"fleshes" poems
*pain knocks on weathered doors
fastened ever tightly
cryptic access is denied
it camouflages in the shadows
stealthily it watches
hypervigilance enhancing
catastrophe awaiting
it strikes in latent graveyards
the gale begins to form
and unleashes its fierce torrent
the latch shattered and torn
there’s now an open entrance
creeping in it slithers
engulfing to encompass
digging up emotions
buried underground there
hovering and foggy
tho’ murky does not smother
but fleshes out the psyche
entombed and cobweb covered
it crawls along the edges
and peers in secret ledges
seeps into sequesters
like dust settled in feathers
it slides through every feeling
and when it’s at its blackest
it carves the darkness out
and let’s in sunlight’s presence
© 2016janetaylor
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 12:42 PM UTC
Leaves
Murmuring by miriads in the shimmering trees.
Lives
Wakening with wonder in the Pyrenees.
Birds
Cheerily chirping in the early day.
Bards
Singing of summer, scything thro' the hay.
Bees
Shaking the heavy dews from bloom and frond.
Boys
Bursting the surface of the ebony pond.
Flashes
Of swimmers carving thro' the sparkling cold.
Fleshes
Gleaming with wetness to the morning gold.
A mead
Bordered about with warbling water brooks.
A maid
Laughing the love-laugh with me; proud of looks.
The heat
Throbbing between the upland and the peak.
Her heart
Quivering with passion to my pressed cheek.
Braiding
Of floating flames across the mountain brow.
Brooding
Of stillness; and a sighing of the bough.
Stirs
Of leaflets in the gloom; soft petal-showers;
Stars
Expanding with the starr'd nocturnal flowers.
3.1k
Inventing the day,
Circular possessions,
All I own cannot be touched,
Everything lost in a fire,
Blazing nocturnal,
The slab of marble becomes
A tin marker,
Watching with stillness
As fleshes mesh with time,
A poet remains:
The spherical elimination
Casting lights on dark
I find my axis
I find myself the epitome
And the footsteps
In the puddles resound
In my minds echoes;
My body is a transparent verse,
Night unfolds , I
Can see myself again.
Listen to me as you listen
To the water,
I am the unhindered thunder,
The shadow in the light's
Ignorant glow,
From my footsteps rise the
Steam,
I am still The DedPoet,
As you sleep in your bed
I invent my new homes:
Nightly I bocome a
Poem of The Nocturne.
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 12:33 PM UTC
Earth is alive
Universe is alive
The milky way
The time is alive
Space is alive
The stratosphere
The clouds are alive
Air is alive
The grass is alive
The plants are alive
The pets
The wolf is alive
The alive lion
The deer is alive
All fleshes
The leaf is alive
The clay is alive
The sense alive
The brain
The man is alive
The man
The sheep is alive
The time is alive
The space
The dead is alive
The life is alive
The present is alive
Everything is alive
In its own wilderness
The wilderness is alive
Alive you are
Alive I am
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 10:22 PM UTC
little feet dashing across the playground with light-up shoes and arms raised and poised to hold our weaponry. swift movements mark the territory with memories of traipsing through our makeshift castles. when we’re children we gallantly save princesses with long tresses who cry from the tops of towers, fearing uproarious dragons and the darkness of the sky. we protect the princesses from terror, and some of us grow up to become them and learn to protect ourselves. the tall dragons shed their prismatic scales and flinch as they feel the girth of our swords. after much opposition, we face our fears and instantaneously make the final strike and become victorious. we turn and look through the binoculars of our hands and spot nimble thieves stealing the shimmering scales in exchange for their own greed. they climb medieval walls and we try to catch them. impulse clutters our line of vision and we go because there is no time to waste, we don’t want to lose them. sometimes they return the stolen treasure and sometimes its a lost cause. we learn the latter later, through long sighs at lonely 2 ams after seemingly infinite words have spilled out on paper and out loud out to those who can’t come back and those who can but won’t. but the former fleshes itself out when we experience moments of kismet. these days where we share conversations with people who satiate the hollow corners of our hearts and walk outside and breathe in the petrichor just as the sun has wriggled its way into the sky. we learn life is as vivid as any story we become momentarily enchanted by. people come and go as fast as the pages that inspired our childhood adventures turn, and everything happens at once. we face demons as beastly as our dragons but we have our warpaint on no matter how hastily drawn it is, and we convince ourselves of our strength until it’s real to us.
