to compose this household
The happier we'll be the more we're enclosed
Smaller spaces to lengthen the gap
Encircling our inner self control
Consuming what's left of the demons
Trying to get a refund on our soul
Love changes colors like a rhyme
Smooth and easy
Eyes like the darkness of time
Slow and steady
Yet we're still not ready for the fight
Insanity walks through the door
And just when the time is right
Our beliefs slowly melt into the floor
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 3:42 AM UTC
All sorrow is perpendicular occurring
at right angles of tragedy encircling
the grief-stricken with straight edges
only once intersecting across infinite planes—
Don't dare draw the lines between points
or shade the region with limits or curves
because the trajectories of bullets are plotted
on branes intolerant of slightest triangulation
Woe unto the seekers of sine waves
sobbing thinking of filling every trough
believing surely by now we've offered enough
to sate these bloodthirsty Euclidean demons
Cresting won't ever arrive in this course
filled to the brim with asymptotes, cold corollaries
but never spilling over under our sacred
pledge of allegiance to the 2nd Parallel Postulate
No intersections can be admitted with thoughts
& prayers extending outward barely co-planar
serious public policy proposals axiomatic
insistence on the Nirvana Theorem or nothing
A set of all points remains, mutually exclusive
motionless and always incongruent clueless
about their own particular geometries
awaiting radical Pythagorean salvation
Some paradigm we’ve built here though!
Two hundred years of living polygonal hand
to elliptical mouth without tangential reflection
on the unproven flatness of humanspace.
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 4:41 AM UTC
There is an old hymn
this world is not my home
an old friend freely sings
its lyrics but she’s lonesome
never full of joy in her place
ready to depart
but a strong heart keeps her here
for us to talk
and laugh this year
not last or next but now
with both cheer and tears
in our eyes
and on our cheeks.
We’re not waiting.
In this long float
we can smell the fragrance of aster
not before or after
but blooming in our spring
upon this glorious encircling stream.
Jun 15, 2022
Jun 15, 2022 at 9:14 AM UTC
The glass of wine spins on sins
Encircling the royal roulette
All rotating on a hamster wheel
Pinned on canvas and illusional walls
So tiny in errors and unbalanced books
Unaccounted annotated distributions
Twisting hands on colluded coils
Deeper projections from the heart
An eruption of the social notions
Extracted on the paradise of life
For no truth echoes authenticity
Eccentrically finding a lived reality
Plato symposiums and simulacrums
Pavlov trails of social conditioning
Sampled in tented objectifications
Functioning within the invisible rules
We sniffle as we expose the false actuality
Reactive explosions from robust heat
Unloaded rods dancing under the moon
In our tenderness rejecting the paradigm
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 1:03 PM UTC
***** moisten, ******* wet.
Petite round **** ******* swollen stiff.
**** hard and fully ***** his girth is thick.
Long length, curved at the tip; tight fit.
Silk boxers on the floor, ******* next.
Naked bodies, both so magnificent.
Slippery, silky smooth tongue slid,
up and down her slit.
Lips pressing her hood.
Under it, her exposed clit,
glistens with spit,
Hot breath and warm licks
encircling her tip.
She's rolling her hips,
to the beat of the tongue licking it.
Fingers gripping her long ******* pink.
Twisting her nips, then pinched
squeezing them numb,
between his fingers and thumb.
her moans, turned high pitched
Tongue flicking, ******* as he rubs,
She tugs on his pulsating Dick.
Waves of pleasure whip through his core,
ending at his tip.
Just as quick,
******* rip, through her thick hips;
As he cums.
Her tension shifts,
from her stomach,
to the core of her hips.
Her creamy silk liquid drips,
fluids flowing, fingers sliding,
between her ***** lips.
He licks his lips clean,
cleaning off her salty drips.
Body frozen stiff,
She's shuddering;
spasms of orgasms,
riveting her hips.
He lays at her side,
her wild side subsides,
she's relishing the fix.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC