"initiates" poems
She'll come to you, you don't have to go to her.
She initiates the dates and puts up with the waits,
As you always seem to arrive "fashionably" late.
And say you want to get her in bed, that's a piece of cake.
She doesn't even put up a wall for you to break.
It's just so easy for you to take, take, take.
It's just too easy to not appreciate.
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 3:46 AM UTC
did you know
that the
self effulgent light
of God it self
is **** shaped
as above so below
the inner revelation
******* above...light woven
*** hole below ...flesh woven
does this not infer
a magical operation
perhaps a hermetic
ritual of adoration
perhaps a puja
to the ****
with ornate
kaleidoscopic mandalas
replete with wrinkles
and folds
emerald toilet bowls
silk *** wipe
with full color florals
to be ingratiated
by **** art prints
and to be fussed over
and judged
by certified *******
clergy
then to cleanse
with fragrant ointments
that it may remain
unsullied by its
birthing labors
voluptuous
smoldering
fecundations
for purities sake
as god remains
free of limitation
it too
must remain
free of its forgetful
tarnished children
i build temple of ****
high above the people
the little *****
do they
even know
where they come from
how they may
devote themselves
to the grandeur
of the solar ****
and its bestowals
of clumpy torpedoes
the catechism
of the solar ****
to know
to adore
to prostrate
to proselytize
the glory of ****
to the
for corners
of the earth
to be faithful
unto it
to be obedient
and present
your *******
for ritual manicures
by the true initiates
the fussy
******* faeries
those who have
the secret knowledge
and remain true
to the lore
and precepts
set forth
of divine correspondences
to fully appreciate
its eminence
its glory
and have no
God before it
that mercy
will follow them
all the days
of there lives*
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 8:35 PM UTC
Man builds up a castle
With his own hands
He is the creator
Of everything on this land
Then why does he create
A castle so unguarenteed
Into it, he initiates
People because of his greed
Who don't know about the cracks in the castle
About the flaws it has.
It starts to drizzle
The drizzle becomes rain
The rain becomes a violent storm
And then people run in vain.
The castle melts away
With it, it takes away lives
It was the creator's fault
That no one survived
The creator will pay now
For the castle he built in greed
Even when knowing the cracks and faults
Now he will pay for his deeds.
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 9:02 AM UTC
Older boys telling younger boys “bad” jokes is part of the traditions in schools, much as the guardians of Elite Schools might deny it…here’s something that happened in the 1960s, and perhaps before too, and perhaps always….
*“Who’s the best person to marry
when you’re grown up?”*
asks the Senior boy
(with his double entendre)
in the shed behind the canteen
three juniors shrug their shoulders
and then one ventures: “Marry a traffic cop?”
“No,” answers the Senior
*“Never marry a traffic cop
cos at the crucial moment she’ll say: ‘HALT!’”*
Some boys laugh, one or two innocents scratch their heads
“I’ll marry a doctor,” says another
“Yeah?” says the Senior
*“At the crucial moment
she’ll be saying: ‘OK -
you can put on your clothes now!’”*
Now the juniors laugh;
they are getting wiser
but still an innocent says:
“I’ll marry a bus conductor”
“Oh no, no,” says the boy Senior
“She’ll be insisting: ‘Ticket, please! Ticket, please!’”
*“I’ll marry Susan at the canteen
where she makes the best
sandwiches for all those who hunger,”*
says the boy, obviously from a very charitable home
“No, no,” says the Senior. *“She’ll be roaring:
‘Who’s next? Who’s next? Who’s next?’
And you’ll have all the men
within three miles
queuing up at your doorway!”*
The juniors have gotten too smart now
Nobody offers any other possibilities
But innocents die hard
and there’s one last little boy:
“I’ll marry my teacher!”
“Well, isn’t she the best,” says Senior
*“for at the crucial moment,
she’ll be saying:
‘Do it again! Do it again!’”*
Now, the boys enjoyed it all; the girls never heard it, except when they married these initiates…and all the eminent people in the professions have been none the wiser…
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 6:49 AM UTC
Sleepless, tired every day,
working for hours no one remembers,
daylight and moonlight don’t get a say,
her clock is her own she says,
queen of night, her struggle initiates,
raise our hats to every hardworking girl.
