"morsel" poems - Hello Poetry

"morsel" poems

He watched pleasure enter her eyes Sensations of pleasure leaving her mesmerized Sweet screams, wet dreams, message disguised Moans escape as bodies magnetized his hands glued to her thighs as she sighs Fingers soaked in wet; juicy juices drip tongue eclipsing glistening lip; slow licks Her body, his vessel; selfish Serving each other relentless Breathes escaping each other Tangled together, bodies ravished Every morsel of one another sandwiched Finger, Licking, Good. ~Delicious~

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Mar 5, 2018

Mar 5, 2018 at 6:17 PM UTC

He watched pleasure enter her eyes Sensations of pleasure leaving her mesmerized Sweet screams, wet dreams, message disguised Moans escape as bodies magnetized his hands glued to her thighs as she sighs Fingers soaked in wet; juicy juices drip tongue eclipsing glistening lip; slow licks Her body, his vessel; selfish Serving each other relentless Breathes escaping each other Tangled together, bodies ravished Every morsel of one another sandwiched Finger, Licking, Good. ~Delicious~

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Elated to see you aloft in the night sky To what do I owe this enchanted boon. In the merry company of winking stars, Enthralled by this sight as I admire my moon. Bathe me in your streaks of translucent silver. Accompany me through my sleepless nights. Watching over me with unwavering vigil. Swathe me in whispers of peaceful respite. Oh how you govern the raging tides of my soul. Rest your gaze as the waters break upon my shore... Erode and weaken the load strewn over my burning shoals, Sands drowned breathless but craving for more. Few nights now... Smitten as you coyly turn away. Thick strands of shadow clad hair in gentle cascades, Alluringly obscuring a slight fraction of your face. A tiny crescent blanketed away; into the blackness it fades. More nights pass... Now I see only a lesser moon Leaving me with only half; darkness so had claimed. Please make yourself last; you mustn't leave too soon, I'm not ready to be left crippled and maimed. I silently look up as more nights go by. I watched my lunar love dissolving into space. My heart too, torn away a morsel at a time... Finally she had gone; without a sliver or a trace. Every nightfall since is rife with emptiness and despair. I asked the stars if they could soothe my gaping void... But they'd only twinkle in indifference... Regardless of the pleas I've employed. Unsure of how many rises it has thus been. Nights only brought the onslaught of mocking stars above. Still I toy with the promises made overhead, For the awaited return of my crazed elusive love. I know it's frivolous to think I'm the only one... There are others who pine just as I do. But I yearn the most for your sought after attention, For our hearts have sung in every colour and every hue. Anxiety at peak, dismayed almost broken, Then I hear a sweet song sung; distant and far. A song that shared the words we once had spoken, Again enveloped in translucent silver, with relief I sighed..., "There you are..." .

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Oct 21, 2014

Oct 21, 2014 at 9:03 AM UTC

Elated to see you aloft in the night sky To what do I owe this enchanted boon. In the merry company of winking stars, Enthralled by this sight as I admire my moon. Bathe me in your streaks of translucent silver. Accompany me through my sleepless nights. Watching over me with unwavering vigil. Swathe me in whispers of peaceful respite. Oh how you govern the raging tides of my soul. Rest your gaze as the waters break upon my shore... Erode and weaken the load strewn over my burning shoals, Sands drowned breathless but craving for more. Few nights now... Smitten as you coyly turn away. Thick strands of shadow clad hair in gentle cascades, Alluringly obscuring a slight fraction of your face. A tiny crescent blanketed away; into the blackness it fades. More nights pass... Now I see only a lesser moon Leaving me with only half; darkness so had claimed. Please make yourself last; you mustn't leave too soon, I'm not ready to be left crippled and maimed. I silently look up as more nights go by. I watched my lunar love dissolving into space. My heart too, torn away a morsel at a time... Finally she had gone; without a sliver or a trace. Every nightfall since is rife with emptiness and despair. I asked the stars if they could soothe my gaping void... But they'd only twinkle in indifference... Regardless of the pleas I've employed. Unsure of how many rises it has thus been. Nights only brought the onslaught of mocking stars above. Still I toy with the promises made overhead, For the awaited return of my crazed elusive love. I know it's frivolous to think I'm the only one... There are others who pine just as I do. But I yearn the most for your sought after attention, For our hearts have sung in every colour and every hue. Anxiety at peak, dismayed almost broken, Then I hear a sweet song sung; distant and far. A song that shared the words we once had spoken, Again enveloped in translucent silver, with relief I sighed..., "There you are..." .

