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PrttyBrd Feb 2015
No marble stare as cold as ice
Can be found inside your gaze
For it is there that heart's desire burns twice
And your eyes set me ablaze

Hazel hues of wanton need
Make my cheeks flush crimson red
And make my deepest parts take heed
As you lead my love to bed
❤❤
You see me as a vision
An angel of your very own
Through a tarnished crooked halo
A pair of horns has grown
❤❤❤
Still, you see in me perfection
In fact, I am your missing piece
And I pray with everything I am
That your love will never cease
21115
I love the way you see me
Muse Aug 2022
Aphrodite have I done you so wrong

That you enamore me in loves somber song

Yet leave his holy heart unignited

Cursing me with burning affection unrequited

Why allow me to be denied Anteros

And Eros strike me so cruelly with arrows

That I must make Philia to be enough

When what I desire fervently is his fleeting love

I see now goddess that I you must truly despise

For you sent forth Phobos and Deimos to terrorize

Until I found my heart to be ragged and maimed

Still for their sake I find myself acting as if it's the same
Taylor St Onge Oct 2013
Lips like shards of broken glass
like bittersweet Narcissus and
the remains of a once-proud Egypt.
A faulty cupid’s bow
a sinister smirk of Himeros—

I mistook you for Anteros.  A
simple mistake;
three letters off
three words lost in translation
a declaration with no apparent meaning.

New age romance, my dear,
is all for naught.
wounded puppy love at its finest.
SMP Sep 2012
Himeros has struck me down ,
My heart weeps, clawing and crawling,
longing for you,
unrequited,
alone.

How I long to touch you,
to feel your skin against mine,
twisting and calling.
Please dear Persephone,
Come home to me.

Hear me call to you.
return my love?
Hold me close,
just say you love me once before you leave.
Just love me once my dear,
then break my heart.
Hold me once,
then leave me cold.
Claim me once,
then forget my name.

My magic does not work on you.
My lovely little soldier,
My aristocratic model,
My long lost dream.
idgaf
Leydis Jun 2017
El amor lo vale todo,
El amor lo espera todo,
El amor lo exige todo,
El amor lo entrega todo.

Mas el amor no te puede robar
tu paz interior, tus anhelos,
la mujer salvaje que llevas dentro,
el hombre voraz que fluye en tu interior.

El amor no te deja con hambre-el amor sacia.
El amor humedece, no puede vivir en aridez,
por eso en el desierto no crecen rosas, sino cactus.

El amor no es incógnita, es claro como el agua.
El amor resucita aun muera en diez mil batallas!
El amor crea en medio del desastre,
Sabe transformarse como un camaleón si es necesario.

Existen esos amores inmortales,
mas es muy difícil tener un amor ÁGAPE…
ese amor puro del cual habla la biblia.
Posiblemente el amor que tiene una madre por su cría.
Talvez es el amor que tuvo Cristo-para decidir entregar su vida.

Tu y yo….bueno…vivimos en el EROS y HIMEROS!
Y no me avergüenzo de tener un amor carnal y errático como el nuestro.
Un amor que padece, que sufre, que espera-devorase en cada entrega.
Desquiciarse hasta que se perturbe la Luna,
pues tiene tiempo que nadie la posee.

Esos volátiles besos mojados donde volvemos verde la tierra,
llenos furia,
excitación,
rabia,
locura desbordada,
despilfarrada,
nadando en las aguas violentas y apacibles de nuestra saliva ardiente,
que nos reposa en vértices y cordilleras,  
para luego sumergirnos en los
variantes colores
de nuestro apasionado valle!

Talvez no es AGAPE,
mas nuestro amor no lo cambio,
aunque el mismo Dios me lo pidiera!!!!

LeydisProse
5/25/2017
https://m.facebook.com/LeydisProse/
Yash Jan 2020
Grey in Rainbow
Blood in capillaries
Gasp, oxygen
blood, turn blue.

Regular beat, relief
Racing car, Lightning McQueen
Anxiety, rush in Aorta
Dilute, soothe, disillusion.

Greek gods, medusa´s eye
Stone sculpture, eternal
Laid bare, ****
Draw me french.

Hands, save thy dignity
clutch the *****
oh my pearls
roll over eyeballs, curses.

Put a paper lantern
over your eyes.
Put your tinted glasses
rose coloured view.

Finger on the pulse
trigger, don't shoot
don't want 49 dead
progress, fear strikes back.

Hoot hoot
the clock strikes 2.02.
Rise up from your bed
you winged sucker.

