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What might the heights of the minds eyes see while the spirit is in motion of the purest emotion of intent and expression of love?


Is it such a state where false has awards and evening gowns picked out for the awards show?

Is it so fake that one might find it difficult to understand real from false?

Or might the fact that when a human being can truly  walk the line of life with grace and demanding ******* while gently caressing the absolutely overwhelming truth that love has ravaged the soul ,

Ravaged this soul,

*****, held, ravaged, run through, righted and scorned in the deepest of waters a soul has yet to express to the world for two thousand years, and all while  the captive ....... Soul,         is critiqued on the devastation wrot in such completeness that is is even to this day savoured as a prized  fetish even unto the sad would self.

Dare I ask simple a question of wondering curious eyes of windowed souls to cast a view into the dew of the greatness of being of truth and grace while respecting the very heart from which such torture pours from?

dare a truth be asked that such a human being be of a dignity in company with the child timid in him self torn, dashed , bruised, named and bolder than the soul that resides in you?

Dare a tasked truth be ever revealed of contemptuous  acts of ***** souls and privacy of ones tiny castles in the  oh so damaged and bitter sands. Of the wombs of mind that we all venture to frontier the very limit of the souls endurance, prestige while being undignified by the raw violence of the act of continued ****, or is a dared truth to harsh a fact for timidness of my self to have swallowed whole as the soul of mine self and mine eyes and mine teeth from which the vengeance did pour a pounding to seek, all to be driving back by the broken and horrorably disfigured child of me that many find more womanly.   For this Ugly Boy of me, this sad sot silly and ***** smaller to the vastness of the fridgidness of ******* through lies and manipulations while taking in the raw ******* of the common God's child , virus this not what we all are the now newly in question not so rarely ***** and sold like ****** in a new church for the dastardly and bastarded ******* that we have come to call complacency of decency?  

Any, how foolish, yes my dear friend , you are indeed a wiser worrier  wafareing wondering wizard of vast skills and frightful  ways and means to tame the beast of such hateful things , so costic as to reach deep into them and quiver their tiny tethers and frail feathers all a mockingly  to the tones and notes left after we vacated the dead crypts of self deprivation and hate as we all found the truth of the emotion as it poured through us when realizing this damaged, torn and frightened child , a man holding the depth of winter killing fields at bay, a man kindly swaying the stars to play a tune so as to grace all who broke his heart a stay of pain for each and every attempted and timidly bold and brazen sway and slanted ****** love or raw truth and powerful motions from which we all find the fancy to ****** the  tool as the goofiest  **** **** as hell fool we all choose to allowed the absolute grace and magesty to ******* Rule our Hearts for even just a fraction of a moment in this prayer of endless time, yet hold with the dared scary and walking naked and alone into the lions den while the wolfs and beasts all gathered their finest clothes, weapons and gold, silver, trinkites and shiny of the shiniest of the things they boldly and brashly slash all with as to command the fear to reside in the human spirit.

As this silly little hill Billy with a **** nice *** *****, were wolf feet and all called out to the proudest and loudest of the tiny little spouts and softly said " what is all you foolish fuss about?"
"Have you lost you most precious toys, only to find victim the Dickson of my sorry and sad state of dieing from the oath and lashing of what you helped  rip from what can only be many peoples and communities and even many families?"

Dare a truth to truth this dare my dearest cud of a bear for a true beast of welcome verosity I be all the while giggling and prancing all about like a happy *** skipping fairy, and of this I most truly rather be for don't you know? , did no one tell you the news?  The horror is scaring but the truth is so amazing, turns out scar gardens are the softest things God has ever created, scar gardens are the hardest element that break far stronger , bold creatures of far fasters tested , cleeted, bust a mother up than most man has ever know to exist.
Scar gardens are the very  spouts from which the truth and grace of the living love of God pours fourth into this majestic ******, animal ,spiritual ,sacred, holy and magnificent place , a place that the very bashing of the flowers that dance you delight even in the pity, plight, laughter , and slight  has done nothing but cast us all from it loving embrace, yet, dear cub of a Billy bad *** nub of a cubbed couger in the final leaps to catch this timid and playful prey of me that you so think you will devour you see,  we, the ones whom truly felt and opened and dare that **** scary *** chance to dance with this devil in the pale moon light have found that they no longer must live in fright, that this very garden is theirs and none to own but to flourish and grow, thrive if you must, but lest get nasty for a real minute, animal to animal ,it ma thrive , sure but it will **** , love ,fight, rise , Smit , right the wrongs that have tortured us far to ******* long and in that moment of exstacy the human race may just finally realize ***, love, caring, kindness and truth of self are the face of God starting through your eyes experiencing all f his loving songs creations and getting ******* goose bumps and he'll yes this Billy Jack goofy *** bad  kat all **** knuckled with bad habits and a lust for loving full ******* spectrum and a lesbian trapped in this fugly *** mans body all crazy *** triple run *** marks the spot moon shine devil of mine were wolf feet and all does truth and whole love the Real Girl and is ,,,,, and most mother ******* who are real and real down with the truth that God is love and loves even your silly but as God loves mine silly *** and the rest of this star studded cast of human **** ups simply attempting to pass and go the **** home at the end of the school bell.


HUA,    I do love the Real artist  you speak of, she knows it, and may just know that I know she is not the one laying **** the silly hill Billy with a rather bad *** wi,,,,,,,, um sorry.     Where were we. Oh yes. Um. Only those who care to let go and allow the truest of flows and are true to self and the love that one finds in the being of anothers breath, thoughts , actions , decisions, and mistakes and graces to right ones self after horrors that tear us and embarrass us, these know the truth ,and my dear friend i love you too, but not like the love i expressed to you in hopes you to feel the love i share to her with out pushing it on her, so that what is rightfully hers to reject or except i gave it all away to all even those whom used it to fuel hate in mine own shape , form and name.  And i have done all of this and a dillion years of pouring stars into the hearts of that goofy *** girl by way of dancing crying and **** it dieing through the very core of you,  yes i got you high, horney, got you off, many times , i gave you memories of sparks you know, i gave you worlds of wonder and ways to flurish and grow, i gave you what you , well many of you , did not even deserve for it was truy meant to be for her, but i felt that the most good it could do and the best love i could show her is i can love all of you and even rock hear heart all the very same ways i moved you , and not loose one silly little drop of the tears in her pain, yet sip them and drip them into her so she may choose to live again, as she has done for me.....do you now see? For I C C I said this goofy eyed going man who has done all this in his true and real names,  For I Love You So.


And didn't even eat my wheaties wink , smile I a not mad at ya, just being me, and some times we all have a tax bit of  werewolfand badger **** in us , sorry to offend, smile in the end, we all just might be ,,,,, sort f friends..
#moon
Cartwright Mar 2010
I Adore you , I Love the way You speak,
The way you move, I Love to Love Ya.
Through Hellacious events and even moody times.
I love you more in every way. So baby bring it all to me.
I will always Love you til Death do us part and in
sickness and health we shall have our Love as well as Wealth.
Death as well as Poverty,
as I wish upon a star for all to go
Well and superb as the shooting star never stops
I wont ever stop Lovin you
cause you are so hot stick sweet from your head down to you feet.
So pour some sugar on me,
but not to deep for to got as far down
WELL we gotta savour that taste of Love and passion,
The sweetness of truth on the tongue
of passion and the  massage of Exstacy  
within Your arms Flowin down your body as we
intertwine ourselves in a
Portal of seduction which Leads to a
Reproduction of the Lovelyness
that is My Immortal Beloved to Her
King on ancient wings of worldly power
will Give all my Love to you drastically
wanting to Dine on your Platter Like
Romeo and Julliets Hot ***.
Not only to make you wet but as
well to make you mine until death
and beyond in Lovers Lane.
Deaths will not touch our
Coiled embrace as we set
on into the sun were
Earth Hits Wind and Starts to caresse
The Fire which is this passion for
Life Long with You no matter how old
and decrepped we get,
Our passion for each other is left
to be said that A Heart is a House for Love,
and while we ride together to
everlasting Life Exstacy takes a
hold of us just like The key to my
Ever loving Heart to My Empress as
well as my Immortal Daimond in the Ruff,
so I will take one jump ahead of that
line and Show you a whole new world
as we show sweet love face down ***
up in the air toggling my juicy energies
that call out for your sweetness Essence of ******.
so I ask Are you Ready For Me My Immortal,
My Rib, My Everything,
Under this sweet moon we call Life ;
We careese every minute as its our
Last so Scream as Loud as you want
in that pillow as I release My Anocanda
within your cave to explore all the
wonders of My Immortal Goddess....
                             So Are You Ready??
Christopher Nathaniel Cartwright
Copyright © 1983-Present
Amelia Jo Anne Nov 2013
I am just this girl sitting recovering after walking in a store where I had to use my passport and looked like a teenage ******* with my sunglasses and father's coat. my eyes were red because of allergies and I cried a little on the walk up and, well, I was high; "shook like a ****** at a wienie roast" as my dad always said. I was standing there and forgot what brand of cigarettes I wanted when I had to repeat myself (I stutter when I'm nervous); I thought I could get away with it if I said 'I just started a new medication' and get the assurance from a cashier whose face I recognized. just someone to give me a boost.

