Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"galvanizing" poems
Like a captive, I capture rapture wrapping around stakes that matter Joan of Arc battered Also tattered but, easily dismissive Refracted from fractured prominent phrases people play with Distinctly persuasive and evasive, dressed boyishly attractive, lax stature, dawning armor crafted by absence as if asked about it- I’m drifted Protection is principle prerequisite, when fire is lit I sort of implore your aorta before it’s incinerated to ashes Dethatched as a habit, with swords or hatchets crafted to singe heartstrings that attached it While I slash slick Rick as a quick fix, To fend for pretend pretenses or presumed tricks, I can’t quit Cause I hit lips against hash spliffs fashioned with dashes of passion all while rationing fireball cinnamon sips Martyr to avoidance I gaze at fabled dazed gossipers galvanizing grips on gritty grapevines while licking warning labels through smoke haze on blurred lines Capably unstable Other eyes attending scandal circles able to shout lies and rekindle handed arguments on tables with locked smiles stay boxed in Avidly amiable Searching for counterparts when combusted or branded Toying with matches loses meaning when rules reseed Those vagabonds claim love is some all end hard bent to mend what the same above can’t comprehend. Breaking boredom, I pillage pillows with night terrors And ardent arsonists yearn for flames that churn, turn, liquefy and learn learned thoughts and smoldered feelings Completely complacent Melting in one another they are completing each other like two candles tryst true at a wedding day However later the blaze is severed, smoke sears, and charred black wick stands alone for them. Aggressive and progressive. As for me never pleading, fire forever fleets to streets between iron bars I built that cage in deep heat and seep dire dreams once desired Suppose I’m a skeptic Roasted or disconnected Just jaded, just met you Always over it too soon Burnt but I’m amused. I’m useful.
0
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
Martyr
Like a captive, I capture rapture wrapping around stakes that matter Joan of Arc battered Also tattered but, easily dismissive Refracted from fractured prominent phrases people play with Distinctly persuasive and evasive, dressed boyishly attractive, lax stature, dawning armor crafted by absence as if asked about it- I’m drifted Protection is principle prerequisite, when fire is lit I sort of implore your aorta before it’s incinerated to ashes Dethatched as a habit, with swords or hatchets crafted to singe heartstrings that attached it While I slash slick Rick as a quick fix, To fend for pretend pretenses or presumed tricks, I can’t quit Cause I hit lips against hash spliffs fashioned with dashes of passion all while rationing fireball cinnamon sips Martyr to avoidance I gaze at fabled dazed gossipers galvanizing grips on gritty grapevines while licking warning labels through smoke haze on blurred lines Capably unstable Other eyes attending scandal circles able to shout lies and rekindle handed arguments on tables with locked smiles stay boxed in Avidly amiable Searching for counterparts when combusted or branded Toying with matches loses meaning when rules reseed Those vagabonds claim love is some all end hard bent to mend what the same above can’t comprehend. Breaking boredom, I pillage pillows with night terrors And ardent arsonists yearn for flames that churn, turn, liquefy and learn learned thoughts and smoldered feelings Completely complacent Melting in one another they are completing each other like two candles tryst true at a wedding day However later the blaze is severed, smoke sears, and charred black wick stands alone for them. Aggressive and progressive. As for me never pleading, fire forever fleets to streets between iron bars I built that cage in deep heat and seep dire dreams once desired Suppose I’m a skeptic Roasted or disconnected Just jaded, just met you Always over it too soon Burnt but I’m amused. I’m useful.
Continue reading...
34
land's moniker mulls utmost care      Kalinga branding the ox       of men with glaringly   immaculate chiaroscuro, atop hills flourishing with the fruits emblazoning   reticence.   chase angel-ward, the synopsis   of meaningfulness,     jagged, indelible accoutrement     akin to the brand of          chaste heritage,    galvanizing this epitaph      with aesthetic nativity,   gallant mambabatok - fill my bones with the ache of your past,    carve in me what the rippling     shrill of air has toppled       in the highlands   you have us shaking the blood     of this archipelago like boughs    breaking free from water's ebb,    frenzied by the river-warm     serpentine embellishment    the strike of the thorns     mints in our untouched bodies!    altogether in this numerous hike    we go in pursuit, hunting the    nibble from flesh to bone,     revealing the rebel, body        to soul.