Vampire, drink your fill
no limit but 6.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 greetings Charon
One coin to River Acheron.

Oink oink
little swine you are.
Pigman, hold your cleaver.
Pig blood, Carrie´s revenge.

****** red, sacrifice Jauhar
Euphrosyne´s joy, Euphoria
River Phlegethon, the path to Tartarus.
Cocytus, bathe me in Lethe.

Hypnos, spare me.
Himeros, May it be
Aporia, Limos, Hedone
Meet Curae, Nosoi, Algea.

Phobos, I am scared.
This poem is about the fear of ***, specifically *******. The poem talks about how in different ways, *** is a thing that haunts and hurts him. From greedy pigs who just want *** to manipulative vampires who want to **** all life out of him. It also talks about how the shooting struck fear in him. The poem then uses refrences to the greek underworld to express his emotions.
Parable of the Seventh Dream: "Dreaming of Procorus in one night, in seven dreams from which he had risen, escorted by corporate forms to his entity and dichotomy, delirium between dreams that supported him from some naive cords in their candles, when they were almost extinguished in submission majolica. Thus inaugurated the flow of the Oneiro Greek dream, in a sanctuary of scope that refrained from rooting it from ballasts of human practices that were transmitted from Delphi, the birds flew ringed from their legs with the traverse of the sailors of Skalá, and with sacrificed deities in forms of prophetic reparations. More than seventh desires and tears to verify, more than an eager ardor to let him enter with the birds and insects that wanted to discard the subsisted dreams, each night like the one who sustained them under three-winged beings on the deck of the Iustitia and Eunomia, "Justice and Economy", in which they were accentuated more extensively in the places of those nights of converted hallucinated visions..., that compiled sexuality of words that lavished cells in their own appeal, for advances of obfuscation and between-dreams that were fertilized between yes, retro feeding on unwanted daydreams.

Raeder, appears covered in washed-out colored amphibians with his pelican Petrobus, right in the monastery's electrical discharges, they devoid and null in effect before their inter-cells, of which only compressed air entered them. They used to manifest fecundities of species without being pre-fertilized of the gamete gene, not loading them with empty chromosomes, neither in the previous hymn, nor joyful dirge by the temple of Aphrodite in Megara. With the first two dreams (Peithó), the persuasion of the Mashiach was magnified primitively among all, with the wheels of existence turning in their garlands with the (Paregoron) of undivided consolations for preconceived territories, of (Himeros) in ******-neophyte anxieties that they were refounded with the trio-reveries of the foothills of Mount Latmos, divided into three segments, to finally rush into the longings (Pothós) that differed from their own names in each entelechy, in beneficial moral props and not, but in the face of a defining ploy, alongside Aphrodite and Megara's siege.

Of all the dreams that were transformed into other dreams, and that did not bloom stained or embryonated, they were absolutists in identical cloning and with the disdain of sleepiness that became guests of third parties, such as early development and parasitic mysticism, creating sixty-four instars. unfertilized in the bundle of their ethics results, to be delivered to Raeder, to be transferred to Vernarth's receptacle. Having in their interior amphibians and resident birds of the new auroras, they opened towards the sky in sixty-four calls from the new vital assistance. Procorus awake after seven dreams, each time he went with more splendor and temperance in pro-art ogival devices, which were lightened in the tips of his semi-awake fingers, and in the recondite count that was presented with clovers of maximum sublimated power between healed rales lacones, from a nucleus and its greatest pleas over-cloning one after another in quantum rhythm, after the dreamlike and somatic fantasies of the cycloid thirds of normality, protected by illusions of animal consciousness that were perfected by ultra harmony..., attached to Procorus.

(Procorus awoke when he saw that the birds forgot to fly and the animals to walk, running strongly to the north side of the magnetized monastery, to dream them of other delays that awaited him for gifts of creation not consummated, bringing on him all the surfaces of the humanity, in sordid fossilized sedimentations with one hand reaching for everything and poking around everything, bringing back the seven dreams again to dream them again, leaving all the doors and senses of creation wide open)
Parable of the Seventh Dream
Al Grant May 2020
As a child, enthralled by smoke
my mind-controlled by the
chief priest of vestal virgins
to guard over the fire
sentenced to keep the flame
and its elements remain
in Perpetuum.

it goes away, but like cancer
it came back; into my soul.
The gate of irony came crashing in
after celebratory kisses from Himeros,  
and flows of Smirnoff

Now with age
after a couple of decades
mists, clouds, and storms are
puffing out my mouth
— and nose.

— The End —