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"equisite" poems
Desire to see How you'd be Makin my world flee Dont know how to feel Cuz lovin u is my need That i cant stop but feed Eyes turning with speed Whenever u proceed Yet your always accompanied Afflicting to admit but envied Makin my heart bleed For they may mislead For i am pitied If only youd forseen Decree as my queen By all means an equisite scene Not a soul step intervene Abundant love since sixteen Take you to cuisine For all is unseen Have all ur questions I'd answer with combustion You may ask am i the right one? Different from everyone? Worthy or is there no one? But this aint done So listen You maybe be taken But i have ur heart won Give you all for love you more than all Haunting yet sacrifice my self in any circumstances given Always and forever there for u for certain Stand out as there mistakin They dare forsaken Have audacity to Heartbreakin my queen be ****** heartachein My undertakin bringin them shakin Cuz none will stop my wrath for godsakin I am thier nightmare satan Deeply awakin like a hawk I am not all talk But at least not like them to stalk Have u in a shock cuz i am destined to rock Have ur love lock full of stock that none can knock Dont care if i am mocked Waiting for all ticks on clock No need if you let me have u spoken Take all my action Never be forgotten For ill give all my attention Be your best decision https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=xuCXbqTW5aY
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Oct 18, 2020
Oct 18, 2020 at 5:18 AM UTC
"Am i worthy?"
I have discoverd Through ink And parchment Paint and canvass Paper and poem Pillow and cloud The miracle of you Nothing quite as Lovely or equisite Beautiful and true As your hearts warmth And souls light As the endless oceans And Vincent blues And madness Swirling in the magic Of the starry night Of your eyes Beyond sands of hour And hands of time I will paint With my every breath These words Again and Again I Love You
0
Jul 13, 2016
Jul 13, 2016 at 5:41 AM UTC
I have discoverd
It is the capacity only to act for myself. It is the capacity neither of self-subsistence nor without self-reliance. It is neither the epitome of wisdom, nor the epitome of ignorance. It is not the epitome of beauty nor the epitome of ugliness. Lack doesn't make for worry and excellences are counted as special gifts of life. Like a ****** pressed between my fingers is my soul in God's Presence. Thus, do I recognize my karma as not the best, but not the worst. It is surrounded by pretty, but not the equisite. It is surrounded by clutter and dirt, but not grotesque filth. It is as a middle ground from which any quality would cease the ground's existence. It is not mommy or daddy, not child and not adult. It is not old nor young. It is not sun nor moon, but star. It is not perfection, but comfortable imperfection. It is not as fair as pastel, nor as gaudy as neon. It is not known, but not unknown. It is not host of a soul, yet does not exclude any soul. It does not grasp, nor release. "Why is your skin orange?" It is joking about vanity. It is not slack, nor is it strong effort. It is not wickedness, nor is it judgement. It is not righteousness, nor is it evil. It is not astray, nor is it unastray. It is not a party, nor is it loneliness. It is the monk of reality. It pretends not to harness all of my memories. Nor does it pretend not to conjure memories. It is not shadow, nor light. It is the plastic-self, unable to be immortal, and unable to abide mortally. It is the spirit of self, yet the spirit of others. It is not empty, nor full. It is construction of the simple. It is construction of the difficult. It is cleaning the toilet. It aligns with no group, nor does it not exist in any group. It is folly through shallowness. It is wisdom from shallowness. It is not pure, nor does it lack purity. It is not popular, nor does it fail to get attention. It is desire, not not sin. It is her, but not Her. It is resurrection, but not life nor death. It is not heard, nor listened. It is not unhealthy, nor is it strong. boyhood crushes. It is not power, nor is it incapacity. It is not opinionated, nor is it opinionless. It is not blood, nor is it light. It is not long, nor short. It is not curved, nor straight. It is not solid nor gas. It is not water nor is it not a liquid. It is not salt nor is it not saline. It is not belt, nor backpack. It is not car nor home. It is not bed nor is it not rest. It is not gold nor bread. It is not giving nor hoarding. It is not meat but it is cheese. It is not poor, nor rich. It is not career nor retirement. It is not fair, nor unfair. It is holy, but not pure. It is not heresy, nor help. It is not metro nor country. It is not the center nor is it the side. It is not age nor mind. It is not body nor heart. It is not skin nor bone. It is not brief nor long. It is not sink nor swim. It is not lesson nor tale. It is not story nor biography. It is not virtue nor vice. It is not a lie nor a truth. It is not shallow nor deep. It is not structure nor process. Samadhi.
0
Nov 17, 2020
Nov 17, 2020 at 12:32 AM UTC
What is it?
It is the capacity only to act for myself. It is the capacity neither of self-subsistence nor without self-reliance. It is neither the epitome of wisdom, nor the epitome of ignorance. It is not the epitome of beauty nor the epitome of ugliness. Lack doesn't make for worry and excellences are counted as special gifts of life. Like a ****** pressed between my fingers is my soul in God's Presence. Thus, do I recognize my karma as not the best, but not the worst. It is surrounded by pretty, but not the equisite. It is surrounded by clutter and dirt, but not grotesque filth. It is as a middle ground from which any quality would cease the ground's existence. It is not mommy or daddy, not child and not adult. It is not old nor young. It is not sun nor moon, but star. It is not perfection, but comfortable imperfection. It is not as fair as pastel, nor as gaudy as neon. It is not known, but not unknown. It is not host of a soul, yet does not exclude any soul. It does not grasp, nor release. "Why is your skin orange?" It is joking about vanity. It is not slack, nor is it strong effort. It is not wickedness, nor is it judgement. It is not righteousness, nor is it evil. It is not astray, nor is it unastray. It is not a party, nor is it loneliness. It is the monk of reality. It pretends not to harness all of my memories. Nor does it pretend not to conjure memories. It is not shadow, nor light. It is the plastic-self, unable to be immortal, and unable to abide mortally. It is the spirit of self, yet the spirit of others. It is not empty, nor full. It is construction of the simple. It is construction of the difficult. It is cleaning the toilet. It aligns with no group, nor does it not exist in any group. It is folly through shallowness. It is wisdom from shallowness. It is not pure, nor does it lack purity. It is not popular, nor does it fail to get attention. It is desire, not not sin. It is her, but not Her. It is resurrection, but not life nor death. It is not heard, nor listened. It is not unhealthy, nor is it strong. boyhood crushes. It is not power, nor is it incapacity. It is not opinionated, nor is it opinionless. It is not blood, nor is it light. It is not long, nor short. It is not curved, nor straight. It is not solid nor gas. It is not water nor is it not a liquid. It is not salt nor is it not saline. It is not belt, nor backpack. It is not car nor home. It is not bed nor is it not rest. It is not gold nor bread. It is not giving nor hoarding. It is not meat but it is cheese. It is not poor, nor rich. It is not career nor retirement. It is not fair, nor unfair. It is holy, but not pure. It is not heresy, nor help. It is not metro nor country. It is not the center nor is it the side. It is not age nor mind. It is not body nor heart. It is not skin nor bone. It is not brief nor long. It is not sink nor swim. It is not lesson nor tale. It is not story nor biography. It is not virtue nor vice. It is not a lie nor a truth. It is not shallow nor deep. It is not structure nor process. Samadhi.
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I radiate light my dear Divine, milky, plus-size sphere Mysterious femininity at my axis Boys orbit my Atmosphere But the brave land their ships On my marvelous mountains And equisite garden I am an ambassador for Mother Earth Come taste the freshest rain And view the prettiest flower I keep secret between The space where I can Make fantasies come true
0
May 18, 2019
May 18, 2019 at 4:16 PM UTC
Light