0
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 5:10 AM UTC
Whang Od
*Uncelestial anxious oppugners', critics on their own Wangling little dysceptic inklings'; Havesting in my throbbing head I urch and search resolution An escape of palputations I skirm in sleep mode like earth-worms in the ground The rings around their bellies; a suffocating mark of identity Slime and **** I mope like the straying mut My growling topsy-turvy gut, off shut; Claiming demands so supple A nimbled and unfleshly sensation, I feel light to the touch Splotchy clod's that lurch my lungs Short breath that ache and lunge through ribs Where they've sprung sprighly from their cage, they trick me, they're fibs Leaches latching on to skin suckeling blood from an anemic thin too thin, light headed again Personification galvanizing so astute my anxiety has eatin it's way to brood*
0
Dec 4, 2010
Dec 4, 2010 at 5:52 AM UTC
Angst That Feed On Brood
your aura is magnetizing, i fell in your orbit. i was drawn to your light, you are my Aurora. you are galvanizing. i felt the sparks, i absorbed it. i adore it. i swore it sort of poured from my pores when i stored it. © Matthew Harlovic
0
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 9:19 PM UTC
aurora
I look out from a car window and remember that I learned to love the trees and thought of all the graves. Of all the shallow graves under the erected deep where there is all hair, lonely and naked, against the time and rain as a stage lit river bank with drawn fire and ice clicks along the cold side of the keys to crawl like waves of timber among the oceanic mountains uttering a small prayer to say that I am here, up and coming, coddled through coarse grind in pulpit about peace and subtle motion. All shallow. All echo. All graves and disbelief. The woods all beckon. The billboards gasp in a valley of tears and I sit for a long time and think heavily at the middle of my steering wheel until you push my hair back and scratch my skin like shallow cuts to swell. Under the erected deep where murderous crows lie, scattered and her crawl, now a galvanizing leap.
0
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 1:48 PM UTC
Skin.
Can you settle for more or less if today was your last day And what would be your retort if you were denied another chance? How life introduces sobriety and the impending inevitability The interstice and it’s ingress that encloses before your eyes The demanding pouring of importune time That soothing allaying sighs that evoke incalculable alleviation If someone were to impart as they closed their eyes As they died with a commital of happenings with not enough time As to burden you with the impression of only one chance It would seem and with the impending inevitability Of your death which would subito compromise the day A bearding contrivance plight of obligations engagement and commital no alleviation An abecedarian dossier concealed for a long time All this time the inevitable coinciding incident only for your eyes The emotional habituation was of quotidian rendition each day Of how trivial things take us on a dance with only one life one chance With your attention and awareness on the answer the inevitability Of what you are becoming with each passing second for each Thought which transpires and no alleviation Is there an epoch a replicating limn a depiction of our linear time As we perpetrate and pursue progressively for our alleviation Engaged to staying the course the day Stirring closing in on our deliberate objective determined chance Which remained for a terse duration from the inevitability In which at the atrium of this erstwhile portage of a duvet to belabor To stifle firsthand with your eyes The variant from this domicile from this residence on a day Is the vagabond to perish in yonder with no alleviation Once man was a brute dullard or a curmudgeon spinster at a time Which offers a mute disconnection ragged miscreant the inevi Naivety or absent mindedness to somnambulist and its silhouette Notwithstanding change The quagmire and it’s nightmare the ingrate delighted with coined Shunned eyes Reputation with a flagrant obscene defilement galvanizing The alleviation At the heart of this lies another chance A precocious inevitability A man who lies to die another day The annihilation in desperate want for from those argent eyes To the starving newfangled optimism which in its sheen Shines sunshine dulling the ocular orbs of time Forwithal in befuddlement remain here The time if infringement to comprehend the volatile vertigo And the inevitability The harrowing of hell Glance at the shinning suns in her eyes intention considers change After you heal and left are the cicatrix Will you plunge further for alleviation Or on the intent of regression once again From long ago to another distant day.
