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WS Warner Nov 2013
Part One
Nascent Craving

The insular heart unsealed; pearled eyes
Breach parapets of stone— periled shield,
The sweetest ****—
A threatening wonder and irrefragable synergy,
Nervous routes of cognition  
In this nascent, amorous craving.
Locked and abased,
Dissonance lends pathos — euphoric and onerous,
Disconsolate cries curb sublimation,
The regnant bleed diffusing — fervid lust
Fondled, tactile surfaces in throbbing anticipation.

Sullen, aft a veil of laughter,
Visceral aftermath, out of
The ardent ash,
Burns a thirst;
Insuperable numbness and ache.
Efflorescent intimacy,
Table for two
Enraptured in new alliance,
Élan vital (psyche);
Urgent dialect petitions
Equivocation, jocularity blending
Provocation with indecision,
Noted lilt of descending inhibition.

Adrift, the incessant Now;
As occasion inexorably diminished;
Resonant simpatico tending,
Numinous amity;
Heard conversant, cognitive idioms—
Lassitude, time-eaten pangs of the unhinged heart,
Wounds axiomatic,
In disquieting synergy,
Nibbling, the circumference—
Misery’s permeating truth;
None immune, all trundle incongruously past,
Facing intrepid savages.

Licitly felt, reverberations of Amor
Whence the heart behaves;
Measured cadence, pulse elevating—
Treasured lover, contemplative muse;
Undulating clasp, inflated bone of absence;
Incarnation — a woman,
Beyond prosaic;
Ineffable adoration pours in certitudes of verse,
Elenita, enclothed —virtue unvarnished;
Reservoir intrinsic, poised advocate of the innocent:
The crooked lines of insolence,
Brazen culture of neglected youth.
Perceptive blue stare, sensitized tears—
Plaintively, evincing her injustice ago.

Part Two
Tendered Senses

Siren silence, eruptive blush, ampler between phrases
In dulcet tones — stirring discourse;
Foments rebellion, the strife beneath— his ****,
Out of its vast reserve,
Penetrate the narrowed ambit, vaguely announced.
Groping hands, migrating the sensual member
Stern faces grimacing— mirror in abrasion,
Under the blind surf of consent;
Burrowing ambiguity, emerging torsion,
Plunge, enlisted and content in the sea;
Subsumed in the nonverbal cue,
Persuasion’s plea,
Quelled in the post cerebral assent.

Piercing eyes parallel crystalline waters of Lake Tahoe.

An untouched portion of his awareness remains aloof,
Palpable in the subsequential quiet,
Obsequious and febrile, they sinned on sofas;
Peregrine predilections quenched and viscid—
Serenely requited, the room breathes her presence,
Limp, figures *******, mantled in adolescent torpor.

Erudition in bloom, trust undoubted,
Illuminating, satiating; tempest calm—
Under canvas
Terrain soaked and sodden,
Postliminary — rains of invalidation.
Allowance and permission
Recalibrate, salivate, shortly only—
Initiate, obliged consecration, appraising
Curvatures of the spine,
Stuns him obeisant, her femenine pulchritude,
Propinquity inciting vigor,
Emergent allure, the updriven
Tower of wood sprung from the blanket.


Suffused in ether, purring streams of remembrance
Vaginal honeyed dew, sung into
Orchids, remnants of remember;
Drenched down the cynosure of devotion;
Succulent view, diaphanous pantied bottom;
Halcyon mist, saporous wine — compliance of the will,
Freed fires wander,
Pliable rind, twin plums dripping,
Abject confession, dispatching doubt
In tendered senses,
Pivotal tree, lavender Jacaranda holds the key,
Unfurled, cindered vulnerability.

Half-denuded skin invites confessional savor
Acutely bubbled rear, fleshly furnished denim;
Sultry visit, San Ramon Valley in the fall,
Strewed limbs splendid, flowing filmy;
Imagination yields—
Bursting silk congealed
Across deft thighs, ambrosial thong draping ankles,
Grazing ascension, the curvaceous trajectory
Nose inflamed with fragrance,
Inhaling, climb of acquiescence,
The ****** weal, amid the globed fruit,
Focal intention — ploughed lance thrusting,
Absconding, the ancillary perfume of essence.

Perceiving avid validation,
Swimmingly, amid the monstrous gaze.
  