Her eyes tell the story,
of how they broke the rules of sleep,
sky commands world to witness the sunrise,
humanity rises and she falls asleep,
even in dreams her spirits don’t rest,
Nights don’t dare touch hardworking girl,
Bags under her eyes and still she won’t quit,
goals and dreams always chasing,
still she creates time to help a ******
he humbly praises God for her being,
touches every soul she ever meets,
words are too small for that girl.
Some say she is a myth,
around every corner I find her,
shies away strongest metal on Earth,
fire so severe of determination,
I now weep in her praise,
story of every woman, this hardworking girl.
Apr 22, 2020
Apr 22, 2020 at 11:07 AM UTC
I don't think you get how difficult this is for me. Do you?
At home, I can never be alone, always around my family because they are convinced I am a danger to myself and they have to keep constant watch over me. It's more like I'm trapped. I do not feel cared for, or loved (even though they do) but it feels like a prison where privacy and solitude no longer exist.
On campus, I cannot be myself. This writer, poet, loner, silent girl who only speaks to people who seem decent or whom initiates a conversation because she is too scared to do it herself. This insecure girl who must now change to acquire friendship, company. She only wants to be liked, accepted, and to belong. **** on Wednesday, clubbing, flings, shisha. I do not understand why it takes so much to have a friend that would stay. I smoke, and that would be the limit, but my loneliness begs for so much more.
In public, I want to just shout out who I am and who I could really be. I want to walk up to strangers and spark up a conversation of similar interest. Ask how they're doing, or if their family is well. Let them know I could be their friend and allow them to cry on my shoulder about the trauma they've been through. But I cannot. No one smiles when I smile at them, they only walk faster and turn their heads away. Why is it that simple acts of kindness or just friendliness can be such a disgusting and rare thing?
When I'm alone, I can be myself. I can cry and shout and sing and write and dance and do stupid things. I can smoke and laugh and scribble and put on make-up and take selfies while no one's watching. I can be at my worst, and I can be my best when I'm alone. It's a blessing and a curse but it's solitude which I treasure so much.
It's funny how much I crave companionship; a friend, a partner, a love interest. Yet, I wish to be alone. Why is that?
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 9:39 PM UTC
Ever get that feeling where there's so much to say
But then you pick up your pen and bring out your notebook
And you just sit there, and fail to write what it is you even wanted to say?
That's how I feel whenever I write about you
And it's so discouraging because it seems that there is so much flowing through my mind whenever I fail to keep my thoughts anywhere else but you.
It's because she is everything
All that goes on in my head before writing even one line is simply just you
Those booming voices, blissful delusions, ignorant realizations, unwelcome ****** recollections of long-ago, humorous admiration,
It's because she is everything
Yes, you are everything.
Everything I think about, everything I dream about, everything I talk about, everything I write about, everything
And I really don't think that that's fair, my love.
That is why I strive to be your everything.
Yes, I want to be the one that creates those booming voices in your head
I want to be the one that makes you have those blissful delusions
I want to be the one that initiates you to make those ignorant realizations
I want to be the one that brings those unwelcome ****** recollections of long-ago
to you
And I can go on and on about everything that just the thought of you does to me
But I dare not waste your time any longer
Because the way I feel could be sufficiently expressed in any moment-no matter if I'm miserable, infuriated, ecstatic, or anything- by just two words.
You're everything
And I bet that that's the reason why at times it seems there's so much to say, when in reality there really isn't a need for it.