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Look, you dumb ***** you did it again! Going like this, you'll never be thin. You can't eat a morsel, not one bite. It's too much grief, you know it's not right. Look at yourself! Grabbing handfuls of fat! Nobody wants to be around that. Break every mirror, skip every meal. Only then will you be skinny for real.

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Oct 10, 2014

Oct 10, 2014 at 7:30 PM UTC

Look, you dumb ***** you did it again! Going like this, you'll never be thin. You can't eat a morsel, not one bite. It's too much grief, you know it's not right. Look at yourself! Grabbing handfuls of fat! Nobody wants to be around that. Break every mirror, skip every meal. Only then will you be skinny for real.

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When listen about date of exam Feelings got high and uncalm Being company of books inevitable Now condition of students deplorable Having pressure smacking clock fatuously Yawning and laziness offing continuously To see books again and again become petulant But thinking about exams it takes dissentiment! Due to exams sleep devoured Neither subject nor weather favoured Time ate to last morsel the pleasure And to do best alter one's nature Pretending today's work to next day Lastly purge to get something we have to pay!!

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Nov 17, 2014

Nov 17, 2014 at 1:19 PM UTC

EXAMINATION PHOBIA

When listen about date of exam Feelings got high and uncalm Being company of books inevitable Now condition of students deplorable Having pressure smacking clock fatuously Yawning and laziness offing continuously To see books again and again become petulant But thinking about exams it takes dissentiment! Due to exams sleep devoured Neither subject nor weather favoured Time ate to last morsel the pleasure And to do best alter one's nature Pretending today's work to next day Lastly purge to get something we have to pay!!

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Twelve o’clock. Along the reaches of the street Held in a lunar synthesis, Whispering lunar incantations Dissolve the floors of memory And all its clear relations, Its divisions and precisions, Every street lamp that I pass Beats like a fatalistic drum, And through the spaces of the dark Midnight shakes the memory As a madman shakes a dead geranium. Half-past one, The street lamp sputtered, The street lamp muttered, The street lamp said, ‘Regard that woman Who hesitates towards you in the light of the door Which opens on her like a grin. You see the border of her dress Is torn and stained with sand, And you see the corner of her eye Twists like a crooked pin.’ The memory throws up high and dry A crowd of twisted things; A twisted branch upon the beach Eaten smooth, and polished As if the world gave up The secret of its skeleton, Stiff and white. A broken spring in a factory yard, Rust that clings to the form that the strength has left Hard and curled and ready to snap. Half-past two, The street lamp said, ‘Remark the cat which flattens itself in the gutter, Slips out its tongue And devours a morsel of rancid butter.’ So the hand of a child, automatic, Slipped out and pocketed a toy that was running along the quay. I could see nothing behind that child’s eye. I have seen eyes in the street Trying to peer through lighted shutters, And a crab one afternoon in a pool, An old crab with barnacles on his back, Gripped the end of a stick which I held him. Half-past three, The lamp sputtered, The lamp muttered in the dark. The lamp hummed: ‘Regard the moon, La lune ne garde aucune rancune, She winks a feeble eye, She smiles into corners. She smoothes the hair of the grass. The moon has lost her memory. A washed-out smallpox cracks her face, Her hand twists a paper rose, That smells of dust and old Cologne, She is alone With all the old nocturnal smells That cross and cross across her brain.’ The reminiscence comes Of sunless dry geraniums And dust in crevices, Smells of chestnuts in the streets, And female smells in shuttered rooms, And cigarettes in corridors And cocktail smells in bars.’ The lamp said, ‘Four o’clock, Here is the number on the door. Memory! You have the key, The little lamp spreads a ring on the stair, Mount. The bed is open; the tooth-brush hangs on the wall, Put your shoes at the door, sleep, prepare for life.’ The last twist of the knife.