0
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 9:20 PM UTC
Destination
Can you settle for more or less if today was your last day And what would be your retort if you were denied another chance? How life introduces sobriety and the impending inevitability The interstice and it’s ingress that encloses before your eyes The demanding pouring of importune time That soothing allaying sighs that evoke incalculable alleviation If someone were to impart as they closed their eyes As they died with a commital of happenings with not enough time As to burden you with the impression of only one chance It would seem and with the impending inevitability Of your death which would subito compromise the day A bearding contrivance plight of obligations engagement and commital no alleviation An abecedarian dossier concealed for a long time All this time the inevitable coinciding incident only for your eyes The emotional habituation was of quotidian rendition each day Of how trivial things take us on a dance with only one life one chance With your attention and awareness on the answer the inevitability Of what you are becoming with each passing second for each Thought which transpires and no alleviation Is there an epoch a replicating limn a depiction of our linear time As we perpetrate and pursue progressively for our alleviation Engaged to staying the course the day Stirring closing in on our deliberate objective determined chance Which remained for a terse duration from the inevitability In which at the atrium of this erstwhile portage of a duvet to belabor To stifle firsthand with your eyes The variant from this domicile from this residence on a day Is the vagabond to perish in yonder with no alleviation Once man was a brute dullard or a curmudgeon spinster at a time Which offers a mute disconnection ragged miscreant the inevi Naivety or absent mindedness to somnambulist and its silhouette Notwithstanding change The quagmire and it’s nightmare the ingrate delighted with coined Shunned eyes Reputation with a flagrant obscene defilement galvanizing The alleviation At the heart of this lies another chance A precocious inevitability A man who lies to die another day The annihilation in desperate want for from those argent eyes To the starving newfangled optimism which in its sheen Shines sunshine dulling the ocular orbs of time Forwithal in befuddlement remain here The time if infringement to comprehend the volatile vertigo And the inevitability The harrowing of hell Glance at the shinning suns in her eyes intention considers change After you heal and left are the cicatrix Will you plunge further for alleviation Or on the intent of regression once again From long ago to another distant day.
Continue reading...
51
Giving or not giving voice to the heretical words... Understanding that the true love is a scarification..... For being or not being.... True love inundating the conundrum Like that sacred river of longing, Sometimes flowing swiftly through landscapes Astounding the lurid heart..... The sound of silence passing... Passions galvanizing the wounds and painful mares for enduring... Trying to heal the injury... Flying gulls beneath the lower bow, touching the blue waters of the ocean..... Waves and sad memories dancing on the golden sand.... Shying away from the horizon line.... Vessels screaming and shouting their hearts out.... Swimming across the ocean of red burning coals, Searching for that golden threshold..... The colors spectrum giving the necessary senses to the lights of absolution, When their senses turn inward..... Gazing the mountain from the windowpane... From the indoor side of that rain-rinsed windowpane..... Sitting on that mountain and gazing at the stars.... Birds gliding across, like rainbow rising, spreading their wings, streaming.. Those birds flying in a variety of ways, ranging from gliding to soaring to flapping.... The crystalline steeping slopes of the mountain multi faces.... Being decorated with climbing ropes, heavenly as seen from above.... And the crystalline waters, steeping cliffs, hidden lakes and lush forests... A sign of a divine love... Understanding that love is like the Earth and the gravity, Inseparable..... Groans and moans leading to mortuaries.... Life being like walking in the middle of the park, Embracing the crouch air, Or embracing change by resisting the defensive crouch..... And going deep into the human system, feeling like being born again.... The smile on face painting an episode of the past, Engraving our hearts with golden debris, Like a golden pyramid, contracting pyramid..... Generating our consciousness and chasing away insanity.... Sounds of silence passing... Being like a blue ocean...
0
Oct 8, 2011
Oct 8, 2011 at 7:18 AM UTC
I’m your blue ocean
Giving or not giving voice to the heretical words... Understanding that the true love is a scarification..... For being or not being.... True love inundating the conundrum Like that sacred river of longing, Sometimes flowing swiftly through landscapes Astounding the lurid heart..... The sound of silence passing... Passions galvanizing the wounds and painful mares for enduring... Trying to heal the injury... Flying gulls beneath the lower bow, touching the blue waters of the ocean..... Waves and sad memories dancing on the golden sand.... Shying away from the horizon line.... Vessels screaming and shouting their hearts out.... Swimming across the ocean of red burning coals, Searching for that golden threshold..... The colors spectrum giving the necessary senses to the lights of absolution, When their senses turn inward..... Gazing the mountain from the windowpane... From the indoor side of that rain-rinsed windowpane..... Sitting on that mountain and gazing at the stars.... Birds gliding across, like rainbow rising, spreading their wings, streaming.. Those birds flying in a variety of ways, ranging from gliding to soaring to flapping.... The crystalline steeping slopes of the mountain multi faces.... Being decorated with climbing ropes, heavenly as seen from above.... And the crystalline waters, steeping cliffs, hidden lakes and lush forests... A sign of a divine love... Understanding that love is like the Earth and the gravity, Inseparable..... Groans and moans leading to mortuaries.... Life being like walking in the middle of the park, Embracing the crouch air, Or embracing change by resisting the defensive crouch..... And going deep into the human system, feeling like being born again.... The smile on face painting an episode of the past, Engraving our hearts with golden debris, Like a golden pyramid, contracting pyramid..... Generating our consciousness and chasing away insanity.... Sounds of silence passing... Being like a blue ocean...