Humid skies simper dank, set swell the incense of Eros,
Surge of poetry engorged
The flame levened shaft,
Nimble ******* flounce, spill the harboring mouth;
Moist hands merging, unfettered,
Weave in supplication,
Vicinity voicing, enmeshed diversion;
Supple and spherical behind
Posterior arch, milky-skin against the lip—
Ripeness jostling their complacency;
Lapped the mooring, ridden decisively;
Recapitulating— spumed forth, bellied over hips warmth.
Abandon the dirge of self-pity
Late under ego’s trance.
  
Part Three
Present Tenses

Tempting trespass across sacred gardens,
Flowering, scandal set luminous: attachment—
Consensual, their corresponsive fear;
Protean manifestations— evocative, perpetual
Unutterable contention in a fictive resolve,
Deliberating the merits of their widely disparate tastes in coffee,
Amorously touring wine, let’s drowse through the gnarled vine.
Sundry deficiencies pale, once contrasted;
The beatific vision—
Material substance unaccompanied,
Imperceptible, tear-streamed cheeks in synch,
Ventral kiss, peak of carnal perfection,
Reminiscence— flesh violent with Love.

Fiction knew to meander the innominate rift,
A tincture of irony soften misdeeds
Immense as the sea.
Insolvent beast stippled with sapience—
Unmasked, the fabric of delusion;
Dependence smothering the disciplined heart
Resentment put up for release.

Waste of residual years
Fate’s apportion, scars bleakly observed;
Chastened by heartache, engulfing fervor
Too faint to recapture.
Vague glimpses dry—
Hypervigilant his defenses,
Veritable suspensions, embers lit linger;
Slender walls of solidity, the horizoned self,
Faith and reason in concert — stone levels of elucidation.

Fractured bones of distance, emanate a rigid salience,
Another ponderous night of absence—
Lingering, cauldron of dearth as indifference ushers,
The quotidian coil of contrition.
Tearful pallor, sequestered —ciphering time and solitude;
The unkissed mouth, his restive brow;
Suspend in the approximate span.
                      
After Lucid alliterations are spoken
Devoid of her face, his lover’s nudge—
The man nurtures his hurt.

Anxious as seldom unscarred,  
Venus’s susurrations,
In present tenses,
Kissed by her serenades of integration—
Notwithstanding metaphysic intrusion,
No chain stays unbroken,
Postponed drifts of deferment left unspoken,
Reverberations of amor.

© 2013 W. S. Warner
To Eileen
Keloquial Sep 2012
eruptive laugher,
hidden by the trees of yesterday,
past the place that's lost it's bridge.
ultimate chuckling,
i think i see smoke.
SassyJ Feb 2016
Hypotonic collusions
Rising in osmotic lesions
An eruptive soul reversion

Emissions of embered logs
Each lightening with a glow
A youthful straw of clemency

Pollinated sandals, handled
Gripping the flesh in vessels
Houses of lost and unreal dreams

Vicarage gardens of suppression
Masticated in delegated abstractions
A surmise of death and redistributions

Each a beat rise, slide on frosty ice
Un-enveloped in seasons of erosion
Delusional commotions sprawled

In the dance of the ecstatic programming
The body waved and led in hypnosis
******* with the intangible essence

To make sense a revised tense,I fence
Straying in lenient lunacy to fields afar
A merry to ferry the phoenix dance

Rattles shaking in transit translations
Drums pause settling in finesse pond
A coitus of dimensional valour and vice
Carlo C Gomez Aug 2021
~
Mother of many waters
the manner with which she ascends
is sympathetically informed
we are a running spring
from her womb
flowing along the magical line
of peaks and summits
to cascading fiery birthright

and the rain fell
and the snow settled
and the ice theologized
to remind us
the outside world still worships
her eruptive embers

~
Meagan Moore Jan 2014
the driftwood fits perfectly in my palm
I unspool the seaweed from its taper
furling it about my finger

my marriage to the sea was disputed
with a tiny crab that day
gentle tug-o-war with my heart
and my eruptive roar
echoing his staunch request
to keep his algae blanket - and home
the equivalent of a cardboard box in childhood
Artelie Palijo Mar 2015
hard-wood rocking-horse
between thighs of porcelain white.
sweat drips, rhythmic oscillation
of bones that ferrociously grind.

salty, soft, sweet-wine lips;
heavy, humid, breath of steam.
closed-eyes search for surrender,  
and signs of admitted defeat.

hymns of pleasure-ridden-falsettos echo;
eruptive moans reverberate in diaphragms;
trapped in throats, restricted groans
fight their way out of closed mouths.

tearing through flesh
arrows find their targets:
bombarded zones left unguarded
are continually pillaged without regret.

hard-wood rocking-horse
still ****** between thighs
of ruined statues of goddesses
made of porcelain, so white.
Originally titled "The Cavalry vs. Venus de Milo"  on account of being unable to fight back.
Debra A Baugh Jan 2013
he illuminated my sense of longing,
as if, flame to a candle

a dew drop of morning sunrise on petals,
splashed upon open lips grazing silken flesh

I rise to his touch, lingering like a river gliding
over smooth pebbles of a moonlit lake

he traced tremble, following its eruptive point,
fore, time ticked within shadow of us silhouetted
against the moons light

he smiled...