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8.2k

Rhapsody On A Windy Night

Twelve o’clock. Along the reaches of the street Held in a lunar synthesis, Whispering lunar incantations Dissolve the floors of memory And all its clear relations, Its divisions and precisions, Every street lamp that I pass Beats like a fatalistic drum, And through the spaces of the dark Midnight shakes the memory As a madman shakes a dead geranium. Half-past one, The street lamp sputtered, The street lamp muttered, The street lamp said, ‘Regard that woman Who hesitates towards you in the light of the door Which opens on her like a grin. You see the border of her dress Is torn and stained with sand, And you see the corner of her eye Twists like a crooked pin.’ The memory throws up high and dry A crowd of twisted things; A twisted branch upon the beach Eaten smooth, and polished As if the world gave up The secret of its skeleton, Stiff and white. A broken spring in a factory yard, Rust that clings to the form that the strength has left Hard and curled and ready to snap. Half-past two, The street lamp said, ‘Remark the cat which flattens itself in the gutter, Slips out its tongue And devours a morsel of rancid butter.’ So the hand of a child, automatic, Slipped out and pocketed a toy that was running along the quay. I could see nothing behind that child’s eye. I have seen eyes in the street Trying to peer through lighted shutters, And a crab one afternoon in a pool, An old crab with barnacles on his back, Gripped the end of a stick which I held him. Half-past three, The lamp sputtered, The lamp muttered in the dark. The lamp hummed: ‘Regard the moon, La lune ne garde aucune rancune, She winks a feeble eye, She smiles into corners. She smoothes the hair of the grass. The moon has lost her memory. A washed-out smallpox cracks her face, Her hand twists a paper rose, That smells of dust and old Cologne, She is alone With all the old nocturnal smells That cross and cross across her brain.’ The reminiscence comes Of sunless dry geraniums And dust in crevices, Smells of chestnuts in the streets, And female smells in shuttered rooms, And cigarettes in corridors And cocktail smells in bars.’ The lamp said, ‘Four o’clock, Here is the number on the door. Memory! You have the key, The little lamp spreads a ring on the stair, Mount. The bed is open; the tooth-brush hangs on the wall, Put your shoes at the door, sleep, prepare for life.’ The last twist of the knife.

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shred, dash, drop, pinch, soupçon, jot, iota, whit, atom, smattering, scintilla, hint, suggestion, tinge, a modicum of good works, my endeavor, to serve and deliver, man's bounty of good words from my kitbag, fresh, hot, n' crusty just like me.... Hello Poetry! Feb 2014

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Feb 12, 2014

Feb 12, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC

particle, speck, fragment, scrap, crumb, grain, morsel,

shred, dash, drop, pinch, soupçon, jot, iota, whit, atom, smattering, scintilla, hint, suggestion, tinge, a modicum of good works, my endeavor, to serve and deliver, man's bounty of good words from my kitbag, fresh, hot, n' crusty just like me.... Hello Poetry! Feb 2014

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In the mixing bowl thou hast perfected praise. Conforming to your mould, your flaky crust begins to rise. Steamy and buttery out of the oven, you make my life chill, when the morsel of butter enters the blueberry canyon to have its fill Chemically inducing nirvana, a world in the eye of God, blueberry bursts of epic epicness down my throat you trod. In my stomach you swim, my friend. "It is not good for muffin to be alone," pop goes the cherry muffin to join you, and in swims a blueberry clone. Nom nom nom.

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Mar 24, 2014

Mar 24, 2014 at 5:54 PM UTC

Ode to Blueberry Muffin

In the mixing bowl thou hast perfected praise. Conforming to your mould, your flaky crust begins to rise. Steamy and buttery out of the oven, you make my life chill, when the morsel of butter enters the blueberry canyon to have its fill Chemically inducing nirvana, a world in the eye of God, blueberry bursts of epic epicness down my throat you trod. In my stomach you swim, my friend. "It is not good for muffin to be alone," pop goes the cherry muffin to join you, and in swims a blueberry clone. Nom nom nom.