Continue reading...
40
Writing is not only an inspection of the world, it is the inspection of the self-contained world. The self realizing it's own purposelessness, and the seeming fruitlessness of the fight against the battering ram of its conclusions; so the self fights for freedom against this self-oppression, fights for a galvanizing truth with its self-contained ball of fire that burns weakly inside of it as the world outside goes bumping in the night blindly. Writing forces you more inward than outward. It is the inner world that re-lights the outer world; against all the blighting anvils in this tiny green universe.
0
Feb 28, 2012
Feb 28, 2012 at 10:12 PM UTC
Writing.
Your hands meet mine yet I feel no such warmth beneath, Like as in your heart - your pulse is beating but it bears no love. It does not sing a song that wins over the robins that wake us in the morn', And it does not seem to make me flit nervously as a child would. (Those etiquette lessons did not do me much justice – I still fidget.) I may be beautiful today - rose-stained cheeks and chandelier eyes, But you must understand that this white dress, drowning in lace and beading, Is similar to your own outfit as well, dashing young gentleman - we are trapped. Just a marriage of convenience, isn't it? Like what your mother said to you. (As what mine has said to me. It seems as if we have found something in common.) It is like the sacerdotal man, dressed in his ornate robes, does not care much for us; As if his readings of the words of the Lord rectifies our loveless union. And as his voice trails off and he orders you to touch upon my lips with a kiss, I can’t help but tighten my mouth and pretend that you’re my prince charming. (How I wish to shove our vows down his throat, to make him take this all back.) The audience stands tall and proud and claps with a feigned enthusiasm, Galvanizing the church with fraudulent hope and happiness. I am the docile blushing bride, and as you lead us out of the threshold, I cannot help but wonder how two people could have destroyed such a beautiful thing. (We are murderers of matrimony, aren’t we, dear? Not much better than a petty criminal.)
0
Jun 24, 2010
Jun 24, 2010 at 6:51 AM UTC
murderers of matrimony
Your hands meet mine yet I feel no such warmth beneath, Like as in your heart - your pulse is beating but it bears no love. It does not sing a song that wins over the robins that wake us in the morn', And it does not seem to make me flit nervously as a child would. (Those etiquette lessons did not do me much justice – I still fidget.) I may be beautiful today - rose-stained cheeks and chandelier eyes, But you must understand that this white dress, drowning in lace and beading, Is similar to your own outfit as well, dashing young gentleman - we are trapped. Just a marriage of convenience, isn't it? Like what your mother said to you. (As what mine has said to me. It seems as if we have found something in common.) It is like the sacerdotal man, dressed in his ornate robes, does not care much for us; As if his readings of the words of the Lord rectifies our loveless union. And as his voice trails off and he orders you to touch upon my lips with a kiss, I can’t help but tighten my mouth and pretend that you’re my prince charming. (How I wish to shove our vows down his throat, to make him take this all back.) The audience stands tall and proud and claps with a feigned enthusiasm, Galvanizing the church with fraudulent hope and happiness. I am the docile blushing bride, and as you lead us out of the threshold, I cannot help but wonder how two people could have destroyed such a beautiful thing. (We are murderers of matrimony, aren’t we, dear? Not much better than a petty criminal.)
Continue reading...
