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Blissful Nobody Aug 2018
I lay under the sheets,
Undressed and yearning,
Famished and waiting,
For a taste of ambrosia.

Knock knock knock!
Come now and come in,
Embrace your desire,
And ravish my senses.

Don’t tease me,
I am at my peak,
Mortally enraptured,
By my physical form.

Come lay beside me,
Put your hands on me,
Take me whole,
I surrender in flesh.

Caress my *******,
Moisten my urges down,
Hold me tight,
And feel me now.

Hold me down now,
Watch me sizzle,
With fierce intensity,
Burn my passion out.

I need your body,
When mine takes over,
Come in and take it all,
Out ; when I simmer down.

Come again when I desire,
Hear my carnal call,
I want you in me,
A taste of ecstasy.

I lay here now,
Bare on the bed,
Ceased by desire,
Free me now.

Restless feet bother,
Kiss them and in between,
Soften the bridges,
So you may pass.

Forward and backward,
All leads to ecstasy,
Touch me whole,
Touch me now .
Experimenting with erotica;)
laurynas-dyma Apr 14
euphoric trip down
our bodies, getting
physical. your
touch, hand,
heavenly, divine.
lose yourself
in my curves,
loving them more
than me. yearning
for pleasure, easy,
go for it, i'm yours.
your body connects
to mine, together,
hooked on the
passion. ******.
don't stop,
never, just more,
harder, hardly
breathing. over-
flowing libido,
as i cry your
name, begging.
we're one
breath, one
heart, until
we land from
heaven to earth.
separate entities
again.
Alyssa Underwood Jul 2016
Come after me, O glorious Divine Possessor.
Conquer, shackle, and entomb my straying,
faithless affections in Your love once more.
Sweep me up into Your strong and jealous
embrace till my heart is fully bent toward Yours.
Have Your way with me until it is all I desire,
until You are all I desire, Lord Jesus.
Unveil me, uncover me and unbind me
before Your penetrating eyes, the perfect gaze
of You with Whom alone I have to do.
Awaken me until I am wholly abandoned
to Your pleasure, completely responsive
to Your touch, utterly enraptured,
enthralled and entangled with You.
Break me for Your glory, sovereign Lord.
Pierce my soul to its deepest hidden parts
and pour Yourself into me until You have
totally claimed me as Your own possession,
Your willing captive, until there is no delight
in my heart but You and Your delight.
O Holy One above, set me to burning!
Inspired by John Donne's Holy Sonnet XIV
King Panda Jul 2017
I’ve forgotten
to be anything but
space—so enraptured
with the black that
the forest was
less than a goose pimple
on earth’s flesh.

I have ignored the
eighth notes
hanging from the pines.

I have forgotten
the snowbirds and whipped
winds.

I have numbed the needles
pocking skin through
my jeans.

I have forgotten green.

I have forgotten green.

I have forgotten green.

now
the light of frozen
flies dims
in your mouth.

now
love washes out
in seasons.

now I eat
sugar-frosted buckthorn.

And I see you
ready to touch
through one
hundred leaves
and foliage.
Jesse stillwater Aug 2018
Out here in the fields of the distance
whither the wind blows the silence further afield;
roughhewn footprints show a windswept pathway  
from whence feral feet lightly trod   

Only the passing whispers chase after the gypsy wind:
that the silence be in quire, placed aloft like a sigh,
pealing through the gentle sway of sweet grass' hush

There are no walls need echo an evanescent wind-song
as each breath of earthen psalm vanishes
lilting into the crystalline quietude colour;

The callused patience still held in these hands
is frayed and tattered, but hope heals stronger
than a ream of paper wings to fly away

And I'm mindful I'm not alone again, lost in
a lingering silent storm — pensively listening —
enraptured aneath all the big skies hold
 

                    Jesse Stillwater
Thank you for reading: Out here in the distance
Sing on, sing on,
sweet nightingale!
You fill my night
with flowing song.
Enraptured, I
will drink of you
'til moon and stars
are gone.
oh yes!
'til all the stars
are gone.
For Marsha Singh, ephemeral nightingale
Copyright by Michael S. 'Simpson, 2013.  
All rights reserved by the author.
Enraptured by the glories
And wisened by each sin
I drink in every story
Written by many a pen

I find myself afloat
In seas of ink
Adrift without a boat
Into the words I sink

Immersed in their pages
As many men and women
Dance across as many stages

I find solace beneath the black waves
Bound betwixt two covers
They bring me so much joy
And always brighten my day
Rae Slager Mar 2018
i'd love to be a ******
inside that clandestine mind of yours,
wallflower

what are you thinking?