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close your eyes… let your light lids become heavy like falling asleep in a bed of soft dreams. quiet your mind with a deep inhale.... breathe with me, and hold for a simple moment cleanse your mind with a firm exhale. Focus purely on your breath. Breathe with me. (take three sets of deep breaths) imagine no thoughts that bother you ignore the noise that follows your foot steps, the little buzzes of every day, like fruit flies orbiting succulent peaches let the noise fly away like those flies, far away Let go of those days where you find yourself worried… there is nothing to hold onto that worries you. you are a strong, magnificent, worry free energy, clean and sparkling. Relax, Envision your mind as a porcelain sink, and the drain in the center pulls all the noise away, until there is nothingness, emptiness. let the darkness behind your eyelids engulf you... it is warm, it is inviting, it is loving in this darkness... there is light. See and feel this ball of radiant light ripping through the black that tickles your skin like pins and needles the most beautiful light you’ve ever seen... be humble... this is your love manifested into an image that presents itself to you to show you all the love that your heart holds it beats into your blood, your veins, your energy, every inch of your physical, your mental, your soul... feel that smooooth, delicate love swim through every morsel of your being, it gives us light... it gives us life. ... Create an intention… what do you want most? Or perhaps, what do you want to give? What do you… as nobody else but yourself… want to embody? (take a few moments to gather and intention) take a deep inhale... (inhale) upon exhaling, release this intention into the universe... everything you give will come back. Let this intention become an extension of yourself this is you, and you are this. Now this part of you, the gentle intention, is part of the universe. and you… are part of the universe. thank the cosmos for caring about your mind, body, and spirit, and giving you this galactic love as you release yours, and the cycle continues on and on... feel the warmth of love kiss you tenderly, let it swallow you and hold you tightly, like a cosmic mother. you’re an infant again... in the arms of something divine, feeling pure bliss, like happiness is the only emotion that exists. happiness becomes organic, it is the ultimate source of life... happiness becomes the light, and combines itself with love, making the most beautiful offspring of purity and salvation. Inhale.... Exhale.... you are new, you are love let it run like a tranquil river from every one of your pours hear the liquid love follow the current of your mind’s creek.. hold your intention in your heart, and let it radiate let yourself be light let yourself be love. inhale... exhale... © 2016 D.M.V

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Nov 18, 2016

Nov 18, 2016 at 3:40 PM UTC

Anahata Meditation (Heart Chakra)

close your eyes… let your light lids become heavy like falling asleep in a bed of soft dreams. quiet your mind with a deep inhale.... breathe with me, and hold for a simple moment cleanse your mind with a firm exhale. Focus purely on your breath. Breathe with me. (take three sets of deep breaths) imagine no thoughts that bother you ignore the noise that follows your foot steps, the little buzzes of every day, like fruit flies orbiting succulent peaches let the noise fly away like those flies, far away Let go of those days where you find yourself worried… there is nothing to hold onto that worries you. you are a strong, magnificent, worry free energy, clean and sparkling. Relax, Envision your mind as a porcelain sink, and the drain in the center pulls all the noise away, until there is nothingness, emptiness. let the darkness behind your eyelids engulf you... it is warm, it is inviting, it is loving in this darkness... there is light. See and feel this ball of radiant light ripping through the black that tickles your skin like pins and needles the most beautiful light you’ve ever seen... be humble... this is your love manifested into an image that presents itself to you to show you all the love that your heart holds it beats into your blood, your veins, your energy, every inch of your physical, your mental, your soul... feel that smooooth, delicate love swim through every morsel of your being, it gives us light... it gives us life. ... Create an intention… what do you want most? Or perhaps, what do you want to give? What do you… as nobody else but yourself… want to embody? (take a few moments to gather and intention) take a deep inhale... (inhale) upon exhaling, release this intention into the universe... everything you give will come back. Let this intention become an extension of yourself this is you, and you are this. Now this part of you, the gentle intention, is part of the universe. and you… are part of the universe. thank the cosmos for caring about your mind, body, and spirit, and giving you this galactic love as you release yours, and the cycle continues on and on... feel the warmth of love kiss you tenderly, let it swallow you and hold you tightly, like a cosmic mother. you’re an infant again... in the arms of something divine, feeling pure bliss, like happiness is the only emotion that exists. happiness becomes organic, it is the ultimate source of life... happiness becomes the light, and combines itself with love, making the most beautiful offspring of purity and salvation. Inhale.... Exhale.... you are new, you are love let it run like a tranquil river from every one of your pours hear the liquid love follow the current of your mind’s creek.. hold your intention in your heart, and let it radiate let yourself be light let yourself be love. inhale... exhale... © 2016 D.M.V