then I went outside to a bench on the side of the building. the traffic and parking lot were in the way, but the clouds and birds around everywhere were brilliant against the bright sky, the trees were magnificent and striking, the sunshine was on my face; I can do this. I am a Tree, reaching lower then growing higher: and I am Magnificent.

The walk before was nauseatic cuz the meds make me dizzy and vomity and of course, I was high. I wear sunglasses to distance me from the people I'm about to see, from all these people that I'm scared of. the wind is bitter and cold, I'm nervous and shaky. I haven't been able to stop playing scenarios out in my head that panic me, a reaction to my active travelling anxiety and the stress of keeping up a conversation with a soft as oatmeal woman who asks me personal questions and is very pleasant to talk to, though kind of doughy.

--my dad came into my room one night. I was having a minor meltdown coming down from the Night of Hate the previous night where I pulled all my eyelashes out and I pulled my hair and I chewed my cheeks apparently, grit my teeth apparently, hit myself hard and hateful. My dad came in to talk to me and I asked him when I knew I should go to a hospital. I cried and I'm honest that I still don't want to be Here, that life is still unbearably grating. I'm just letting it happen I do what I feel like doing to keep me up. I don't tell him that I choked myself with sweater strings a week ago on the living room couch while my spirit mother was in the other room and all the precious ones down the hall asleep. dad sits down on the bed and admits he's "never dealt with this side of things" and rubbed my back while I sobbed. when I calmed down and I was finally wiping the tears away, cleaned up and I was mostly able to breathe again, he got an idea that comes from the most loving heart and his quirky way of cheering me up. when I was a Trouble Child, my dad would take me out and do something with me. just talked to me, paid attention, joked, laughed: he always says when he's like this he always says "I know I can make you laugh" and usually does. so he looked at me that night and said "I know of something to make you smile; a pill that makes you smile Instantly!" I choked, sunshine smile burst and still wiping tears, 'exstacy?' and received my favorite dad laugh, the one when he really finds something perfect. The one I got when E stepped on the coffee I'd accidentally spilled in the hallway, and she said with a voice so full of disgust that I bent over, tears rolling, hands on knees, laughed til it hurt "I stepped on ****". he recovers from the e-joke says "That was quick!" in a voice that loved it. The opinion that deeply approves (when most times he is disappointed, interrupts me, tells me I'm wrong, more like mum than he'll ever see) lifts me up a little: gratification soul--

I sit on the bench and smoke with shaky hands and sunglasses giving me space, people looking at me (iknowthey'relookingatmeiknowitiknowit); I eat two sandwiches. the prescription makes me tremble shake queasy nauseous, now dizzy. I didn't sleep last night because I was too nervous.