20
Every inch of this universe seems gloomy without you and your name resides  in every atom of my body.  My heart teeming with so  much love to give I don't  think I can ever have enough of you. All the drugs turn otiose  in comparison to you.  Stay here wrapped up in my arms and let the synchronization of  our heart beats be the only rhythm  we dance on. Let the stars lean down  and waves flood the shore. Let the moon lose it's light and the sun, it's warmth.  Just spin with me in this paradise  of insanity and love. It ain't the ordinary  feeling but a strong  enraptured feeling you give me when I look in to your assuasive​ eyes. Your touch brings in delectation  blooming every flower at my feet,  lighting every candle in my life.  Stay here as all our sorrow drown  in this aesthetical night. Let me sink into  those eyes and love you with every ounce. Give me all your attention. Give me all your pain. Give me all your ailments for you no longer have to bear them alone. Let my voice guide you home and keep you safe. The heart that you have given me is my elixir.  Allow me to give you all I have as my heart has chosen you and only you.  On this very galvanizing night I have  fallen yet again only if you knew.
0
Jun 30, 2017
Jun 30, 2017 at 5:14 AM UTC
~ Beginnings ~
press the butter into my hand watch it slink away dissolving oval opal full moon winter cold preserves, or so they tell me. galvanizing current of blazing unknowns hung in the sky on tenterhooks salve and siphon strung together, web of calloused fingers don’t need to laminate the little gestures — just the feelings behind them poster board picture placement cull the very thing you’ve ignored the shore shakes and shimmers and i can endure this ocean no more.
0
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 3:02 PM UTC
a roadmap to a lost art
Was it the prowess of caress that made us touch each other's souls? Breaking ****** hole, divulging teary eyes and defined Love Realize, All told?. Was it when you said good night (Gracious, Obscure Our Devotion Needing Indescribable, Galvanizing, Heightened Tenacity) that you were to reach out? Actually. Playing the code game, ***** its fame you know it's lame. But I'd always be a beast you couldn't tame. Did you want me to remember to miss you?. Well in cloud nine I'd kiss you, put my work on the line, lay your body supine, coarse and rough edges refine. Huff & puff, grunt and sigh... But before that you'd say: 'You've been a friend, fine, come and dine'. Your scent makes no sense to the sensible scenes of sanity's descent. Why can't I forget you?, was it the aroma of your lotion?. Oh love breathes I sniffed that potion. Of course I had to sneeze coz I’ve always believed in caution before emotion. As sailors say; crying a river won't you get you any fish _ well you're one I'd never let off the hook. I was cold when you shook. I never knew love by the book. Foolish women having been wise about men, I'd steal their advice like a crook. But now you're gone and all those memories you took. Go on at your back I won't look. Sail on by, I've said long bye. Now shine on high coz' you've found fools who **** and don't make love with style. It's all flair when it's fair *** fate be just you'd be my ex. But I never had the heart to axe. 0k then X, dark forces best not hex, you're on true love's list next. XOX
0
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 3:47 AM UTC
Dear Mysterious ‘X’
Was it the prowess of caress that made us touch each other's souls? Breaking ****** hole, divulging teary eyes and defined Love Realize, All told?. Was it when you said good night (Gracious, Obscure Our Devotion Needing Indescribable, Galvanizing, Heightened Tenacity) that you were to reach out? Actually. Playing the code game, ***** its fame you know it's lame. But I'd always be a beast you couldn't tame. Did you want me to remember to miss you?. Well in cloud nine I'd kiss you, put my work on the line, lay your body supine, coarse and rough edges refine. Huff & puff, grunt and sigh... But before that you'd say: 'You've been a friend, fine, come and dine'. Your scent makes no sense to the sensible scenes of sanity's descent. Why can't I forget you?, was it the aroma of your lotion?. Oh love breathes I sniffed that potion. Of course I had to sneeze coz I’ve always believed in caution before emotion. As sailors say; crying a river won't you get you any fish _ well you're one I'd never let off the hook. I was cold when you shook. I never knew love by the book. Foolish women having been wise about men, I'd steal their advice like a crook. But now you're gone and all those memories you took. Go on at your back I won't look. Sail on by, I've said long bye. Now shine on high coz' you've found fools who **** and don't make love with style. It's all flair when it's fair *** fate be just you'd be my ex. But I never had the heart to axe. 0k then X, dark forces best not hex, you're on true love's list next. XOX
Continue reading...
8
A hundred feet off the ground, I'm just at the edge of the cliff, All I need is a gentle push, A nudge would do, maybe even A touch of your fingertips on my skin, Galvanizing the deeply rooted body hair, And only when I'm suspended midair Do I realize that it's a long way down Cutting across the sultry breeze, Overwhelming and intimidating, So I flap my arms against the wind, So I breathe deeply before the vast Ocean welcomes and immerses me And I holdfast my respiration, Lest the water clutches my lungs Attempts to suffocate and drown me, Just two feet above when I look Around, and I find that I'm not Falling in love alone.