is it funny?
is it *****?
are you judgmental?
scared?
would you be embarrassed?

i promise not to laugh

looking at you
i become enraptured in those
big coffee-ground eyes
and while others would say
the eyes are portals to the soul
i'd argue
yours mold me into a naive alice
falling down that wily rabbit's hole
always landing with a thump

in fact
i'd call you selfish
when those rabbit hole eyes
dart around the bustling room
and i can tell you have something fantastic
bouncing around in that mind of yours
and yet you keep it to yourself

but truthfully

i am the perverse one here

and you are something wonderful
Nico Julleza Jun 2017
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
Loneliness is the name we gain
Abandoned in attics of despaired shame
We might not know who our maker is
Nor even how we're birthed without a single kiss

Sailing shore to shore of no causing way
We fly, we glide, we slip away

Each day is our rite without rights
Pondered those colors from black to white
And out our interluding charades
Oh, how we are judge by senseless mocking jays

Enraptured by our capacities we can engage
Still we leered showing a zealous face

From dust, A man was oddly fabricated
A tapestry of wonders to show its vivacity
He's so different from our Avant name
And has a thought that could seize a luring day

But if he never saw how wide the narrow he'd take
From dust a man shall die ever the same
#Dust #Man #Fly #Glide #SlipAway

(NCJ)POETRYProductions. ©2017
avalon Apr 2018
the dark-eyed girl, audessa, laughs. her laugh sounds like red velvet or crystal champagne glasses and it’s magnetic. even nikolai seems enraptured by her, and he is never impressed with anyone. envy rises in my throat.
Pyrrha Feb 11
Maybe I can't wither or wilt
because I'm not a flower
maybe I'm still just a seed
waiting to sprout into something beautiful,
something powerful enough to take over you
or perhaps I'm already
a garden in full bloom
a gem hidden in a perpetual spring
maybe I've already enraptured you

Tell me world, do I already have you
wrapped around my finger?
Homunculus Jan 7
Enraptured in
a fevered spasm,

Captured in the
mind's phantasm,

Swimming through
the ectoplasm,

Pouring from the
roaring chasm,

Hidden in the
soul's recess

A subtle, gentle,
warm caress

So jubilant, it  
doth redress,

The hindrances which
so suppress,

The progress of the
spirit's wellness,

Showing things which
words can't tell us,

Giving gifts, which
none can sell us,

Do you
hear the
bell that's
ringing?
                  
ringing
              from a
                           distant
                                        shore?

It resonates from
mammoth spheres,

In orbit, shedding
countless years,

Through aeons of
causality,

And boundless
temporality

We see how worlds
arise and cease,

We see how yearning
lays the fleece,

The wool over the eyes,
deceiving, cool

Dispassion's peace
relieving, our

Great webs
of pain and sorrow,

Darkening,
to light the morrow

For as all things
must come apart,

So suffering's,
great work of art,

is merely but
a transience,

receding slowly
in the dark.
Notes.
Saint Audrey Jun 2018
A blinding
Hopeless inclination towards a blending of nostalgia
And something just a twinge surreal.
Too enraptured, perhaps, or too locked inside the senses
The search takes me places, to small shards that I don't quite comprehend.
Still unsure why, if I can't, or I just don't want to.

It's old and familiar
Soaking in solitude, rife with memory.
Touched lightly by the hem of rose tint, blooming in the spreading flames.
As the old wooden paneling, tried as a tinderbox
Begins to peel away, affected by the heat.
A fire, awakening with the first rays of morning.
To warm up the little room, as the walls softly fall, turning to ashes.
Revealing the bare frame.
And the fauna outside begins to show itself
Sprinkled with dew, gently coaxing away the flames.
Rooted too close, it would seem
As they progress, slowly wither under ash

But for now, I still crawl through creation.
Hopeless, I'll never recapture...
Ignoring new context, engulfed in this fruitless rapture
With the past still dancing through my head.
TD Apr 8
And so it begins.
Hunter greens with shades of brown
weaved in just so
sweet relief is nearing.
Yawning fields, mouths open wide
their cheeks slightly wet with tears.
mourn the spring’s shivering sigh.
Nature’s renewal rocks the cradle
with serendipitous lullabies.

Then starts the heated exchange
where fading eyes seek
to warm their dying stems
and rest their lashes on
soiled sleeves.
Enraptured by a lulling dream
drowsy with promises.