I smoke another cigarette and cry a little, less than ten scared tears slide down my cheeks. Another girl slips in and I calm immediately. There is a guy hovering near me with his own cigarette. It feels like he's loitering in my awful day: I don't trust new people. I've noticed he thinks I'm attractive. he finally leaves and I finally drink my coffee that has finally cooled; I can finally leave in a few minutes. I did it. I failed a month ago and my heart broke...This is the first time I've seen so many people since...I did it. I walk home and sob. all I want is you, Handsome.

If the construction worker who was scraping away at the pillar bottom not ten feet away from me, through the entire bench scenario, had come up to me and asked what was wrong, I would have told him "I tried to die a month ago and failed. This is the first time I've been out in public since, and it's really hard."

But I did it.
Thomas W Case Mar 2022
Love finds me in
the nuthouse
wandering in
Delerium, sweat-drenched
dreams.

She's my ******* angel,
and she ***** the
vagabond poison from
my veins.
Arms are bruised to
a Dijon yellow.

I forgot the
ecstasy of
connection and ******
chemistry.
The heat...the
smiles that set the
bones on fire.
This is birth.
LOVE
jeffrey robin Jun 2010
takin the long walk again
faces of the soldier boys don't  bother me none

seekin the clear vision
i'm goin home
freedom aint what i'm fightin for
its just my way of livin
givin myself to you for free
just the way you said you'd want me

HEY NOW THE WORLD'S ON FIRE WITH FEAR
HEY NOW MAMA YOUR CHILD
AINT NEAR YA NOW
HE'S GOIN DOWN DOWN AGAIN
DROWNIN IN A SEA OF  MASS ILLUSION
GUNS ARE SHOOTIN EVERY WHICH A WAY
FLAGS ARE WAVIN ALL OVER THE PLACE

takin the lone stroll around the town
faces of the prostitutes still startle me

i'm just a friend of pure exstacy
givin myself to you for free
just the way you said you'd want me

HEY NOW THE WORLD'S ON FIRE WITH FEAR
HEY NOW MAMA YOUR CHILD
AINT NEAR YA NOW
HE'S GOIN DOWN DOWN AGAIN
DROWNIN IN A SEA OF  MASS ILLUSION
GUNS ARE SHOOTIN EVERY WHICH A WAY
FLAGS ARE WAVIN ALL OVER THE PLACE

FLAGS ARE WAVIN ALL OVER THE PLACE

FLAGS ARE WAVIN ALL OVER THE PLACE
Kali Sep 2010
Well, cut some up
Have some fun then
Hey you're not my boyfriend
******* my arms are ******* cities.

I want you as a blanket, I can't see past this haze, I can't move
I have to kiss you, But you kiss like a fish, maybe the fish markets on my arms are from that fact.
Cactus.

I feel awful, gonna ****.
It's hard to walk.
Spare a dollar?
Can't find-it's my birthda-need food-please

Never do exstacy.
meh. poorly written.
Sean Kassab Apr 2012
I poured the gas and you struck the match and we danced in the satin flames of billowed sheets and romance. Meeting touch with touch, in feather light mercy and a scent of leather, teathers to bind wrists twisted and silk ribbon blind. Out of our minds! Driven mad by a daring caress, the words repeated, "yes," "yes," "YES!!" And dare for more than this! Touched bodies writhe with each burning kiss, each passion taken, given, stolen and cry out! Body on body heavy, break the levy and let flow the river! Back arched bending to the giver in the rising heat, moan, tense, collapse and repeat until the fire is doused in the flood of our exstacy, seen by the light of the rising sun from the window next to me.
Mario Hamblin Nov 2010
Slowly creeping, every in foreward make noise louder and more obvious. I reach the destination. Slowly open it up. I see what I want. Reach in slow, grip, and pull slowly not to damage or make too much noise. Push the buttons and unwind it to the top, rip it off and taste the delightful substance, coursing through my body, refreshing to the taste, exstacy. Some spills down me but I don't mind the smell and taste is amazing. "Delicious". I close the fridge, go back up stairs and go to bed. :-)
Get out of the gutter. Rolf
jeffrey robin Oct 2010
one love!

we are free

we don't "NEED" eachother!

we are here

we are one!