we were the heroes of the story then, light-up shoes running across the playground, and we are the heroes of the story now, playing and living in the light-up world.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 10:01 PM UTC
Here, I loaf,
Coffee in my left, a second wisdom in my right,
Shredding years off of "the plan" to pay the dues, society bills,
Thousands on thousands pile up in pre-season games,
Fingernails digesting in the stomach, slashing through the stream like a cross-saw paper-cut,
Here, my feet bounce,
Behind generationally equal minds, I peak over dandruff and hear nothing but dry lips,
Avoiding the eye, I dip into the ocean,
I wade, I pause, I sink,
My joints crunch and fingertips tap dance,
Here, the static fleshes out,
Every thought a raft, casted away, I play Tom Hanks,
Chalkboards accumulate fine powder, the particles tickle the sneeze,
Outside, the rain is still, falling through the ice,
Inside, my brain is still, falling to the vice,
Here, I watch those watching,
The wrapping on the box, present inside, today we learn tomorrow,
I sit on the bow,
Distraction by means of technology, we are all second-hand smoke detectors,
Together, we learn to strap our seat-belts on correctly,
Here, the window is foggy.
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 11:46 AM UTC
dismember
the jamming fight of my breath
your reciting
the wit that exudes you
i hack mad laughs
the room becomes rude hot
and we burst our fleshes
the seasons collect in some deafening syrup
but still the walls are music with vermin
mushroom tea you and me
May 18, 2025
May 18, 2025 at 5:17 PM UTC
I have been in the land of the dead,
Green valley of infertility, with no end in sight
Where end the flights of steps, reigns eternal night.
But a night it is unlike any on the earth
For a suffused light pervades the horizon for hopes to birth
That on this land though echoes, the wailings of the dead,
Yet can herald a new beginning from life’s leftover thread!
I stood on a high wall and as far as my eyes could see
Walls stretched beyond farthest limits of vision’s boundary
Between them lay bottomless wells glowing with red hot coals
In those abyss moved burning flesh cindering tortured souls!
As I flew over those pits of doom saw many a flaming hand
Waving up in one last bid to be carried away from this land
I couldn’t help them nor save them from their tormentor
I had come here in my dream, just as a passing visitor!
Scared by the hellish sights, I thought it wouldn’t be wise
To foray afar, see more of it, but from dream I must rise
As I turned to leave, in those pits I saw, blue ocean and the sky
Where fleshes burn every moment, desires rot and die!
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 3:04 AM UTC
How you feeling on the top?
Sharpening your tongue, for another fall out?
So, who to care about the mass now?
Who to cut fleshes by their mouths?
Pin it up on religions, once battled
No you don't want to know, who broke the promise
Who brought the message, who blazed the torch
Feed your own enemies with kindness, they taught
But you're dipping fingers in your own people's platters
Building crisis, rolling dices, conquering heights
Listen when the base breaks, you won't stay there
When their dreams scatter, you owe them
They can pull you down from this ladder
Feb 2, 2017
Feb 2, 2017 at 8:53 AM UTC
we are the people
who care only
when there's no care left
we are the people who are void of empathy
we are the one who speaks
while our emptiness sparkles within us
we are the hero's we are the losers
we are everything what we desire to
we are just not ourselves
we looked upon as a stars
we looked down as meagre ones
whatever we feel is alien to others
we are missing ones, we lose ourselves in shapes of others
we are seeking ones, we are loved ones
without love..we love only where's nothing left
it is insane to expect, why do we still care
while everything hurts-- the people, their words their actions
we are everyone and everything
what we long to
we are just not ourselves
not to be longing not to log in with spirits
we desire to hold a spirit-- while our spirits shrink within flesh
we are the forgotten ones , we are the victorious
here are the notions we must not take for-granted
despite we do, till it is finished
it seeks us everything- we finish it without seeking
we begin it without finishing; we finish without starting
we dwell upon sadness, we dwell upon frightfulness
we desire to be whatever we wish to
we are everything, we are everyone
we are just not ourselves
silence holds me like a forgotten friend
i answer with all my sinking-- where to be how to be what to do
these are all the wondering i wonder every now and then
with all considerations, i wonder how to ****** lost souls
to transplant the missing gaps, not to desire a thing
we hold onto despite; we let go with ourselves
we are everyone..we are everything
what we desire to
it's only..we are not just ourselves
the extra ordinary matters to meet the ordinary ones
time for everything, time to do all chores
we beseech our manners without mannerism
we leave a mark which nothing heal
the materialism overshadow us-- we sign with our gestures
to make it worse..without realizing
we realize when its gone..yet we don't amend
we are our shadows, we are our fleshes
we are souls we are the sinking hearts
to be seen everywhere, to be felt in each pattern
we are everything we are everyone
what we desire to
we are just not ourselves
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
To be classifiable, she nervously applies the cake to her nostrils
While splinters stick in her fingertips. 30. To be a woman she
Harvests necrotic insects and dances in Warhol underpants.
