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Examining the accuracy.
Exploring the brightness.
Hunting for certainty.
Inquiring the directness.
Inspecting the lucidity.
Investigating the precision.
Pursuing purity.
On a quest for simplicity.
Researching transparency.
Chasing articulateness.
Frisking comprehensibility.
Going over conspicuousness.
Inquesting a definition.
Rummaging for distinctness.
Scrutinizing the evidence.
Shaking down the exactitude.
On an expedition for explicitness.
Working the legs towards intelligibility.
A perquisition for legibility.
A wild-goose chase for limpidity.
A witch hunt for obviousness.
Interrogating openness.
Probing the palpability.
Prosecuting the penetrability.
Racing perceptibility.
Raiding perspicuity.
Coursing the plainness.
Following the prominence.
Hounding the salience.
Meddling in the tangibility.
Prying into the unambiguity.
Reconnaissance in the cognizability.
Seeking decipherability.
Snooping for explicability.
Sporting limpidness.
On a steeplechase for manifestness.
Studying the overness.
Tracing unmistakability.
i sigh a little
i fly a little

this is the one! - this is the thing!
                                    "when do you want to pull over?"
                                                                           "right now"

It's christmas, mail is the contract -

The gig is off,
Highway 40 to highway 1,
I sleep until the roadway becomes an exit because dreams excite me more -
because of the ****** and explicitness.
Commercials sound through out the house, televisions left on like a slow memory
Antares Cliff Dec 2016
In the end, her own storm went against her
leaving her thrashing
eyes burning white hot
A flickering fire,but faster
moving with desperation
her eyes alight, she thrashed
as the hurricane in her mind
screeched, screamed and blared
a single thought
I must make art.

Her mind, too vast
Her horizons extending to no end
her thoughts, her words
her dreams, her fears
at the slightest stir
became a storm

She dared to attempt
to capture her storm
to the blank canvas
that even at the end
remained blank

the most she could do
was try to capture the colours
in the right shade
but she couldn't let her mind expand into the paper
for her soul had taken over
but her heart kept to itself
saving the best for last

But her burning goal
remained the same

Her mind- a raging Hurricane
Her soul- an everlasting darkness
Her Heart- a flickering flame
But in her glass body
she held it in
till she fell in shards

together they leapt and thrashed
while she perfected the colours of her storm
only to repeat them
as she failed to express
the explicitness of what she contained

In the end, it was her own storm that went against her
in the end, her soul was too vast to be contained
In the end, her her heart was too hot to keep contained

In the end, her soul was too dark to be contained
in the glass body

she ran to the rain
and let out her soul
and let out her heart
and let out her mind
and laughed wickedly

the storm worsened
the trees burned
and the light didn't shine,
for a long time

but she laughed and laughed
till her shards fell
at her
nonexistent feet.

In the end
her art remained
a blank canvas
next to
a perfect palette.
Farah Taskin Sep 2021
I'm a wayward wayfarer
People see my explicitness
My connotations
remain
obscure.
Seher Seven Nov 2015
I will just keep writing
as it opens a door for sharing.
the hearts wanting, the minds
constant watch. protecting the heart song.
she's too loud,

explode forced air, that stare
the contact within.
she bares the scalp,
get some circulation up there.
prepare for the next round.
the pour down,
fulfillment found. the cups abundance

minds found, ground covered
though miles abound.
my hearts call loud, and the times
are being seen through ancient eyes.
the lies all fall apart as One is realized.
sacrificed, white flag flying type. submittal
to my self.
trust my sight, it stretches the net
and captures just outside the entangled mess.
like fishing the sea
trying to capture those pieces of me,
as they flow out

and infect.

and if the best of me wasn't what I give,
if I didn't need to feel this to live,
I would sulk within and wish my self home.
since young these days have been confusing
always right outside the embrace of love.

experience is the basic instant
yet we are not it.
mine have been hell bent on pressing intention.
like theres just no other way to it.
the explicitness of my days, of my pain.
I AM just outperformed it.
so basic, and my pain only prepared me
for it. Oh I give thanks to bear witness.