The bitter char of crackling leaves startles
at their nestled irises.
Raucous taunts and warring emotions
on the outskirts of consciousness.  
It’s better to dream against
the frightening noise
the encroaching chill.
And sleep they do.

Aww but when spring abounds
a jaunty nod and cheeky grin
are what remain.
Naked kelly orbs wink with joy
grounded in maturity.
Their strong backs to the sun tell a story
of purpose and poise.

And I’m hard put to deny
the deep-seated brilliance realized
in life’s renewal
once again.
Graff1980 Sep 2018
Face flushed
I taste dust,
cause she’s livid
with a vivid
imagination.

I move up
one bar
then back down
to the clown car.

Light signal changes
to the wrong color
giving me
a signal to see
that is a
confusing
communique.

I am enraptured
by the next chapter
she used to capture
my heart.

The past is the spark
where she parked
her poetic heart,
as I asked to see
whatever she
would grant me
freely,
in her poetry.

I long for
a great dialogue,
but she
doesn’t
long for me.
So, I am left to see
the slow decline
of my sanity.
You
On you the scent of sweat and alcohol is perfume,
Every part of you calls to me here in the darkness of my room,
Do I listen to the soft silk of your hair?
Or the sound the moon makes caressing your skin so sublimely fair?
The sounds you make as we lay there,
Your breath, your words, symphonies to my ear.

Once, the golden sun kissed waters of emerald,
Exulting with bliss, the pink skies its herald,
Of the joy that comes from goodbyes well said,
And the last sight seen, his lover on her ocean bed,
Yet had he caught sight of you upon my chest so daintily arrayed,
The world would never again know night, on you his gaze would stay.

My ears are blessed with melodies from your lips,
Your smile mesmerising as I caress your hips,
My eyes close but my sight remains favoured,
By the nimbus of your beauty warm and meant to be savoured,
Then you lay still and I’m enraptured by your presence,
The way your heat seeps through me while I sip your essence.