--

to "beg" is to die

--

feel me

i come whenever

you know yourself
as a simplicity
in pure flesh
trembling
in pure exstacy

--

the earth is yours

f--k the politicians

--

your mind is yours

f--k the artists who claim
you need their inspiration

--

your mind is yours

at last i can see you here
Rember the sounds,the sights,our laughter
The joy that rushed us and filled our evey being
the pulsating beat of an excelerating moment
the thumbing of our hearts to the waves of the music
our touchs and our glances and our disires
the satifaction of a gentle brush of skin and plastic
melting in you,energizing you,flowing through your body
the washed-out,blurred faces emulating heat
the soothing flashes of colorful light swirling in mid air, fading and reviving
with a gaint dark mass underneath and in it,
moving and sawying in sync, as if it's one intity,yet it's many individuals,faceless and pure
the smell of over heated,moist bodies glowing in the light
so sweet and alluring and sureal,overdriving our senses
mixing them together into euphoria,into exstacy,flowing into our veins,tingling
then it's gone, all in one moment,
your alone,your scared,your not one intity but one person
reasoning flys back to you,reality lingering in
memories and regrets and lies and happiness sink slowly into your brain filling you with emotions
you recall your last moments of exstacy
then walk away
leaving everything in a shattered mess,not bothering to fix or face it
taking one moment,one piece, from thousands and your gone...it's gone
Akshi Hargoon Mar 2019
In your embrace
Is where I Wana be
The warmth of your body
Seeping through my pores
Feeling of belonging, wanting, needing
Knowing that I can feel this way only with you
Sends my emotions, passions, on a roller coaster ride
This exstacy, a high like never before
It's all you, only you
It's has always been and will always be just you
Jeffrey Robin Apr 2016
7
.





... 0 ...
/           \
/ \


::

I would vote for donald trump

But I don't want to

::

You know that NOTHING  we are told is real --

Actually is !


IT CAN ' T BE !

Nothing can live in such poison


//


LOVE

Nourishes !


LOVE

sustains life !


)(
  

SO ?

WHAT THE ****

ARE

WE DOING
TO

EACH OTHER !!

><<>><

In the quiet sobriety

Of pure enlightened

Meditation


Only then

EXSTACY !

//

she walks naked down the beach

She walks clothed down the beach


She don't know
She don't care

( should you ? )

••

Pure naked truth

::

Well ?


"""""

?

Searching for love ?


?


)?

We ' ll have to talk about     THAT


Some time



.
Kewayne Wadley Jun 2016
Tell me, how do you speak so intimately.
The murmur of your voice caught in my ear.
I've enjoyed talking to you, almost as if you knew that I've waited to hear your voice.
Your thought pressed against my chest
for almost the entire day listening and laughing, interchanging in conversation.
Hoping to enter your thought world just as you've entered mine.
I miss this, having someone to relate to.
The stimulus of flight, tucked in the sound of your voice.
I am not labeling my flaws as just being a man but I am as myself, though every day cannot be as sunny as the next. I implore that a simple sorry would not do justice as it will take a lifetime to erase the amount of hurt of both ends from you to I.
I take full responsibility for the moments I've pushed you away, meaning only to pull you closer. I've repinted to the clouds that hang above my head to please bring my halo back.
My angel whom guides me through the storm.