to the darkness, and the light it births
religious.
Janiya Dec 2017
Is it sad how I’ve only kissed three people in my life?
And expect to make love on the first time with a lover instead of casually *******
I’m nothing
My *** life is made of white dove
The innocence replaces the explicitness in my seductive walk
I strut
****
I’m shut
I hope to be something
Have something that’s out of touch
But I’m too smart
I’m too cautious
I’m too focused
I just wanna let go for a while
Lose my style maybe even smile when I reach my peaks on mountains and
Resemble fountains
And squeeze hands while on a bike ride
Taste the citrus in a ruby fruit jungle
I’ve always liked limes more than lemons
Dark chocolate more than milk
Wine over syrup
Let’s go out for a snack asometime
Maybe an aphrodisiac
Slack on my work a little
Work my hips a little
Be a little more than just a good girl

I got bright eyes
And I still like big lollipops
I still like sweet things
And show of my chest with spaghetti strap tank tops
And sometimes I get tempted from holding hands and whispers
I shiver
Quiver
Stutter
Like Betty Boop
My eyes flutter
These tiny climaxes cluster until my chocolate cheeks luster
In a shade similar to your car
The red one you can see in the lights from far
but I could never step inside
I need a ride
We should hide
But you can’t even scream my name to my window or play WET DREAMS
To my window from your radio cause you’re too afraid who would look out
Remember I’m a good girl
Pericles exposes: "Content of enchantment I receive your gift, arts, letters where you have to visit a sacred replied that I have made here in the Empyrium, here the Republic will boast of ancient theaters by the hand of Phidias that you will have entrusted to you. Our north has been traced in this replica of the Acropolis or Parthenon, which awaits us in the long chain of Colargos. Behold, I have resumed the descendants that live behind the lion's hooks, and of your name Strategoi whom I have acclaimed to see you perceive you more than silence from those who never knew of your prowess, and your incidence of Gaugamela and Delphi, you must to know that huge Lepidoptera brought me your messages every day of unknown liturgy that I only expected after your investiture, and then to be received here together with Themistocles, that the vulnerabilities would never revert to the disadvantage of Greece because the safeguard of interest is to beat up our surrounded land, not land and sea; but of famous Hoplites who are the ones who have contained the edges of each border, but not of the Areopagus where I had to see you in your Ekklesia or assembly and classicism insult that succumbed with the interference of the Achaemenides. Nothing will I dare to be equal to when redoing or undoing what memory only has to stick to my science, but what do my hands think more than the same thing I did or shouldn't have done...? We are guarantors of our solace and mendicant stay here where you have been privileged to be brought by your Mashiach, and by me for all the declined attempts or opposite that you see in the Sun with his wealth; and all that we have been able to recover from its insignificant parts of those fleeting flashes of democracy, in the Micro Empyrean I have also duplicated the marble that does not compare to Oenidea in the Gulf of Corinth, or of resolved ideas to face in the Peloponnese. There I could see that I could never observe you if someone had recruited you because he had no advice or formats of your existence to bring you. Your storms were already propelling you over the skies of Greece, where there was never time and space that was denied to you, but who belongs to the chroniclers who did not know you until you propelled your Parapsychologies with your Corinthian helmet, and the pompous Light that expanded when they cut the flanks of the world with your Xiphos. What incompatibilities could be added to this old discernment, by tomorrow you will be back on Patmos, and I could clear you from a ministerial or skillful congressional decree to highlight the contentious bodies that want to join all of Greece, with more life than they have fallen and take advantage of its heritage. Perchance a phoro or tax, which relieves the girdling of a mandate that runs with the same vigor of your steed to take it to its bare sender.