0
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 4:16 PM UTC
Falling
Light of all lights Tremendous treasure Wonderfully bright Cyclical measure Beams of a king Twinkling center Warmth that stings Biological inventor Thermal life Luminescence east Day full of strife A temporary lease Slow red death Cold setting west Heated breath Winter's chest Constant burn Behind the clouds Orbital churn Of planets round Certain tomorrow Brand new start Galvanizing glow Insulated heart Father and mother Nature and crown Scorching lover Setting down Brightest eye Plasma sphere Radiant blue sky Violent veneer
0
Jan 10, 2021
Jan 10, 2021 at 6:35 AM UTC
Sun Light
Where are you from mind to mother Are you from the tree of ether midnight lover Mauve and green, and the timber of autumn chill Chattering, wait a minute it's winter in green Care to oblige, into my world, wondering who's it from To the effect, it's a phenomenon in the embers of eclipsed Make a couple throws, and roll with the scientist of the cusp of miss emerald You look like a girl, maiden to the concurrent countess stealing a glance from her Siamese cat Let it be, and little are we ready to not believe that, die on the silver scent Where's the feeling at and the inevitable morning reeling out, the perfidy of digressing The breaking bread and reading takes to the herd, kindly The wine ages with time and death take the darkness away Edging on the time is like living life on every way of integrity Schizoid of the psychoanalysis of the treasonable civilian, here on myrhh Running away from you never took more gusto, the fact ain't lying A thousand men fighting and flowing Specs of the dust like a hurricane, moving just because they can Galvanizing with the woods, I'd sit with my underground chair with burning papers Burning with the recession, the economy was on page Were we in prized papers? The value of money and the sleepers, in clean ruses and jackknifes killing the heathens Truth with the people told us of better times Hitherto, this is just our choice, within the entropy, outside we are in frames within
0
Aug 4, 2019
Aug 4, 2019 at 9:09 PM UTC
Winter In Green
I am spread, thin, wide. I am cracked open. I am arrested, ecstatic, deathless. Snapped forever back and forth. A split-moment frozen mid-vibration expanded to create the illusion of T I M E So we can tell ourselves the story of how we fell in love, savor the format, and attempt to sort the hurtling chaos The galvanizing understanding that the lines and boxes we draw are for fun because you and I have always been one for milllenium we are mycelium. You and I, are ooze and rabbits and molten lava and sweat cascading from bodies in earnest singing through the single downbeat of everything happening all at once. Existence is a period. but the story slipped between the lines will still be sung.
0
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 1:46 AM UTC
Story
I became sprung on a man’s humongous hammer, lost in its immense length and strength, its brilliant dimensions of sheer exhilaration creating amazing poetry in my head, how it sways back and forth like a Yo-yo, so appetizingly adventurous, a smooth swirl of sweet nectar overflowing in my mouth, all compellingly delicious. I cherished the power of a man’s stimulating sword, how delicate and soft it was, how it grew hard and ripped, upbeat, exuberant seas of deep dreams, so lurid and lyrical, tasteful consonants and syllables, voluptuous verbs grooving with various gerunds, galvanizing metaphors and similes, brick beats so lit and sick, such a savage **** a hood **** so thick and juicy, steaming streams so serene, luscious liquid filling me up with blazing lust.
0
Oct 27, 2020
Oct 27, 2020 at 8:22 PM UTC
Humongous Hammer
I live back always on my day 7 years aged and the day I was made. From my bed I hear the phone ring, The kitchen echoed the strike of a match Cigarette, the smoke scent sounds my alarm I knew who was on the other side, I tried, it just didn’t work, those were different times The teacher, the bearer of School, antagonist I knew the result, he tore into my room lifting me from my bed by my hair nothing between me and the strap thrown stomach to the ground, peering under the dresser storm windows placed behind for summer storage the glass revealed my reflection my eyes were wide, and I gazed into myself, Lost in my head eyes growing strong and, in my mind, “Nothing last forever” His holler fads into the background, This was far from the first, but this day I became aware deep into my eyes. light flashed through my body on the first blows strike And I turned the intended pain to galvanizing pleasure. Reflecting in the glass, the impact recoiled the small body from the floor, and I am stronger, “Nothing last forever” Not a tear dropped, not a blow felt, I’m bigger than pain, aged 7 years The day I was made. Now I can take any anguish, and everything passes. This glorious life and my time laden in adventure All from the day I was made.