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 9:49 PM UTC
Glitterati Gangsters gaze
with commanding stares
and broken plates glass blown and open gates
There she sits eyes
all holding
all knowing
synchronicities shatter the scene
Sparkling
each blink initiates a flood of flaming diamonds
that lash out like hot irons
Eyes like this entice and take
Each blink unlocks a new mystery
as she grinds resistance in her teeth
Igniting my lust
Sparkling
each blink creates a dawning sun
Her gaze inflames ten thousand ways
She wields sparkle
like madmen spray sarin
With sparkling abandon
Jun 19, 2012
Jun 19, 2012 at 8:11 AM UTC
A trilogy of love: bared, shared, pared
Lust's shallow wave: crests, cascades, crashes
Deeper, emotive swells: rise, rumble, release
Conflicting currents form rip tide: tugging, tossing, tearing
Amor's undulating rhythms pulsate
Low tide, latent fantasies surface ego to ingratiate
High tide, a endless churning of desires our longing cannot satiate
Libidinous breakers scour lecherous bottom; a brackish foam doth emanate
In the deeper recesses of our minds, a rational connection percolates
From the depths, a heart-felt ****** rises; a growing bond initiates
Two, constant minds mutually sharing space; each hope, dream resonates
Surface tension increases; two hearts mount each obstacle, common course navigates
Nearing balmy shore, strong winds of indifference blow
Into eroding channels untested lovers unwittingly row
Selfish goals drag the unstable pair into the undertow
Corrosive fears, unmitigated doubts sever trust placing love in escrow
Sep 16, 2011
Sep 16, 2011 at 4:58 AM UTC
Dissected brilliance
Admissible propositions
Sculpted resilience
Destructing predispositions
Initiates our purpose immensely
Criticism gives it's crucial effect
For the better, accordingly
It's for us to detect
Why? we ask throughout
Our incompetent delusion
Through our endless bout
Here, take your conclusion
"Why" is a sensational question
Dissects mind's interest
Releases its compression
Yet we remain among the belligerent
This answer prolongs
Through your eyes only
In our hearts it belongs
Don't persevere your phony
Bring back your trophy
-Joseph B Schneider
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 1:48 AM UTC
Eli tossed the ****** novel aside; a radical tale
of painters in the far future when paint itself
would be illegal; arms dealers, drug traffickers,
*** workers gathering in dark interstellar holes
bored into passing comets & orbiting meteors
docking illegally at satellite ports & unloading
chemicals frozen into place by the artists
who can never let their identities be known;
all colors on earth are registered & trade marked
by the Beast's Corporation & so Space Art is
highly sought & lucrative but lethal as it can
made to explode w/ enough energy & radiation
to leave a small planet barren for millions of years;
the Beast is reasonably worried as Space Art, or
Action Painting [after the ancient school] is wildly
popular & traded openly for billions of dollars;
the Beast may be able to keep everyone stupid
& greedy but Art liberates them into heights of
ecstasy & kindled wisdom; freedom of thought
the last frontier no one suspected & so abrogated
their intelligence & imagination to fembots
who pump their heads full of colorful action sequences;
the illegal paintings too stiff, just stand or lean
& look back at one w/out blinking
& the female-computer-network unable to bear the silence,
initiates automatic shut-down of itself; femportals
abandoned on stations where the painted images
projected on microcells to the clandestine buyers,
spread as an unseen mist through the various
artificial environments;
the distant star paint miners
smoking up a storm & using steam-powered
fembots
to mine for their oil & charcoal;
Eli putting on the kettle for tea,
thinks about the fembots in the novel & calling a **********
demands she not speak; the girl arriving naked in stockings
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 8:38 PM UTC
A lonely snowdrop initiates the dance
out in the woods on the bare ground
they emerge, one by one
as shooting stars on a highway
they embroider a blanket of white serenity
to embrace spring and greet her once again
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 11:28 AM UTC
Remember when we
Confided in each other
Laughed at the
Shallowness of society?
And as the days went by
My feelings
Our feelings for each other
Grew stronger
And we confessed.
I recall how
Warm and red
My face was.
We were so close,
You were the only true friend
I had.
I trusted you,
Loved you.
And once upon a time
I was sure you did, too.
But what happened?
Did I say something wrong?
Or did your fickle mind
Simply grow bored
Of this pathetic, desperate girl
With a warped view of the world?
Because now
We barely talk
And I'm always the one who
Initiates a conversation
That always ends so abruptly.
Can we go back to
What we used to be?
Best friends,
Nothing more?
I'm not asking for romance,
I long gave up on that.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 8:41 AM UTC
An abandoned room with a desk full of papers,
A burial site of a teenage unrequited love story.
The dried up pens retired from long hours of cheap labor,
The waste basket choked on raw emotional infatuation.
Cracked, broken picture frames lie helplessly on the floor,
A thousand words without complete sentences.
The light bulb revoked the spotlight on the show,
The stage crew gave up on cutting out paper butterflies.
The microphone, still turned on, awaits for a solo,
Tapping for an approval initiates a spark of interest.