I explain how gravity loves the catalogue of your unique hollywood
Romances. Each train takes a new storyline through the ****** treetops
And counterfeit addictions she poises herself in to seem attractive to
Each magazine under her daddy's workbench.
Being a woman is more than big ***** and paint for brains. Some skins Cling to the reels of the love language sprinting through historical Venetian street settings. I smoke ***** with wizards.
For the first time I witness the acatalepsy of the Irish, but narrowly
Passing the beguiling succor that renders the whim of persons
In the acronychal hours.
I'm telling you your hands are my new exoskeleton. I take to you
With the excitement of gravity. New denude photographs of pallor
Fleshes upstay the human trials we are blessed to share in this open sky,
Where I warn the blues of the sky to be jealous of these sciophilous Women who experience the unyielding pressure to feel the pleasures
Our confabulations offer acushla.
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 9:35 AM UTC
Mellifluous,
as their body melts over yours,
and yours glistens in the dappling moonlight,
the warmth of the sheets
encompassing your fleshes.
The sweetness of 1,000 plums,
Permeate your mind
on the tip of your tongue.
The shiver of the coldest wind,
Glides across your spine
as their touch meets,
you hush.
Hoping that your reaction --
Won't be too much,
But just enough
Just enough to express,
the thoughts in your grey chasm
through the touch
of the pink abyss.
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 2:40 PM UTC
Welcome to darkness, tis imagination which
reaches the darkest valley
In the valley of Hades resides I, darkness prevails,
moons and skies of deepest purple,
they are black enveloped in darkness here
Black roses fall above dead skies like obsidian glass,
they smash here into millions of red dancing eyes
Rushing forming the Phlegethon River of blood fires,
Erinys the dead mind, the lost, are all welcome here
Night walkers roam without eyes,
Suffocation is sweet death, no air can you breathe here,
Vrykolakas shift dimensions in night’s payment,
Fresh dead are the souls
Spiders of eight whip, bite and sink deep into eyes,
Scorpion’s sting at rotten limbs, no light shines,
No sun lingers upon flesh,
─ Reserved is your place here ─
Death by imagination, shadows creep and walls scream
Screaming souls run through mind,
Bodies severed and blood fountains rain,
─ Yes it is ****** hell and dark here ─
Werewolf’s roam, ripping, dripping, devoured bodies,
Feast your eyes upon black mother snakes,
Coiled they crush bones, Venomous fangs sliced flesh,
Hissing the mothers laugh,
Orinein you dead of dismal blackness
Gorge you from this table of cold fleshes; hear flesh screaming
as you open, squirming inside, cold blood pounds in your head,
Blood runs from your ears, eyes bleeding into blooded wine
The knife before you, as you slice from head to toe,
Laughing there is no escape,
─ For you are dead ─.
She, Hades and Cerberus will hold you here, her walls are portraits,
Withering fleshes, long dead beauties pinned black paper;
ice cold diamonds drip in her gallery,
His gift of black blooded roses fill her chest,
Polished to points her bed sharp coals, purple flames burn evermore….
her throne weaved mothers, eighty eight heads,
before them you are dead,
A miserable dream, no hope as you pass through Adamantine gates,
Black fading submerged into the Lethe, slowly to nothingness,
~Dead are you here ~
© Arnay Rumens / A Sol Poet 2013
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 3:57 AM UTC
"As you prepare to hop into New Year and celebrate its Newness, ponder and think of Aleppo-Syria, S.Sudan, Congo and many warring Nations. Pray that 2017 may be a year of peace and consolation."