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his writing caught everyone’s attention like an artist i once saw on the street in québec he stood out amongst the crowd in montréal i asked to take his picture he obliged this writer is also canadian and paints masterpieces with words his colorful lines sometimes float on jagged edges brushes of sticky sugar coating are exchanged for starker strokes of reality tinged with weathered wisdom creating shadows in his work accentuating the light there’s not a write of his that does not stir emotions his words linger rolling around in your head bumping into each other morphing into new connotations his easel alive you wonder if he did that on purpose? could anyone have that kind of talent? yes…..his brush continues flowing even after the paint is dry suddenly at midnight i awaken and hear another morsel a word, a phrase, a color that only made itself known in the dark of night understanding he's a favorite i imagined audibly hearing a collective sigh when he contracted cancer would he now leave his canvas dry? no, this courageous artist bravely took his palette and continued painting his words that us awaken now e’vn more radiant with tragedy astride and ‘tho he talks of dying i pray that he will stay but should his spirit fly we have seen a master show us how to walk into the light ©2016janetaylor

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Jun 7, 2016

Jun 7, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC

R.I.P Chris Vaillancourt (repost of walking into the light)

his writing caught everyone’s attention like an artist i once saw on the street in québec he stood out amongst the crowd in montréal i asked to take his picture he obliged this writer is also canadian and paints masterpieces with words his colorful lines sometimes float on jagged edges brushes of sticky sugar coating are exchanged for starker strokes of reality tinged with weathered wisdom creating shadows in his work accentuating the light there’s not a write of his that does not stir emotions his words linger rolling around in your head bumping into each other morphing into new connotations his easel alive you wonder if he did that on purpose? could anyone have that kind of talent? yes…..his brush continues flowing even after the paint is dry suddenly at midnight i awaken and hear another morsel a word, a phrase, a color that only made itself known in the dark of night understanding he's a favorite i imagined audibly hearing a collective sigh when he contracted cancer would he now leave his canvas dry? no, this courageous artist bravely took his palette and continued painting his words that us awaken now e’vn more radiant with tragedy astride and ‘tho he talks of dying i pray that he will stay but should his spirit fly we have seen a master show us how to walk into the light ©2016janetaylor

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*she said being a feminist i have forsaken the temples of normalcy for dark gratifications and base seduction and discovered that those who know the pleasures of objectification and frenzied ****** lucidity with strangers are wiser then the children of sweetness and light as marriage betrays the need to satisfy secret dark labyrinths desire and in its place repeats ad nauseum blunt fortitudes in dim sunless rooms for fear of the transgressive satans *** nail is conventions essential creed exhaustions hand maid rendered imagine-less bereft of the new until a mere stand in for true desire is left like a starved ghost on a dead moon a desiccated morsel left for a hungry mouse is romantic marriage a poetic conception by love starved victorian imbeciles vanquished in increments by petty spats of blood and thunder who know not the joys of the whips blood toothed kisses purgation's brutal sensuality and a creel of ramming butter **** gang bangs in secret fetish gardens of cries and coos that leave the *** wilted and the soul lite like a butterfly in heaven slave girl asks as hips sway to sacred dionysian storms in the smoldering pangs of the heart as backs writhe and arch flex and sweat rhapsodic and viscera panic with desire are not such delicious degradations pleasures ravage despicable cause for an ecstatic celebration kindling fiery vapors incense en-flamed dragons blood for drooling kisses that talk in tongues in a language that everyone understands infinitly preferred over the rolling eyes of disapproval in the tepid marriage bed*

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Feb 26, 2017

Feb 26, 2017 at 5:48 PM UTC

Slave Girl Rhapsody

*she said being a feminist i have forsaken the temples of normalcy for dark gratifications and base seduction and discovered that those who know the pleasures of objectification and frenzied ****** lucidity with strangers are wiser then the children of sweetness and light as marriage betrays the need to satisfy secret dark labyrinths desire and in its place repeats ad nauseum blunt fortitudes in dim sunless rooms for fear of the transgressive satans *** nail is conventions essential creed exhaustions hand maid rendered imagine-less bereft of the new until a mere stand in for true desire is left like a starved ghost on a dead moon a desiccated morsel left for a hungry mouse is romantic marriage a poetic conception by love starved victorian imbeciles vanquished in increments by petty spats of blood and thunder who know not the joys of the whips blood toothed kisses purgation's brutal sensuality and a creel of ramming butter **** gang bangs in secret fetish gardens of cries and coos that leave the *** wilted and the soul lite like a butterfly in heaven slave girl asks as hips sway to sacred dionysian storms in the smoldering pangs of the heart as backs writhe and arch flex and sweat rhapsodic and viscera panic with desire are not such delicious degradations pleasures ravage despicable cause for an ecstatic celebration kindling fiery vapors incense en-flamed dragons blood for drooling kisses that talk in tongues in a language that everyone understands infinitly preferred over the rolling eyes of disapproval in the tepid marriage bed*