I melted into his comfort; baring wants secret
longing; breathing one another's breath

underneath a moonlit warm sultry night, I watched
his eyes embrace my entirety in a beggars need

he gasped, skimming fingers across open lips wet
in ache; tongue kissing me deep

our earth stood still; as masculinity entered my
dawn, where stars cease to shine and his eyes
told our story

his hands, read me front to back in articulated whispers
impregnating mind and body with desires impingement

our want no more, until our heaven and earth
meets again whispering I love you

savoring morning's first dew drop
deeply swaddled
in troubled sleep

covered in
blankets
soaked
with woe

vast crushing stones
of daytime vexations
wring out
the very last
drops of aching
night sweats

a constricting
conscience

strangles
the possibility
of rest

eruptive
violent
struggles

subverts

a desperate
restoration

this damnable
listless sleep

yet in the
nadir of torment

as another
bleak daybreak
creeps closer

a fluttering
voice
hovers
to whisper
courageous
dreamscapes
into my
drowsy ear

"don't be afraid,
I am with you
commanding
the help of
an army
of angels
10,000
strong!"

these are
the days
of miracles
and wonder

don't cry
no more

Paul Simon:
Boy in the Bubble

Happy Birthday
Paul Simon

Jacobs Dream
Marc Chagall

jbm
Oakland
10/13/11
I turn around with all the trepidation a single turning motion can manifest in a human body. I'm looking at the blackest daemon I've ever seen, a billion of his white eyes staring right back at me. I'm distraught for a moment. This is the edge of the universe.

Me?

Well, I've traveled a tangled path since my conception, a born wanderer of these dark, frost-tipped mountains my whole life. I've always had something to hold on to during my deep treks into the abyss. My mother's protection stayed with me wherever I went, remembering to go the speed limit past planets filled with life and death, stars of eruptive strength, moon's of ghostly luminance. I've fought against a myriad of space-pirate ****, befriended alien species you could only dream of having and torn through the stringiest of worm holes, leaving only bad time behind me, all in her name. My father taught me how to run my ship well; I've been sailing these black tides in his trademark downward ***** fashion ever since I got a handle of the control systems. He personalized the grid himself, starting with that big red button for "ignition." That's easier to remember than reprogramming it myself, right? You could say I've sailed my ship into a few wrong turns here and there, a couple of undone screws from the engine pressure. I've never meant to go outside the boundaries of what my ship can handle, a stable ideology my parents had taught me in my youthful years in the spaceflight academy; Those were the very days my destiny had been written through the sky.

This beat up piece of machinery I call a transportation device had puttered out at the very edge of all existence, my woven destiny utterly behind me. I only threw one thing at a wall and I really can't remember what it was; you could say I had a mild emotional breakdown. Here were all these tiny, beady stars I'd been connecting like dots since the very beginning of my life's journey and none of my past plotting made sense anymore; the yarn I left behind must have been strung with invisible fabric.

The mirror of a windshield I once peered through (mostly caused by the terminal blackness of space) was just a ******* portrait placed their to tease me. All that time and energy, all my wandering and fallen bolts I could never ***** back into my ship again...

Now staring through my very own wide-screen ink blot, parts of which I had traveled, others of which I still had time to visit and still others of which a therapist would later find disturbing: right then, something happened to my ******* eyes.

“Woh.
Is that seriously
a cloud-shaped star system
I'm seeing out there?
That is!
I don't believe
what my visors
are seeing right now.”

And a fist shaped system too. No, no that's a heart shaped one. And a person dancing to music and a table of friends and a girl's beautiful smile. They were right in front of me, all this time, and yet I had been running circles around them until I finally hit a ledge. For a moment I wondered what my invisible yarn would've shown me in the stars had it not been invisible yarn; it must have always been a malicious sentient creature that knew he'd get his *** kicked if I ever found him after this episode.