The sacred wars have given you the approval that is sensed in the oracles of the world, more than the edicts of a sporadic Apocalypse that will be reversed in the Kassotides. And that the oracles will be invisible particles that file and distill what tends to extinguish a conservative policy and maintenance of the kingdom that survives here in the empyrean. Namely and officially, all the depths of our ocean will never be able to cover up what the owners of their appearance or betrayal will merit to cower by hitting each other's elbows. My fleet will have great limits to take beyond the imaginable with your garments and virtues, as Sóter or Strategoi that vindicates the self-revelation of crushing with politics an alliance that is managed by a will governed by the real sense of Will spread further afield than any personal interest. At the bottom of the treasury, you will find an Acropolis with its priestess canephora and basket full of delicacies, subordinated to a treasury that pours on all the roofs of Greece the profits that will spread everywhere to your new abode, far from the antagonistic factions that, although they show a toast at sunset with your glasses full of must from your servant Pericles. I am and will be a witness that I will deny or that nothing and no one can deny you, because you are part of Hellas, where it's packed rattles roar that will bring bleating and screams of Prometheus, due to such immensity of a Greece that also abounds in the Divine Heaven.
Stay away from Hetaira and Aspasia, otherwise, they could unseat you from your purged being, which can confuse hunger with the icy frenzy of your human impulses, more than the Lacedaemonian wielders who fight for your skinned serge, for new accounts to surrender to otherness with Alcibiades if you find yourself near any wasteland here in the Empyrean. Already the fertilized land of Demeter is proof of a slip of flower clusters that have become encysted in Persephone's locks, and that it is already Equinox! The winds are strongest at more than seventy centimeters from the sheaf that brushes your hands, they are more ferocious if it is that the skies that fall before your eyes when they are more dependent on land, which has an intractable dry well of fewer than seventy centimeters…!

I will donate the Parthenon to you, the harvest and the gracious gesture of it will not tire of your determination to surrender to its perfection so that it may be optimized. On the present day of 323 B.C. C. the ashes of Alexander the Great of Macedonia fall into our hands, and Vernarth his commander, together with my fleets of thousands and thousands of Syntagmas, with the allegory of Camels and cowbells, will take your sheep together to your Kafersesuh or manger that only has a promiscuous thirst for brave odors of piety, if it is from the plausible future to write everything that I have told you today of the Duoverse on a puny Ostracon, writing your obsequies of what I will have to exile to the border of the sooty Angels so they don't have to intimidate you. All the lands belong to you and plead for your guardians, who in the hour of your departure have fled farther from the entangled leaders. Today I have addressed, and I have harangued you, leaving to your possession my own pecuniary, and duty of Hegemon that I would leave no one else from the Kathartyrium, and pecuniary so that they promote you with my purging bordering on your celebrity by enlightening me in the Stars of Athens "