I lose myself in these thoughts of you. Vividly as they appear.
Not wanting to appear weak in any shape or form in your eyes.
I've told you in full but at the same time I don't think you know the empathises of being missed as much as I've missed you. Though silent and the situation of trying to function normally while dying on the inside is hard to maintain.
Waiting for that one moment, fantasizing about your voice.
Wanting to hug you, to give my hands the sense of comfort of having someone to care about.
A sense of capturing each breath exhaled through your lips.
Feeling your heart beat close to mine.
I think about that often.
In brutal honesty I've never stopped.
The moments grown silent in thought,
Wondering by chance if that is one of the things you keep from me.
I understand that God makes no mistakes and that everything happens for a reason.
But one thing that makes my day,
Is finding his answer in the absolute joy of hearing your voice.
Whether in thought, through text.
Or actually hearing your voice.
I enjoy the intimacy of it all.
Emptying the thoughts of your mind into open palms.
I find myself closer to each and every thought. Hoping not to ever go without the essence of you again. If ever,
I'll hold myself ransom, threatening to jump off the bridge.
Deep into the Mississippi. Sinking in an current without return. Tenfold of each layer of  pain that I've caused you, may I face God's wrath for every tear that you've cried.
Each night before I go to sleep, I pray
For someone that could teach me more about myself.
That in the reflection of her eyes that all would be revealed.
I say that prayer nightly with you in mind
Faith that every touch will equal exstacy
Ken Pepiton Aug 31
Certain persons among us make claims to knowledge
kept from any who cannot imagine that truth,
we, the every day curious kinds of people,
skeptic
become habitually drawn to knowers claiming right
to tell us one may see what one believes, nought else.

Living words, in message form, why must I see angels?
Whose mind may we leave be in us, if not this one,
alive in constant readiness to give a word umph,

past last clear preconception of a call to pay attention,
today, while it remains time out to redeem in meditation,

be tween one mind's aura and another's… imagining
we see light reflected from sources undetected,
so dark sayings illuminate our directed steps,
or we so say, for we believe we know, now,

is when today occurs, and when the code is broken,
hidden meaning sought with Frankl and Anne Frank,
and dramatic reenactments of battles that inspire
judgment, know who won by who continues being,
any with a will to prove a worth, as a gift in minded
heart felt will to say
we may pay more attention
than we are willing to take.

Easily, given meaningful words… these are the medium,
this is the way we conjoin minds in hives intending
to fill to overflowing, so long as flowers need ***.

==========
Cultured pearls.

Irritatingly apparently real
as any brought to become
by merest of coincidental

rare afflictions with beauty
the initial aim, with hands
put to guiding use, knowing

the growing of the nacre
in total absence of sunlight,
of course, we can't know why.

--------

Words authored in ages past,
during times of congregation,

calling all sundry formations
from noise to align as defined

with hands commands, come
and see the other side of all and
more besides, piling mountains
as clouds in late summer, promise
latter rains on latterly sown seed.

The interpretation of this situation,
now, and not another time, here,
where your mind asks mine explain,

lay it out, tell the whole of knowing
now is when we become our self,
first formed from stories told us,

as true, to assume in storyland,
we can talk with Nature as an entity
who uses words as you would, should
you awaken in a jungle denser,

made afraid for the moment, mind
time pause, now, we think, how say
the sages past, must we treat
with care for fear of proud wrath,

encultured hero worth, a weight
in the bag we measure worth with,

each kernal of barley corn, one third
the inch, which is never taken
for a mile, given will to stretch
the wonder of learning for ever's sake,

indeed, to take each one in a myriad
of steps while helping an officer
of the law of Rome, obey it,
by keeping the peace and pace.

So, long from now, these same words
may live on loosely linked orders
of natural progression as we learn,

stories told as true as plausible,
often include impossibly fortuitous
interference in this clouded realm
of certain reasons asking rational

division of soul and spirit, despite
the rule of Rome, in year 869
of this present domineering age,
whereby soul is spirit and vice versa.

Rightly divided now, by me, today,
boldly going, where some crazies
came before me, to make me pay
attention to the will called why.

Jesus, really? Must we accept
the testimony of mystics, as more
than guessing based
on earlier guesses, up from exstacy,
beyond the first guesses given theory,
suppose, we all pretend to know,
as we are reared to become
those who teach to those so lost,
that only our knowing known stories,
can redeem their worth to truth itself.