ALEPPO!
For Humble Humanities of Aleppo-Syria, S. Sudan, Congo and all Warring Nations, Peace be upon you!
Aleppo, beautiful Aleppo
There only as a desolate sad memory!
Aleppo, a sadly stolen ivory
Aleppo, cry-tears without a drain-dry
Aleppo, last of light
She has fallen, fatally
Beautiful bride of Arabia
O sweet heart of Syria
A rubble of rust dust
She lays lost and desperate
Scraps-a mass of maimed mess
Aleppo, a tale of was
Aleppo, a lonely woman in deep grief
Aleppo, a loner lost in her wilderness of laments
Aleppo, Aleppo, fallen yet not mourned
Aleppo, suffering yet not aided
Aleppo, dilapidated yet of sweet taste
Aleppo, fallen, fallen to unrecyclable waste
Aleppo, pathetic crumbled rubbles of past pretty paste
Aleppo, women mourning
Aleppo, men groaning
Aleppo, children moaning
Aleppo, wasted, as world silent watches
Aleppo, true, war profits some, war is a profiting business!
War funds Big Uncle Sam and his Allies’ economies
For Aleppo falls in silences of his bullish bragging democracies
Like Libya, like Syria, like Afghanistan, like Iraq……
All falls to their allied mercenaries
Women suffers, men labours, children’s-offers of overs
Aleppo, a wreck of debris, a forgotten woman
Aleppo, a ***** and left woman
Aleppo, a defiled and done man
Aleppo, a molested and mutilated child
Aleppo, a shell of hanging skeletons
Aleppo, bones and fleshes long gone
Aleppo, fallen, fallen into an eternal sleep!
Aleppo, fare-thee-well: Aleppo, rest-in-eternal-peace!
© Kìùra Kabiri. All rights reserved.
Dec 31, 2016
Dec 31, 2016 at 2:24 AM UTC
Of what lies the fate of being One? The aspirations of a paradise fast forgone.
Peers that flux to tame tide. Dreams of Heroes they far together glide. Morrows they lived to prosper in love. Affections that glow, no one needs to plough.
Rustic although was dark. ***** although civilisation was lack.
Yet! Still yet!!!
The bluntness of the spear cuts through many hearts.
Her invincible hand drops inventions of it kind to dirts.
A long journey into the wood is what draws nearer.
Moonlight folklores, dominating smell of affection in d air. Hopefulness of hopeless tomorrow’s meal a Dear.
Sounds of the storm, through pavorated doors, roofs left ajar.
The storm of life rages to scatter the sands.
Erosion into throats wanders fleshes into pounds.
Everyone, many one, all one soughts to touch what brains now serve as it grows. Big houses, bigger pockets, a good life as it goes.
Exodus of now, without a Moses of now into a promised land that Joshua never belonged. Pillars of light, Amalekites in all ways with many Yawehs.
Now! All is touched, many is known except a paradise that used to be. Crowds are made, Banks now a pocket, and so are Devils that flux as Bee.
Nostalgia haunts like nightmare. Ways back summons with all lyrics.
All ways looks like that fare. Heart longs, threatens to pieces.
I set back to trace all tunnels.
All tunnels that lead to paradise far forgone.
A Granny that gets all into her without funnel.
An uncle that treats all for one.
Journey that used to b an epic now concave. Rural that reminds paradise now like the hell forgone.
All I long to see now gone with the wave. Things are no more the way it used to be while we were one.