Looking down at the control pads of my ship, I begin reprogramming (a process that takes time) not just my plotted course into new territory, but also the grid's controlling functions themselves. I like the color green so I'll make that the "ignition".
they get into your pant
sting the fleshiest part
concerns they've scant
if the bitten is hurt
no sooner than dangers they read
quickly inject formic acid.

easily irritable they're venomous
the pain they inflict can't be quietly nursed
don't they ever bother size of victim
elephantine fat or grasshopper slim
just one bite and the crisis is dire
body is engulfed in eruptive fire.

they grip quite strong before they bite
crawl on from left catch you from right
not a fair deal was it deserved to be earned
thrown in the fire thousand times burned
they spread everywhere trees and clothesline
upon this earth they're livid landmine.

fear them you might curse them abhor
can't stop them they're mighty predator
one small sting is sparks of whiplash
leaving on skin swollen red rash
the more you scratch the more leaps the flame
be wary of these creatures fire ant by name.
Debra A Baugh Jan 2013
I met him at an audition; he kept staring at me,
I walked over introduced myself; he said he's
a musician, told him I could help with is dickion
and he whispered; I want to sip the fluency of your
elegance, in which, I smiled all giddy inside; pulled
him close and said are you wanting to luxuriate in
lips pout, he said; yes and his eyes engraved me
in his soul

he stepped back; licked my lips and flushed,
embraced love's fidgeting, bestirred in gasped
hunger he held me like a lover in a dream;
clinging to the edge of silent beggary's urgency,
I touched his heat, knew immediately I wanted
him pendulating above femininities heat

so, I coaxed him with an aubade; whispering moist
in want; his euphony he'd written upon parchment
of my heart, without thought I wanted to give in to
masculinities desire to taste and sip as he pleased

but, I held him off for awhile wanting to get to know
more of him, not wanting just a physical allurement,
eyeing him in my mind to take in the scope of his
aura; weeks passed before I would allow him to do
more than just kiss me, the physical attraction was
too strong to wait for entanglements pleasure, the
want to linger in the delicacy of us; on one of those
misty balmy still of night's; I just grasped at passion's
threshold; to drown in our muted moans

as he'd explore pout of silken lips; tasting me
as I'd taste him we savored each other's hunger
taking our time, enjoying each nook and cranny of
him and I, tongue traced my trembles from its
eruptive point between wet thighs; I  had to flip our
script so, I could taste his milky spillage as well; like
fingerprints upon thigh, we glided in out, back and
front of our hungered want of one another; sighing
in unison laying paused and breathless, our rhythm
leaves us arched in each other's curve, tasting;
losing control

frenzied, breathless in softness of sigh's every
stroke of ecstasy, lost in the rapture of love; each
kiss from head to toe told a story of love lust and
hunger, hopefully for eternity; as the days grew long
and nights got shorter, we couldn't do without one
another; one day out of the blue he popped the
question and without a doubt I said; yes!
just a short story for a contest...
The Earth is the prime
source of love
living in mystery
giving seeds
planted,
       water transforming all
     the bitterness to blessed
            purification, your spiritual
Wings as Sun flying around
  in this cosmic delight
    whispering, singing along
       Subtle overwhelming
                   Harmony, droning
     in tune with Galactic
       core ~ my heart is
       near your heart
     as the Moon
   orbits The Great
Mother, Grand
Eruptive Sky Father's
Heavenly Energy
       creates in creatures
     most sacred wish to bow to
    Ultimate beauty, submerged
   into this wondrous colorful world,
      into the Eternal Waves of Subtlety
         ...Most Honest Divination...

     Life may seem hard
   For the honest women and men;
      But ... It is... It is mere An Illusion ...
       That Scoundrels and Creeps don't have  
       Each ~A beautiful Star ~ Twinkling for them
           And for the World ~ As your Light shines