----------
Listen, let this mindform in you, think.

In creation mode of mind,
given words for anything named
in the world wide web of knowledge,

arranged in searchible stacks, related,
tied religiously to certainty beyond Delphi,

we trust, as we trusted kings, when few
could gainsay prophecy interpreted true,
after the epoch last ended began, in truth,

measure for measure, an inch is always
three barley corns wide, no more
nor less a length, may be taken for a mile,

as we rethink the idea, charity, feeding needs,
agape, we say means charity, highest form
of love one may bestow, at no cost, true,

charity for which we pay is not the same idea.

I come to offer thought through thoroughly
sieved shards of crystaline ***** scried into,
see, there, that occlusion? that is what you

can never know, until the guru says you do.

--------------
Yes, I do recall verses written,
before exposure to naked truth
that war's glory is as the emperor's
lastest fashions, lasterly erroneously

crowning a child's sense of silliness,
when I was a child, I thought, and still
think many thoughts, what to write,
what to let slip away,
what must be folded to put away,
later, imagining I ask your eyes to see,
leaving no description light might show
either real or made up on purpose to make

believable the reason children are exposed,
to Grimm collections of secular wisdom,
unholy impossible animations, yet,

by the time, I got to Phoenix, I was knowing
days depend from days past, pendulating,
swinging arcing swipes past all pretensions,

loose the bonds of wickedness, comb
the tangled locks of dreads,
Rastaferian dread, wisdom
claimed aligned with wonder weedlike
in trembling fear of hell to pay,
what if we make believe, we two, and you,
we come to here, along these lines, thinking

why is not a factor after all is said and done,
plain and smooth, polished to high sheen,

wedoms welcome any with means to make sense,
share our dreads, show us what it is you think
you know, about the ways truth, per se, makes
where no ways was,
moments earlier, pasts past, perhaps,
happening in all that happens, once mayhap

to you,
aha,
I see, you say, lying with your eyes, but knowing
I can imagine common sense, comfort, ease,
true rest in care akin to told of care in story,

we gather to remind our hive, here we make honey.


------------
Watch the dancing bees, rethink
how few persons on earth can think
there is no mind involved in thinking that,

planning means to become superfluous,
dripping sweet memories, in precious
pricey processes of transubstantiation,

sweet, we say, at a fine fix on the flaw,
we all lie, see, we say we know, we lie,

we lieve being true, as good and useful,
the ology of everything pundits preach,
and teach that we may obey, knowing,

no lie forms from truth's first will to tell,
taste and see,
swallow, and wait… at antepartum,
all we think to ask turns bitter in the belly.
Ok.
Delton Peele Jan 2021
I would be hailed nothing less
than
king of all the
Hypocrites
If I failed to confess
And
acknowledge this.
That in my youth.....
Cocky,crass,and lacking cooth
A time when
My mouth went
UnBridled
Anything I want arrogant
Carte blanche
Entitled
Egotistical
had it all ......
Looking back
Hid in securities
Its with crystal clarity
I.c.y
this thing causing my fall
As I reach terminal velocity...
The stench I smell around me
...........
Infidelity
And it matters
Not
who it was committed  with
Or how long ago.
........Still ......
I know its
Simply
A sickning
Debt Im owed
And its return burns ten
Fold
The guilt and shame
Accrued,
With compound interest
Gained...
Came so subtly
..... Karma.....
With abundant clever schemes
setting a horde of locust
Each branded
With my name
To destroy any love and its ever so clear
The poisonous
Prize
is mine to claim
At the risk of sounding vain
Over the years
Ive caused a tsunami of tears ...
Each one full of pain
Ive collected all of them
Like a sadistic
Ritual
I
Feel each one in full
The hurt is
Disabling
I know it
With excruciating
Intimacy.
These
insatiable deeds
That brought
Exstacy
Went rank and jaded me
Love is afraid of me
All my suffering
Is
nothing compared
To the hurt that has been caused
By me
..........
.......
....
...
Yours introspectfully
...
Me
..
.

— The End —