"Testing, testing, testing."
The breath of a hopeless romantic heaves a sigh of relief.
"I'm back, everyone," I announce.
"Embrace the love wounds because I am free."
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 6:54 AM UTC
you are the cigarette i pull out of the box every other evening
after fourty-six and five thousand strides, three underpasses
and one last pedestrian crossing
as with the cigarette, i look forward to you, look forward to
the high derived from the very presence of you
of your enigmatic entity misting through my lungs like
a sick, heady liaison akin to that of beer and smoke
but as with it which stubs out before the junction of bartley
relinquishes within me a curt perspiration, a heightened vision
you ravel my walk, desiccate my lips, augment a melancholy
that after muddy fields and an overhead bridge
initiates yet another discretion away from blurry headlights
as with the two sticks, tuesday and friday
five~, but only in selected amity
you leave traces of tobacco and filter paper
grinding between my newly dentalised set
as the zephyrs of the monsoon season **** against the spark
the bitter aftertaste of something so wrong, accompanied by
the warmth in cold of something so right
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 2:34 PM UTC
Pulse echoing in the hollow canal of my ear,
A sweet, persuasive sound that initiates the craving,
I want to taste you in the sickest of ways,
Like itchy centipede legs discovering the back of your throat,
A discomfort only a thousand sips could quell,
I’d like to think I could resist,
I know better; I’m only realtime flesh,
Slowly rub your cheek against my chin,
I’ll dip my nose into your neck and use my tongue to caress each striation,
Until I can taste the carotid reaching toward the holy switchboard,
My jaws will not be denied, closing vehemently,
Penetrating the silky dermis, ragged vents meant to pourpourpour
Vital lifeblood and sustenance out into useful globs of passive alertness,
You are a beautiful, tormented creature in which I can bear to look at no longer.
I cannot see you as you are meant to be, I am deluded and biased..
Sent to realize truth, only to find no definitive,
I will relish bringing about your end as much as my own.
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 4:13 PM UTC
the familiar sting
fills my nose
initiates the numbness
at ease, at ease
to give in is to lose
the remainder of my innocence
but am I so innocent
to have anything left to lose
weakness comes
in all shapes
and sizes
but invisibility only comes
in one shade
and there is only one door
to escape out of
so I write on my hand:
this is redemption
in permanent ink
so when I wake up tomorrow
groggy from the lines
cut on my biology textbook
I will remember
natural light only comes in
if the shades are pulled up
and the window is open
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 12:45 AM UTC
As the crow flies south from capital city
With soaring moonshine he coasts into synchronicity
Highways below dissolve into forgotten whispers
Like a rear view mirror sees only memories in its disappearing
Visual ****** initiates and fills this polychromatic cruise
Starting with a quiet historic ruse
Contesting over which of the two
echo shadows for optical repeal
the many leaves of kaleidoscope hues
That keep a running legacy since time before our time
and / or
Buried horizon from endless layers of skyward hills
Hills that have been storing a primitive foundation for the growing of substructure foliage in order to be able to drop its petals and leaves
Resolve is left with the one true and unbiased impartial decider...
the wind
to form a fair measure of mediation
From the human view
All are merely a preview for the impromptu quest
In an attempt to catalyze foreshadow and paint memory for the drive out west
To approach from afar
The destination appears to be a resting
shape of an antiquated location
splashed with opaque aromas,
sensory weaving visuals,
and
Melodic tones of nostalgic definition
Emitting vibrations of soothing tremolo that quiver throughout the body
this multi-strip string of singular select shops
Is the alignment initiative in the countryside
forecasting a manifest
for the hazy occasion
Anointing inspiration over the heartland’s artland
That nearly only hope,
could create
Invisible snows sprinkle over roads like a magic red carpet of threaded tranquility in its coat
Enticing, Welcoming, and Lighting up this neck of the west
And opening into the
Woodland Hills of Little Nashville
———-—————————————-——————————
Oct 3, 2019
Oct 3, 2019 at 6:10 PM UTC
The palm tree and the star,
...are always found together.
The branch and seed of man,
...bound by some secret tether.
All initiates in the mysteries,
...elicit a truth they find.
The palm tree and the star,
...are not just another sign.
Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 4:44 PM UTC
Every body Knows that the Population of the Human is increasing every day.