            *Upon the ones you deeply Love
~~~~~~~~~~
Imagined by
Impeccable Space
Poetic beauty and Love
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J65GxJ2v9Wg
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In between slumber and wakefulness
lies a place that surrounds us
It seeps into your skin and pours out eruptive
constructive
changing everything in it's path
Burning and firing the vessel from within
Heat rising til the sweat drips over sticky
clammy
steamed up skin

Released when day breaks  

Cooling in Sun rays
Fed by a ceaseless downpour
The river was in eruptive spate
The dam they said can’t take anymore
It must be opened the lock gate.
Open the lock gate and save the dam
Before it crumbles by the mighty force
But what of them on the riverside *******
For them lies what recourse?
The dam can come down any moment
As the raging waters fast mount
What about the millions on it spent
The loss would be immense without count.
But then for saving it if the river is let free
The settlements on its sides would go
Unleashed waters would cause misery
Villages would be washed away with the flow.
What happens in the end you guessed it right
The lock gate was opened to save the dam
Surely more than the poor villagers’ plight
The dam had to be saved *******.
Deana Luna Feb 2016
you are a haunted house
windows inviting and dark
mysterious as you liken yourself to be
a bubbling toil and trouble
a mistaken spell
volcanic and eruptive
i wake up sweaty from your ghosts
Jo Apr 2014
Horrified by my reflection:
A cynical, disillusioned idealist

Horrified,
Indifferent

You were a
Silly boy
Spouting nonsense of hope and humanity

Silly Boy
Your sun-kissed caramel eyes cannot move me
I am stone
Your goofy grin cannot give me hope
I am empty

Your eruptive, childish laugh will not change me
Stunned
It echoes through my being,
Infectious
This smile is easy

Chocolate brown orbs meet honey-hued ones
Hopelessness meets hope
Tarnished meets pure

Silly Boy
Your better tomorrow doesn't seem so "silly" anymore

For, if the world has produced such beauty in you
Surely, it cannot be so bad
For, if there exists a beauty that can melt this frozen heart,
Surely, there must be hope
Gosh, I wrote this ages ago (2010). This boy meant a lot to me and he was so special. To this day, I have never been able to find someone with even remotely as beautiful soul as his.
Eryri Sep 2019
The Barista did warn me,
But my home brewed hubris
Really blew up in my face
When my boiling hot porridge
Eruptively boiled all over the place.
afteryourimbaud Feb 2017
I confront myself every night
struggling to make ends meet
wiped the dust off my thorny feet
but the moment I indulge
in the confusing exchange
the suffocating, the suffering
betray the ever-present inkling.

I dreamt of my freedom
soaring high
from the eruptive Damascus
with the destructive Andronicus
to the mighty nebula and burst
visible in the night sky
horrible to your naked eyes
and I knew if it happens,
my time, my fate
would end and I
could comprehend.

Release me
from this
terrifying temple
prosecuting throne
horrifying reefs
tormenting prison.

Mama shall burn me
tonight,
out of everyone’s sight.
In between slumber and wakefulness
lies a place that surrounds us
It seeps into your skin and pours out eruptive
constructive
changing everything in it's path
Burning and firing the vessel from within
Heat rising til the sweat drips over sticky
clammy
steamed up skin

Released when day breaks  

Cooling in Sun rays
SassyJ Mar 2019
As the music tantalises
something tricks the wick of my mind
through the pattern of the eruptive wind
besides the reeds of the adventure
in the swampy zones where I find the way
hiding the inner soul as peace partakes

As the sunshine gazes
the outer lights seems a hundred years
unreachable yet so lovely and visible
there is a pinch of it that never disappears
and it tears all the skin to the kins of bones
depths with the unpenetratable glass

The loneliness is so tasteful
away from any eventful unsteadiness
it scratches the ledge of the window sill
hoping to leap and fly to it’s freedom
and it’s shattered state is a sacrifice
unable to find it’s way home
Haddie Brenner Aug 2016
Condensed part II

Condense the want in drops of fault,
Mix with water and some salt.
Stir to make the want eruptive,
Fold yourself and lie adductive.
Harry Roberts Sep 2020
One wide split right through the middle
Frightening fighting while I stay hidden
A war between reality and feelings
The path my feelings follow aren't always appealing.

I've invested my energies in endeavours proven destructive
Fed the essence of my aura into a river that's been occluded
All the sentiment sediment with the pressure becomes eruptive
Seems like the fallacy inside me had always been corrupted.

Imagination and my devastation have I always been deluded
Dichotomy so clear yet the opposing parts keep feuding
They create a perfect storm as if these factors colluded