You occupy every ounce of desire my mind contains,
My passion, your sighs and exultations sustain,
And as you dip below the horizon of sanity,
Driven by the way my tongue celebrates our humanity,
You adorn my embrace with the effortless allure of your shape,
And I’m lost once again revelling in the remnants of your taste.
mannley collins Feb 2017
The body that I am incarnated in was born in the middle of the very rainy summer of 1939.
My vehicle for life.
All seeing-all smelling --all tasting--all touching--all speaking--all hearing --all sensing --perambulating -singing-dancing-cooking--drinking --painting--******* etc etc vehicle.
Born a few months before the Second World War,with all its nonsensical religiously patriotic and democratically oligarchic and liberally fascistic evil nonsense, started.
Makes me a Rider of the Storm eh?.
Eat yer heart out Jim Morrison!.
Slid out of my mothers womb in the upper room of a brand new house.
Situated on a new street somewhere on a new development on the edge of a 3000 years old walled city in 'gods' own country'--that's what they called it.
Yorkshire!.
First smell I remember,clearly,was rain soaked Lilac and Earth mixed together.
Their scent coming hrough the open bedroom window.
AAAAH rain soaked Lilac.
Second smell was Tobacco from downstairs where my father was anxiously chain smoking.
Then came my first taste.
He,my father,dipped the tip of his little finger into his glass of celebratory Whiskey and poked it into my mouth as I lay there,wrapped in swaddling clothes.
Irresponsibility!!.
Second taste was her warm rich creamy breast milk.
And so my days and nights started.
They told me the name that I was to answer to--as if it was the whole of me.
They told me my beliefs and attitudes and desires and limitations and skills etc etc.
They told me that what I have come to know was my conditioned identity was the real me---but it isn't!..
The lied to me --in innocent ignorance.
My sister taught me to read and write by the time I was 3 years old.
I grew up knowing,deep down, that I was something else.
Not the 'Something Else' that Ornette Coleman played,on his magnificent disc,either.
War raged elsewhere throughout my childhood--mainly across the seas far away.
I watched flight after flight of four engine bombers roar overhead every day ,on their way to drop bombs on children I would never meet.
There was a busy air base 2 miles away from the house I was born in.
Once an injured bomber,coming back from a raid,crashed in flames on two houses at the top of the street I lived in.
I found war to be a hellish and frightening experience.
And along the way I discovered that I couldnt explain to 'myself' who I was, exactly,either.
That my parenters gift of identity was misleading.
I asked 'myself' who or rather what was I?.
By the time I was 3 years I was a ******* from 'Osteomylitis'--or so they told me.
I couldn't walk with massive  left hip joint pain I suffered.
I spent the years from 3 to 6 in a traction bed in a couple of hospitals.
Gobbling down Cod liver oil and Malt for the vitamins--and it worked!!!.
At 6 I learned to walk--YES!!!.
All that pain was left behind.
Thank you Gautama.
My life was suffering but as you supposedly said.
Suffering can be overcome.
And I overcame it.
And I ran and jumped across streams and climbed trees and walked for miles and miles and danced the dance of life.
I foraged for blackberries and wild mushrooms and crabapples and horseradish roots and rosehips and other fruits of nature.
I fell in love with the song of the Yellowbeak--Blackbird to you.
Became enraptured by the smell of wild Roses in the hedgerows.
And I sang and sang and sang and danced and danced and danced.
And all the while I just knew that I wasn't the body that I was incarnated in.
Even though my parenters kept on insisting that I was that body.
And I knew that I wasn't who they had told me I was either.
I knew that I wasn't the conditioned identity of the body that they insisted I was..
At 9 years I passed an exam and won a free scholarship place at a fee paying 'public' school.
My education started in earnest.
Lain and French andAlgebra and Geometry and  expectations of University.
I fell in love for my very first time at around 12 years old.
Raymond was his name.
He taught me how bisexual I was.
I swallowed litres of his body fluids.
Oh how I loved him.
Then after 2 ecstatic years he rejected me because I was a different class to him.
AAAAARGH!.
Then around 14 years the monthly seizures started.
A regular dark descent into unconsciousness.
I experienced the small death of Julius Ceasar and Leonardo Da Vinci.
Back to waking consciousness after an hours out of the body trip into the Astral realms.
Waking with total total amnesia.
With no mind or conditioned identity but both came back within one hour of waking and took over again.
Along with a helluva headache.
But I woke as me--who or whatever that was.
I wasn't who they said I was.
I was me!.
Whatever that was.
Where did I come from?
My purpose in life became to find out what I was and what the source of my existence was.
Teenage life as a rock n roller started beckoned and I embraced party life.
I won cups of silver for dancing very energetically to Bill Haley and Chuck Berry.
I discovered the other half of my bisexuality.
I found girls.
Oh girls how I love you.
and love you and love you.
I started to play trombone at 18 years.
Then trumpet and drums then into my life walked MISS SAXOPHONE and I melted!!!!.
Alto alto wobbly lines of sound poured out from the bell of my alto sax.
I was 23 and toying with buddhism and social alcoholism and playing saxophone jazz(probably badly).
26 and I got married for the first time.
I was playing Free Jazz rather amateurishly by now.
In 1967 I moved to London--became a longhaired hippy--started my own band called BrainBloodVolume--took many doses(literally 1000s) of pure LSD and Mescaline and Psyllocybin and DMT--embraced diet reform--became ordained as a buddhist monk in 1966--played with Jimi Hendrix and John Lennon and the pink Floyd--went to live in the Balearic Islands--Mallorca,Ibiza,Formentera--started to do oil paintings--had a Master Class in Concert Flute playing from Roland Kirk in the dressing room at Ronnie Scotts Jazz Club in London.Became addicted to Macrobiotic Food and Spring Water and puffing Waccy Baccy(always through a Water Pipe..



Its been seventy seven years in this incarnation that I have been wandering the face of this big ball in space seeking the answer to the eternal questions of life.

What am I and where do I come from and what is my purpose?.

And here  is the answer--!!.

I am an individual isness formed solely from a small but equal independent and autonomous portion of the isness of the universe.

Each individual isness is an eternal, small but equal, independent, autonomous,nameless, formless,genderless,classless,casteless,non physical and unconditionally  loving portion of the isness of the universe.

The isness of the universe is the whole of the nature of reality and is the sole source of all existence and is eternal,nameless,formless, genderless,beingless and autonomous and unconditionally loving and is not a 'god' or a 'goddess' or any kind of being.

I live in the joyousness of shared unconditionally loving union with the isness of the universe.
KJ Reed Aug 14
She must steal sips of starlight;
have kissed the moon's pale cheek,
been blessed as one of her constellations,
because, she thinks,
not even Icarus must have been this enraptured by the sun,
or Orion the moon;
and if it meant burning,
she would throw everything into the feeling of fire in her chest,
flowers blooming in her lungs
all from just looking at her beloved.
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