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 10:31 AM UTC
cold air hits her harshly
toes shiver as hair stands up
bringing a blanket closer to her self
the rain continues to pelt
and she continues
to indulge herself in words
that provide her home and warmth
she was a quiet one in tongue
but a loud one in hands and heart
she wrote endlessly about her pain
about how no one ever heard her speak
how no one ever saw her tongue dart out
she wrote it all to a man
who would never notice her words
or ever hear her cries
the cold air was harsh, and she had no blanket
rain pelted down mercilessly on her body
bare feet touching little oceans of waters
the sea bed being cemented and lined yellow
traffic lights jammed
no consistent lighting in sight
heart drowned in the flood
rain coming from the heart
overflowing through her eyes
she took a gulp
cloudy eyes drifting upwards to a window
a man pushing a woman against the glass
plumped fleshes on their faces
touching one another
how she wished to be the woman
all her words dried up in her throat
every thought became frozen in her mind
no pen in sight
no paper to crumple and catch her tears
the flood was overflowing in her heart
and yet it continued to rain
she shrugged off her thin jacket
and she shivered
hair stood up
toes trembled
no source of warmth
silently
she lunged herself forward
not noticing the eyes from above
and the scream that erupted behind the window
but instead
noticing the car
that was swerving recklessly
in her direction
the one that kept her stationary
was the one that pushed her
him.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 12:55 AM UTC
Come ,escape with me,
where head stands high and mind
is without fear and no guilt to see...
Come,escape with me,
we dare to open the old lost lock
with our newly devised key...
I am here to see the guilt
I am here to taste the colour
I am here to listen the pain
to identify the known killer
We sing the songs from
the oozing arrogant blood
and freshly cut fleshes, to mourn
the thousand people
that have been ripped off from
their lives without any reasons or
any identified faces...
although the time has gone
and the song is over,hope you
will join me in this war against
the pain we receive forever....
Come,escape with me....
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 2:56 PM UTC
this semi-seemingly sad refrain~reflection, more truth than
one can even understand,
for my physical self slowly
disappearing, diminishing
though no visible pieces
as of yet,
gone missing
few of you have come to visit me
in NYC, so you cannot be sure of
anything you’ve been told, for the
great liar claims, the internet bleeds
disinformation believe this
if nothing
else
for I’ve been a dream from my very
naissance, a vision imaginable by
those who contemplate my whereabouts,
my visages, we bemused, while
you imbibe, tongue |taste
mrs
written bouche amusante
well,
if you want them pieces & parts,
poems in the fleshes,
seek outa one eyed guy patched
by a rivered walk path,
see a troubadour on his soap box
amusing the real peoples
who pause to reflect
cause
them
give respect to his peculiarities,
listen to his truths bout
himself and them
selves too
if you can’t camp this far,
then believe in your dreams
cause my come and go,
fly out the window
and have reached as far as
the Phillipines, New Zealand &
the Land of Oz
I’m their break from the news,
indeed call me ‘the new news,’
which so cool, makes us laugh,
cause there ain’t no much new
by this foolish OG, ‘cept for the
rhythm of and blues, I spin, the rhymes
that they fet/met/net me with dollar bills,
loose change and half used joints in lieu of cash-is-trash
So I dream, they dream,
together we scheme,
each of us composing,
in separate and equal
prepositions preposterous
and share all who to be heard,
especially those who wish to also
have their dreams be
seen
Nov 17, 2024
Nov 17, 2024 at 7:54 AM UTC
Words have power.
We all know this.
Verbs have power
because without verbs
we can neither laugh nor cry,
neither run nor walk;
we cannot breathe,
nor even be,
without a verb.
A noun too has power
because with it we have, in a sense,
mastery of the object, the person, or the feeling
that we name.
Even an adjective has power,
for it qualifies the noun,
fleshes it out,
makes it more our possession.
A conjunction,
small, insignificant,
you might think
without power,
but ....
All words have power.
We know this,
or we would not be writing poetry.
Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 11:26 AM UTC
Of what lies the fate of being One? The aspirations of a paradise fast forgone.
Peers that flux to tame tide. Dreams of Heroes they far together glide. Morrows they lived to prosper in love. Affections that glow, no one needs to plough.
Rustic although was dark. ***** although civilisation was lack.
Yet! Still yet!!!
The bluntness of the spear cuts through many hearts.
Her invincible hand drops inventions of it kind to dirts.
A long journey into the wood is what draws nearer.
Moonlight folklores, dominating smell of affection in d air. Hopefulness of hopeless tomorrow’s meal a Dear.
Sounds of the storm, through pavorated doors, roofs left ajar.
The storm of life rages to scatter the sands.
Erosion into throats wanders fleshes into pounds.
Everyone, many one, all one soughts to touch what brains now serve as it grows. Big houses, bigger pockets, a good life as it goes.
Exodus of now, without a Moses of now into a promised land that Joshua never belonged. Pillars of light, Amalekites in all ways with many Yawehs.