Adding to the mounting anxiety making matters more confusing.
Harry Roberts
Dylan Mcconnell Jan 2019
Dear dad, I love you
I love the love in your laugh
Your awesome autograph
Your perfect paraph
That chafed calf

Dear dad, I hate you
Your tactless tone
I should’ve known
That you would’ve thrown the stone
You’re like a clone
A drone
A stone

Dear dad, you’re complex
Blaming adolescent audrey
Going on a shrieking spree
Then to give me a blackberry
You’re like a broken birdie
A galaxy
My own personal genie

Dear dad, you left me
You left your baby girl
I’m not that baby girl
I’m a boy, one who has curls
Who sings in swirls

Dear dad, why her?
Why your eruptive ex?
She signs your corrosive checks
You’re just as complex

Dear dad, goodbye
I no longer believe in the high
We will never unify
You’re sly
Shy
A bad guy
Ripping my heart open
in dark surgery, as earth
palpitates on eruptive scale,
gushing out blood from the heart.

See the surgeons appareled in death
aprons
See the air suffocating the earth in gory stings
See the priests offering sacrilegious
sacrifices
See unholy smoke devouring the glorious sky.

Tell truth to stay on the holy mountain, lest she stained by the hands of surgeons operating my
heart at dawn.

Tell the predators that my victory
is eternal as my life soars above
death and its shadow!
Jennifer McCurry Jan 2021
Silhouette

You breathe through the air. Its jacket fits snugly. Its jacket is pale grey blue, and gripping.

It feels, a Forrest surrounds you. The blackening etch of your nature against cold tile like elephant ivory.

The ink seeps into the spread of age. It is blue dark. The picture blurs.

The only sound has been captured within the trumpet. The brass bulges, and begins to fracture.

What escapes; weeping. A low moan and the gurgle of a man drowning. Slowly.
His toes pointed downwards.

To the bottom like a dart. The silhouette of a body freeing itself of the hangman’s noosed.

Until it fins itself violently to the left, an eruptive detour created with the force of a whales tale. If only its lungs to breathe.

And free yourself of this jacket. Of its sterile color and similar embrace.
Stephen S Feb 2019
I feel the fire against my skin,
the embers dance against the ashes.
Brilliant pyres of light stream down,
In eruptive, blazing flashes.

The heat wraps me up, so intense,
in the middle of this furnace.
I feel a strong and primal fury,
thrashing at my epidermis.

You may call me an unstable fool,
but there are secrets I have learned.
That's why I'm here, amidst the flames,
with no fear of being burned.
Ryan Apr 2021
hiking boots brought
green hills climbed
difficult journey, but
only good times

at the top,
barter is offered
paper for grass
is instantly passed

going continues, unknowingly
climbing on air

disruptive, eruptive volcano
freezes the mind
perils of quicksand
prospects of return

lava subsides, turning
freeze to flight

in the distance
a higher peak
is obliviously avoided

dazed and confused,
the hiking man
rendered penniless again
literally about the stock market
Jeff Claycombe Aug 2023
A mountain shadow reveals the subtle
personality hidden at midday
gently sculpted or roughly chiseled
a surprisingly standard life flow
eruptive growth
obstinate longevity clinging to balance
that's comfortable and doomed
to be whisked away as dust
illuminous and enlivened plants
secretly glean with the moons arrival
bundled energy ripens after years
shooting forth in a display
congratulated by the hummingbirds
skittering legs dart
for the nearest available safety
but their patience betrays them
as our eyes could never pinpoint
a flawless design
an orderly world gives way
to random angles
a method unknown to all others
the thirst is timeless
and ready for satiation
whenever the skies oblige
MARK RIORDAN Apr 2020
THE AMERICAN ACTIVISTS ARE FANATICAL
STUPID AND UNCONTROLLABLE AND DESTRUCTIVE
PRESIDENT TRUMP HAS IGNITED THIS FURY
IF NOT CONTROLLED IT WILL BE ERUPTIVE


CANT THESE PEOPLE UNDERSTAND THE
VIRUS IS KILLING THEIR FELLOW CITIZENS
WITH 2000 AMERICANS DYING EACH DAY
JUST FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS WITHOUT CRITICISM


THIS VIRUS WILL SLOWLY SWEEP ACROSS AMERICA IF PEOPLE DON'T FOLLOW HEALTH INSTRUCTIONS IT CREEPS IN WHEN YOU ARE NOT EXPECTING IT AND WITHOUT NOTICE. PLEASE JUST FOLLOW HEALTH GUIDELINES

mark riordan poetic avenger facebook

trump2020007  you tube
please follow health instructions it is better to be alive at home rather outside free and dead
Travis Green May 2021
Your oil-slick black eyes
Swim so sensually in my mind
So meaningfully expressive
A poetically thrilled masterpiece
Gushing with artful emotions
Feel me with your eruptive diction
Notorious nonfiction, dancing rhythms
Glowing in moon-sparked nights
I dream of your velvet black eyes
And I rise in the heightened flames
With intriguing intensity
I sing with the supreme stars
Breathe in your lifetime
Live in your spotlight
Traveling to undiscovered wonders

— The End —