At the culmination of the course, when he let go of the Mashiach's hand, Vernarth dropped from a strong and fast scene of Othónes or screens, which made him fall to a vacant farmhouse called amphiprostyles; with porticoes and snowy columns that made him green at his feet and above all his will that was preparing for the Opistho that precisely protected his Energeia of rest, which was his great treasure that will carry him through all the ages, times, spaces and galaxies of the which with his gnosis could accumulate it from the God of all who goes more to the other side of the divinity, who can be contained in a mural in which the entire universe goes to embed itself of all physical and material forms, here is the philosophy of a Universal man that appeared with great similarity to the scattered spaces of Parapsychology instilled by the conspicuous Parerga and Paralipomena; of which he vindicates his versar by saying that intelligence is not capable of monopolizing more than the ego itself that cannot stand itself, for this reason that in his collection on the shelf of this space he places it next to the hybrid booklet of Messolonghi's Koumeterium, on this versed metaphysics here not degraded of the minimum parts, adorning them with the largest microparticles of what is made up in murky and intermittent beats of the unviable of the soul, and etheric body that would now sustain it. The reason for these inclusions were supplements, and quilts that will be put in the universe to rest with this work. The soul of this mission would be read by the most daring professor decipherer…, The Messiah! that lay on the slopes of the Talamí river, or paths of leaves through this river of leaves that carried all the parchments of books from the creative world, of which these will be randomly in the ascending areas that traveled on this selected *****, and later they will be read by the Messiah and Vernarth. The generalization of this celestial philosophy was summarized in booklets that were growing, whose reality surpassed the unreal, making it the most evident stratum of a posthumous theory, and discernment that promotes the paths of the Opistodomos of the Talami universe, and its leaves that bring riches of all the literary works, architectural musicals and all art that is enrolled in the science of its unmistakable reality with the same presence of all the worshipers of Liberty from where its primary sanctified origin is born, more than any treaty of a work that should go through all the static of the world being able to do what they deserve by having in their hands the same book Schopenhauer's Parerga that sustains the entire world, and Vernarth that maintains the Universe of fusion called Duoverse with the exclaimed doctrine breaking the inertia and static of what reality becomes before your Being, of what is present is of any dimension of the body and its existential relativity. Of all that it cogitates or not, it could be individualized and alternate with the freedom that the object thinks by itself. In this evanescent instant, the aerial masses of the internal warm air of the Iridescent Nimbus addressed the absorption of the sapphic limit of the Opistodomos, in such a way that the words could have verses that could be long and short as a single in the womb of everything created..., The universe has been dismantled on its own implied, however, it folds…! That from the remains of your soul wounded in occasional disasters revives because what you saw is the light of heaven. In this way, the sapphic element swirled above everything that was not holistic, which was only going to collapse on the ground of ignorance that was beginning to rebuild itself. The obvious explicitness made all the beauty in the world fleeting and ephemeral, but Vernarth recomposed it with the seeds of the Talami leaves, and the garrulousness of the tributary of flax leaves and pasted leaves of wisdom that ran through the nominal and famous matte, wide and short.
Ékthesi Pericles
JaxSpade Sep 2018
It was a cold burn
Piercing through flesh
The temperature shivered
With cold breaths

It was an aberration
Of happenstance
A bullet abject abstruse
Yet adamant

The harrowing set
Was a scene set furtive
Said grandiloquent

It was a smoking gun
From a hypochondriac
Speaking exorbitant words
In hopes to exonerate
Explicitness flagrant

In a sanctuary city

Facilitating fait accompli
A Blase' bureaucracy
Brusque and dernier cri

It was a deleterious empirical
Fight for a miracle

Shown as a harbinger

With all disregard
Hoist with one's own petard
Travis Green Dec 2021
Your stellarly made frame has me so enamored
I am forever under your spell
Your masterpiece has me swirling
In an electric, vibrant, and undying fire
Bound to your passion
Feeling your silky delicious tongue
On my pleasingly enchanting lips
Your fingers like a scarlet, gorgeous paintbrush
Sliding up and down my soft, loving arms
Creating a current of emerging rapture
As I explore your immersiveness

Your masculineness titillates
My plump, velvety *******
Your sexiness streams through my creative canvas
Your hands glide down my thighs and legs
My inner walls are wet, saturated with dreamy, prolific explicitness
Your deep stroke has me drifting
In the brilliancy of your liquid libidinous desires
My kingdom is asunder
I am caught in your stunning and continuous thunder

I am vulnerable; I am perspiring
Your pulling power has devoured me
Your mouth is on my *******
Your eyes are focused on conquering my body and soul
I am moaning deeply and dramatically
You are exploring me more
Embracing the incredible delights of my flesh
Mesmerizing my convulsed core

You are a monumental museum of ruggedness
That holds me in the arms of your attractive majesty
Digging your fingernails in my back
Leaving hot, vivid marks
So intoxicated by your sensuous
And exhilarating fragrance
Your deep, magnetic eyes are an immense inspiration
To my foundation, I find invaluable treasures inside you
With the smell unbelievably passionate
And heart-pounding *** inside my nose
I lean back into the hot and misty air
To relish the unsurpassed magic
The way my body feels in your lecherous land
Travis Green May 2020
He was **** romance
expressing delicious richness
in my inner existence
consuming the slick consonants
in my skin as I lingered
in his masculine explicitness

I loved his luxuriant kisses
his blissful language
an imaginary palace
of bedroom loving
artfully wild and exciting
controlling my body
as I burned in his flame
yearning for his tasteful words
of juicy jams flow though me
devouring every surface
of my fervid physique

— The End —