0
Apr 19, 2020
Apr 19, 2020 at 8:29 AM UTC
The Day I Was Made
His touch was still on my fingertips, smooth, sweet, smashing, harmonizing, a mountain of spinning intellect, precise perimeters, his swag game dripping all over the city streets, heart-thrilling beats, spine-tingling songs, a booming galaxy moving across the stunning landscape. I dreamed of his dark skin moving so serenely over my body, pulling me into his cradle of galvanizing inventions, grand lands – rich, wide as tall buildings, twirling me into tantalizing dimensions, nuzzling the nape of my neck, whirling me inside his basement of sun-bright rhymes, drawing me further into his amazing attractiveness.  Sizzling steam rising in the midst, creamy consonants covered in Hershey chocolate, enveloped in whipped cream, the taste of his lovable lips leaving luminous feelings upon my soul, sparking the streets of my eternal seas.  I envisioned his divine desirability swirling me around and around like a rocking roller coaster, vivid vibrations running through my cells like rush-hour traffic, unraveling the many layers of my labyrinth, leading me towards a spaceship filled with innumerable dreams.
0
Jun 16, 2019
Jun 16, 2019 at 12:40 PM UTC
His Touch
Two hundred forty two (12.1 score) years ago countless stripling soldiers strapping farming homeboys healthy agrarian lads raised among generations in summer re: offspring original settlers heirs family acreage encompassed wide uninterrupted forested swaths across sprawling vistas sparsely populated enclaves, now heavily industrialized lovely bones occupying unmarked never known graves buried amidst avast cleft rapacious urbanization long forgotten innocent youths hailing within then bucolic Montgomery, Delaware and Chester county forsook their young precious lives voluntarily promising sons risking life and limb more often former versus latter sacrificing stripling flesh encompassing urbanized tracts quite familiar to yours truly suddenly made aware unbeknownst till yesterday informative literary handiwork titled "A Glimpse of Freedom" engagingly written by Douglas Shupinski details innocently naive country bumpkins sacrificing potential sweat of brow, albeit grueling labor fostering holistic existence transforming boyz to men hardened green soldiers into battle weary fighters regarding, kickstarting, envisioning inchoate cause named freedom emancipating fledgling America against British throne awareness percolates, perturbs, permeates psyche synchronizing, manifesting, galvanizing how past historical events within close proximity, where I mostly resided since birth, now experience absorption, communion, edification... with dead souls nearly deathly quiet only most perceptive can detect!
0
Jul 8, 2019
Jul 8, 2019 at 6:04 PM UTC
Replete with Colonial Army spirits
Two hundred forty two (12.1 score) years ago countless stripling soldiers strapping farming homeboys healthy agrarian lads raised among generations in summer re: offspring original settlers heirs family acreage encompassed wide uninterrupted forested swaths across sprawling vistas sparsely populated enclaves, now heavily industrialized lovely bones occupying unmarked never known graves buried amidst avast cleft rapacious urbanization long forgotten innocent youths hailing within then bucolic Montgomery, Delaware and Chester county forsook their young precious lives voluntarily promising sons risking life and limb more often former versus latter sacrificing stripling flesh encompassing urbanized tracts quite familiar to yours truly suddenly made aware unbeknownst till yesterday informative literary handiwork titled "A Glimpse of Freedom" engagingly written by Douglas Shupinski details innocently naive country bumpkins sacrificing potential sweat of brow, albeit grueling labor fostering holistic existence transforming boyz to men hardened green soldiers into battle weary fighters regarding, kickstarting, envisioning inchoate cause named freedom emancipating fledgling America against British throne awareness percolates, perturbs, permeates psyche synchronizing, manifesting, galvanizing how past historical events within close proximity, where I mostly resided since birth, now experience absorption, communion, edification... with dead souls nearly deathly quiet only most perceptive can detect!
Continue reading...
54
Magical moments that capture the heart Captivating and breathtaking Of a whimsical nature Her beauty and personality are galvanizing She possesses a strong wit Fierce and courageous each day Along with a will to succeed And be excellent in every way
0
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 1:30 PM UTC
Magical Moments That Capture The Heart