Now! All is touched, many is known except a paradise that used to be. Crowds are made, Banks now a pocket, and so are Devils that flux as Bee.
Nostalgia haunts like nightmare. Ways back summons with all lyrics.
All ways looks like that fare. Heart longs, threatens to pieces.
I set back to trace all tunnels.
All tunnels that lead to paradise far forgone.
A Granny that gets all into her without funnel.
An uncle that treats all for one.
Journey that used to b an epic now concave. Rural that reminds paradise now like the hell forgone.
All I long to see now gone with the wave. Things are no more the way it used to be while we were one.
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 7:46 PM UTC
I have a story to tell.
A story you already knew so well.
But this won’t begin
With your typical “Once upon a time”.
I have a story to tell
A story you want to hear on your bedtime.
This is a piece of letter
Of hearts and roses
From a simple girl
Who wrote on a piece of a timeworn paper
Her dreams and wishes;
Of burns and ashes.
And it goes like this…
*“Tonight, I’m sipping wine. And I pray and I wish that you are fine. That you can surpass everything life throws at you. Because I know, you are good at catching things.
And putting myself at the edge of the hill, with nothing to hold but the thin air, and jumping off of the cliff would be worth the fall, if I see you there under, waiting. You were there. Not minding what it would cost you catching me.
Those to you, bruises and wounds are what but nothing. Because I know, you are a fighter, a catcher. And you are good at catching.
And if in the end, we see ourselves barely breathing, consuming one another, wearing those painful marks of risking it all, why not spend the rest of our lives healing all those scratches, tattered fleshes, and broken bones.
Then, we’ll look back. We’ll speak to one another without hushing any piece of word. We’ll voice with nothing but smiles and stares that we made it. That we exceed boundaries of almost, and that we finally brought all the pillars, all the columns, and all the walls down. We cut that paper thin and fine lines of hopelessly dreaming and living the reality, of what is real. Together, we explored and unlocked the unimaginable door ways to our infinities and galaxies, and universe and ultimate. We are our own universe. We have discovered the ultimate.
These are the prize of trying and fighting and catching and winning. That fear is what but nothing.
And you are synonymous to everything.”*
This is the story I want to tell.
A story you already knew so well.
And the only lesson, my friend
That this scene of standing, and holding,
And jumping, and catching, and living
Is not the movie’s ****** 30-minutes away down to the end,
But only the beginning of a well-written story of characters
Of perfect blends.
This is the plot of betting it all.
This is the story of The Greatest Fall.
WNG
070915
10:00pm
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 4:53 AM UTC
beautiful thoughts shouldn't be confined:
silence is experienced deep in the water;
soft yet strong, denying to alter...
spirits and fleshes are reluctant to combine:
now the time is slipping;
slowly the lights are also dimming...
unconscious about the belief:
dark, jovial and fragile feelings;
exploding inside and bleeding...
some like talking, some prefer to be quiet:
some show, some hide;
should confined explosions be dried?
- Aishwarya Kulkarni
Oct 22, 2020
Oct 22, 2020 at 9:27 AM UTC
Pheromones
Code of rhythm, fleshes and bones
A hidden connection.
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 8:13 PM UTC
Black, tamed, tanned fleshes
Backs that have bent under the lashes
White, knocked, stripped bodies
Souls that have cried under the follies.
Here they are, numbed and weak
Here they are, abused and bleak
Here they are, numbed and wicked
Here they are, afraid and naked.
Broken, divided, lost knowledge
Minds that were pushed towards the edge
Bullied, bucketed, libel laws
Bones that were eaten by jackdaws.
Here they are, tortured and whipped
Here they are, tainted and with, wrestled
Here they are, gagged and secluded
Here they are, gunned and, for, settled.
Where are you, mockers and dealers
Horrid hearts who have robbed the beggars?
Bullied, bucketed, libel laws
Bones who were envied by the caws.
Here they are, accusers and lawyers
Here they are, robbers and buyers
So let me ask you a question,
Where are we in this garrison?
March 23, 2013
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 8:33 AM UTC
mass intimacy fleshes my heart into a better part
mass intimacy fleshes my heart into a better art
I
love
you>>>>>>
(passages to dusk and doors to dawn; sleep through the night, and you'll wake on my lawn)
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 8:28 PM UTC