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Look into my eyes and you shall see The innocence and solitude in me I am all alone in this massive ball No one to pick me when I fall Touch my body and feel The absence of countless meals I have dug into several bins To find a morsel from trashed tins I have slept on cold hard grounds A better place, still not found I was soaked by the pouring rains And disturbed by noisy trains I have played with broken dolls Drawn with charcoal on overfilled walls I have prayed to all the gods I know Their love makes my soul glow I am a child too Don’t deprive me of you Cuddle me in your arms A little crave for love means no harm I know I am an orphan And might not even get buried in a coffin But don’t shoo me away so recklessly Where is your humanity? Don’t throw that money and walk away Please hear me out or for a while just stay If you know of an orphanage, take me there I no longer want to live in despair. -Zainab Attari

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May 7, 2014

May 7, 2014 at 3:55 AM UTC

Look into my eyes and you shall see The innocence and solitude in me I am all alone in this massive ball No one to pick me when I fall Touch my body and feel The absence of countless meals I have dug into several bins To find a morsel from trashed tins I have slept on cold hard grounds A better place, still not found I was soaked by the pouring rains And disturbed by noisy trains I have played with broken dolls Drawn with charcoal on overfilled walls I have prayed to all the gods I know Their love makes my soul glow I am a child too Don’t deprive me of you Cuddle me in your arms A little crave for love means no harm I know I am an orphan And might not even get buried in a coffin But don’t shoo me away so recklessly Where is your humanity? Don’t throw that money and walk away Please hear me out or for a while just stay If you know of an orphanage, take me there I no longer want to live in despair. -Zainab Attari

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I live in the basement, never venturing upon those stairs, I hear her voice... "Come up and see me its been to long, Holding my ears singing my favourite song repetitively until she is drowned out of my thoughts. rocks tied to her voice as it sinks out of view. I use the stairs that open to the outside, Lingering looking at this place I called home. Venturing in the old ford, she lets me drive it when food is but breadcrumbs and eggs old enough to birth the dead fetes of a partly grown bird. I look out though a ***** window screen, this trip takes two hours each way. I always wonder if my bald tyres are ever noticed, but I'm not hindered by the thoughts of this. So much to see when driving in solitude. I stop at the side of the road picking cherries, I slump them in the boot. I may eat upon this morsel or just hang them outside watching them swaying in the gentle breeze. My father just looks out the window. Doesn't talk much these days his eyes are sunken like the titanic splintered between two pools. I move his chair and his arm falls at his side. collecting it, I put him palms resting on a blanket He's so gaunt now, he was a strong man now but a shadow. I look at those cherries lingering above the ground, shaded from just picked to becoming spoilt, but i just leave them swaying the aroma fills lungs with life's eroding perfume, I breath it deeply within. This is my home, "she never calls me for dinner anymore, I just make my own, the washing up is festering in my ignorance, like a garden of petrification flowering. Saying bye to my dad, I get in the old ford. Its time to pick some fresh cherries, the tree is looking unkempt. Its blossom is in honour of a mother, I hang them all there. My Mother hung there for a long time ,but she's long gone. So I bring other cherries to the tree to show that she'll never be forgotten....

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Apr 30, 2017

Apr 30, 2017 at 8:47 AM UTC

Cherries Hang Loosely From The Tree

I live in the basement, never venturing upon those stairs, I hear her voice... "Come up and see me its been to long, Holding my ears singing my favourite song repetitively until she is drowned out of my thoughts. rocks tied to her voice as it sinks out of view. I use the stairs that open to the outside, Lingering looking at this place I called home. Venturing in the old ford, she lets me drive it when food is but breadcrumbs and eggs old enough to birth the dead fetes of a partly grown bird. I look out though a ***** window screen, this trip takes two hours each way. I always wonder if my bald tyres are ever noticed, but I'm not hindered by the thoughts of this. So much to see when driving in solitude. I stop at the side of the road picking cherries, I slump them in the boot. I may eat upon this morsel or just hang them outside watching them swaying in the gentle breeze. My father just looks out the window. Doesn't talk much these days his eyes are sunken like the titanic splintered between two pools. I move his chair and his arm falls at his side. collecting it, I put him palms resting on a blanket He's so gaunt now, he was a strong man now but a shadow. I look at those cherries lingering above the ground, shaded from just picked to becoming spoilt, but i just leave them swaying the aroma fills lungs with life's eroding perfume, I breath it deeply within. This is my home, "she never calls me for dinner anymore, I just make my own, the washing up is festering in my ignorance, like a garden of petrification flowering. Saying bye to my dad, I get in the old ford. Its time to pick some fresh cherries, the tree is looking unkempt. Its blossom is in honour of a mother, I hang them all there. My Mother hung there for a long time ,but she's long gone. So I bring other cherries to the tree to show that she'll never be forgotten....