In the Year 2016, the Global Human Population was estimated as 6.9 Billion approximetely. The Human Population increased upto 7.6 Billion approximately in the year 2017.
The total human population of the world is sharply increasing day by day. The birth rate of the Human Population is approximately 15,000 man every hour. While the death rate of human population is 6316 man per hour. The birth rate and the death rate of the total global population is as per data available in the year 2017.
This data clearly shows that human population in the world is increasing approximately 14,400 human every hour in the world.
Now it is a well known fact that every individual human is possessed of individual Soul. In other words, it can be said that every individual human needs one Soul.
Now as the Human Population is increasing at the rate of 14,400 human per hour. It means that 14,400 humans are being added to the total Human Population per hour. So by necessary implication it can be presumed that new 14,400 new Souls are also added to human population.
Just for example , let us assume that there is a room , where three people are sitting. Every man needs one cloth. If one people is being added each hour in the room, then certainly one extra cloth is needed each hour.
Now the question which perturbs my mind is that human population is increasing by Biological process of procreation. Then do the Soul also procreate?
It is said in the religious text that the Soul never indulge in ****** activity. Then it is a matter of surprise, how the new Souls are being generated for added human population?
What is the process of increase in population of Human Souls. Human Soul and Human Body is separate. By ****** activity, two human individual (a male and a female) give birth to a new human body but do not give birth to a Human Soul. It is said that when one ***** successfully penetrates the **** then the process of formation of an embryo begins. But it never initiates the process of formation of new human Soul.
When the Soul enter into the embryo from Spirit World, there is small spark in the Spirit World. This has been explained by Yogananda Paramhansa. It is clear that Soul is different from body. So has been claimed by Lord Krishna in Geeta. Body perishes but Soul is eternal. Thus Soul is different from Human Body.
As each human body requies a Soul, then increasing human Population also requires increase in population of Soul. The Human Body increased itself by ****** activity of procreation , then Question arises, how do population of corresponding human Soul is increasing?
Is it like that the Soul also procreate? Is that the Soul also indulge itself in ****** activity??
Religious Text deny such explanation. Then how the increasing demands of new Souls for increasing human population are being met by the God?
This can also not be said that Soul of animal, plant or bird are being converted into the Human Soul. This can only be possible when the total population of plant, animal and birds should proportionately decrease, corresponding to increase in human population. But there is no such evidence.
Then this question remain to be answered, as to how the the Human Soul population is increasing as per the demand of increasing population of Human. Do Soul procreate or there is any other process of formation of Soul? Do Soul multiply itself like Amoeba or like a cell? This is the question which is a matter of debate and evidence.
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 3:13 AM UTC
Next to my son's anger
plate tectonics are nothing
to me. His unhappiness
was caused by me.
His purpose and mine
is to catch photons and
store them in our bones.
Time measures change
which continues without
self-doubt. There is no self.
Therefore, why care about
my son's anger
or my guilt?
Why do we have imaginary
numbers anyway?
The imaginary i allows us
to find solutions to many equations
that do not have real number solutions.
It is actually common for equations
to be unsolvable in one number system
but solvable in another:
—with only the counting numbers, we can’t solve x+8=1; we need the
integers for this!
—with only the integers, we can’t solve 3x-1=0; we need the rational
numbers for this!
—with only the rational numbers, we can’t solve x2=2; enter the
irrational numbers!
—and with only the real numbers, we can’t solve x2= -1;
we need the imaginary numbers for this!
Is it possible as Deutsch
suggests that the changes
a self-aware organism can
applying the scientific method
instantiate are innumerable
compared to those of the sun or any big bang?
Therefore, one must care
about the harm you've done
or the good you'd do.
"Death initiates a complex process by which the human body gradually
reverts to dust
but minerals may fill the cracks and voids, bonding the hydroxyapatite
and allowing the bones to join . . ."
in the happy tectonics
of the earth's plates.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 4:36 PM UTC
Guinevere and Lazarus,
hiking down the forest,
following the torrential rain.
A humble squirrel makes eye contact
initiates touch
love crumbs.
Days go by,
he can't stop thinking about the humble squirrel.
What did he give him?
Lazarus,
alone.
Bearing the torrential rain.