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Ornery odious ordinate ostensive opulence ornate optimal Motivity meatus meticulous morsel moribund mendacity monstrance Lucidity lingam loquacity longevous licentious lurid languishing Votary volition verve venery vector vauntness vast Talismanically telepathy tantamount terrestrial tellurian transition tractive Idolatry -ics incus ictus ichor icon icky Yogi yowl yore yoni yerk yenta yantra Gimpy gesticulation genre gestational glitch genuflection grandiose Dastardly douceur denouement denigrational deplorable despicable desperate Paltry potentate portentous plagiaristic pandemic plenipotentiary plenary Jouncy jocular jeopardy jettison jurisprudence jaunt juxtaposition Ramify repartee radix recital rectitude rendition repertoire Beastly bartizan bodacious belligerent brusque blatant blasphemously Enmity exigency exacerbation extemporaneous edifice eulogy exoneration Zoolatry zoomorphic zilch Zephyr zoic zygosity zealotry Sultry solace subtlety substantiation suborn subliminal sensorium Unity ultimatum usurping unfathomable uncanny unbridled unary ***** hornswoggle horizon huckster homogeny holistic heuristic Nugatory notch nostrum notorious nihilism nimiety nimbus Wrathy wreak wroth wrought wrest wrangle warranty Artistry autonomy articulation agility acuity asperity acerbity Keeky kangaroo court kowtow kobold kleptomania kinetics kinesiology Xylography xenophile xerophilous xylophagous xylem xanadu xenobiotic Critically credibility critique coercion conjugational conjunctive corporeal Queasy quasi quantum quintessence quagmire quixotic quantify Flighty flippant flamboyance faux pas fornicatious fictitious finite

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Jan 22, 2013

Jan 22, 2013 at 5:31 AM UTC

toreinss-pinwinkel-iii

Ornery odious ordinate ostensive opulence ornate optimal Motivity meatus meticulous morsel moribund mendacity monstrance Lucidity lingam loquacity longevous licentious lurid languishing Votary volition verve venery vector vauntness vast Talismanically telepathy tantamount terrestrial tellurian transition tractive Idolatry -ics incus ictus ichor icon icky Yogi yowl yore yoni yerk yenta yantra Gimpy gesticulation genre gestational glitch genuflection grandiose Dastardly douceur denouement denigrational deplorable despicable desperate Paltry potentate portentous plagiaristic pandemic plenipotentiary plenary Jouncy jocular jeopardy jettison jurisprudence jaunt juxtaposition Ramify repartee radix recital rectitude rendition repertoire Beastly bartizan bodacious belligerent brusque blatant blasphemously Enmity exigency exacerbation extemporaneous edifice eulogy exoneration Zoolatry zoomorphic zilch Zephyr zoic zygosity zealotry Sultry solace subtlety substantiation suborn subliminal sensorium Unity ultimatum usurping unfathomable uncanny unbridled unary ***** hornswoggle horizon huckster homogeny holistic heuristic Nugatory notch nostrum notorious nihilism nimiety nimbus Wrathy wreak wroth wrought wrest wrangle warranty Artistry autonomy articulation agility acuity asperity acerbity Keeky kangaroo court kowtow kobold kleptomania kinetics kinesiology Xylography xenophile xerophilous xylophagous xylem xanadu xenobiotic Critically credibility critique coercion conjugational conjunctive corporeal Queasy quasi quantum quintessence quagmire quixotic quantify Flighty flippant flamboyance faux pas fornicatious fictitious finite