Minute by minute by minute,
searching for the squirrel of love.
A green mist clouds a lonely house on the hill.
Who better to inhabit it, than the love squirrel.
He's there, he's there, he's there.
He knew.
Closer and closer he came,
he heard tiny steps,
a scratch of wood.
He felt his gaze on him.
But where did it come from?
Lazarus' in all grey,
His sweatshirt sticking to his skin.
He glanced forward for a second
smoothing his hair back as rain dripped off,
down to his face.
Their eyes met.
Passionately.
Closer and closer they became,
the sound of le mal du pays resounded in Lazarus' heart.
Did he feel it too?
he wondered.
magnetic,
touch.
only music to fill the space between them.
Lasting only a second,
as he opened his eyes,
the grass where the squirrel stood to hug him
had left a shape.
Not knowing his name,
he went back home.
To Guinevere.
May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 8:50 PM UTC
*we inscribed poems on each others souls
in ink at first
but ink did not touch the magnitude of our love
so we wrote in the wettest kisses
and snaky tongues
undulating pink spells
but still we needed more
we wrote with the unguents from our *****
and while it was as lush as paradise
still, we craved
so we wrote in pain and blood
we suffered for each other
and at each other's hands
we drank each other's tears
consumed each other's emptiness
till arteries darkened
and our life force
ran through each other's veins
like vermilion claret
until we died each other's deaths
and felt the shadow of each other's ancestors
and then we fell in love again
transformed
true initiates of adoration
and everything each other
a rapturous yoga
fused like thrice folded metal
living silent incantations
ethric urns
burning
gold frankincense and myrrh
enshrined in the heavens
rapturous mouths
in a tangle of kisses arcadian.
May 16, 2017
May 16, 2017 at 7:21 PM UTC
It initiates its attack with a fiery assault to the chest
Showering the heart with acidic downpour
The disease spreads slowly into the victim’s bloodstream
Making it boil with envious hatred
The eyes become a permanent squint of mistrust and hostility
Skin begins to change with a bright, green spectacle
Canines are bared in horrible snarls
The person’s speech becomes bitter and low
Consisting mostly of cusses and speeches of negativity
Infectious jealousy runs rampant
And in no small part to that horrid sickness
The Emerald Virus
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 5:50 PM UTC
*Thee invoke Thee
The Lord God
to forge union with the Lord of Light and Darkness
Holy art Thou
The
Lord of the Universe...
the underlying emanation
animator of creation
formless, self effulgent
that i may fuse my Soul
with the Eternal Born-less One
my third eye a deafening blaze
transfixed on nuclear inner light
as my wife tries on a top at Macy's
i stand before a full length triptych mirror
entranced, scrying
staring at my reflection
an imminence white light figure
gossamer radiant expanse
emerges
and towers above my head
its feet planted
in my skull
my cranium its foot pillow
sight in its feet
my eyes its wires to the world
and the cold fields of ego
immobilized
disambiguous
thoughtless
its instrument subsumed
the voice of higher self
said unto me
*Let yourself enter the Path of Darkness
and peradventure
there shall you find the light
I am the only being in an Abyss of Darkness;
From an Abyss of Darkness came i forth
ere my birth
from the silence of a Primal Sleep*
And the voice of ages answered unto my Soul:
*I am he who formulates in Darkness
the Light that Shineth,
yet the Darkness comprehndeth it not*
as i heard my wife call out
"oh honey i like this one"
i whispered to my self
in breathlessness
*I invoke Thee,
the Terrible and Invisible God
who dwelleth in the void place of the Spirit
and in barbarous tongues of fire
i vibrated sonorous
the arcane names of The Infinite
that only initiates mouth like mad men
en-flamed
and called unto Him
make all Spirits of the firmament
and of the Ether
upon the Earth and under the Earth
on dry land and in Water,
and of Whirling Air
and of Rushing Fire
and every Spell and Scourge of God
obedient unto me*
my wife appeared
newly adorned
in a summer blouse
the color of Spanish walnut
asking hi honey
what do you think?
o yeah i nod
i love your new blouse
oh my god ,
on sale, you say
only $49. 95
such a deal.
Chinese for lunch ?
Moo goo *** pan
oh yes please
my favorite
she smiled*
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 3:42 PM UTC