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Finite fictitious fornicatious faux pas flamboyance flippant flighty Quantify quixotic quagmire quintessence quantum quasi queasy Corporeal conjunctive conjugational coercion critique credibility critically Xenobiotic xanadu xylem xylophagous xerophilous xenophile xylography Kinesiology kinetics kleptomania kobold kowtow kangaroo court keeky Acerbity asperity acuity agility articulation autonomy artistry Warranty wrangle wrest wrought wroth wreak wrathy Nimbus nimiety nihilism notorious nostrum notch nugatory Heuristic holistic homogeny huckster horizon hornswoggle ***** Unary unbridled uncanny unfathomable usurping ultimatum unity Sensorium subliminal suborn substantiation subtlety solace sultry Zealotry zygosity zoic Zephyr zilch zoomorphic zoolatry Exoneration eulogy edifice extemporaneous exaserbational exigency enmity Blasphemously blatant brusque belligerent bodacious bartizan beastly Repertoire rendition rectitude recital radix repartee ramify Juxtaposition jaunt jurisprudence jettison jeopardy jocular jouncy Plenary plenipotentiary pandemic plagiaristic portentous potentate paltry Desperate despicable deplorable denigrational denouement douceur dastardly Grandiose genuflection glitch gestational genre gesticulation gimpy Yantra yenta yerk yoni yore yowl yogi Icky icon ichor ictus incus -ics idolatry Tractive transition tellurian terrestrial tantamount telepathy talismanically Vast vauntness vector venery verve volition votary Languishing lurid licentious longevous loquacity lingam lucidity Monstrance mendacity moribund morsel meticulous meatus motivity Optimal ornate opulence ostensive ordinate odious ornery

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Jan 23, 2013

Jan 23, 2013 at 5:48 AM UTC

toreinss-pinwinkel-iii

Iconoclasm Epithet

Finite fictitious fornicatious faux pas flamboyance flippant flighty Quantify quixotic quagmire quintessence quantum quasi queasy Corporeal conjunctive conjugational coercion critique credibility critically Xenobiotic xanadu xylem xylophagous xerophilous xenophile xylography Kinesiology kinetics kleptomania kobold kowtow kangaroo court keeky Acerbity asperity acuity agility articulation autonomy artistry Warranty wrangle wrest wrought wroth wreak wrathy Nimbus nimiety nihilism notorious nostrum notch nugatory Heuristic holistic homogeny huckster horizon hornswoggle ***** Unary unbridled uncanny unfathomable usurping ultimatum unity Sensorium subliminal suborn substantiation subtlety solace sultry Zealotry zygosity zoic Zephyr zilch zoomorphic zoolatry Exoneration eulogy edifice extemporaneous exaserbational exigency enmity Blasphemously blatant brusque belligerent bodacious bartizan beastly Repertoire rendition rectitude recital radix repartee ramify Juxtaposition jaunt jurisprudence jettison jeopardy jocular jouncy Plenary plenipotentiary pandemic plagiaristic portentous potentate paltry Desperate despicable deplorable denigrational denouement douceur dastardly Grandiose genuflection glitch gestational genre gesticulation gimpy Yantra yenta yerk yoni yore yowl yogi Icky icon ichor ictus incus -ics idolatry Tractive transition tellurian terrestrial tantamount telepathy talismanically Vast vauntness vector venery verve volition votary Languishing lurid licentious longevous loquacity lingam lucidity Monstrance mendacity moribund morsel meticulous meatus motivity Optimal ornate opulence ostensive ordinate odious ornery

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As I ponder, perplexed by the possibility Of a premature passing that may present itself to me I consider and calculate Though my conclusion may be crude That the finest fix for my fear is a feasting of food I munch on a morsel, my mouth making moisture Overwhelmingly open to offal and oysters I'd take them, temptation takes its toll Curiosity for calories that I can't control I'd have them, Hoover them, heck I'd hoard 'em But by now I believe it's basically boredom Not a necessity to nibble the nosh It's late I ate a plate at eight, I can wait my gosh No, I know there is no need To slurp on soup or scoff some seeds Only fatigue fuelling the feeling to feed Got to get to grips with this gross and grotesque greed Choking on choices, trembling in my chair Do I punt for the pudding, the peach or the pear? Selecting such seductive sweeties Or dealing with death, diets and diabetes? While I wonder and weep about what will win My insatiable starvation stumbles on a sin Not funny you'll find when you're finished and fat 'Cause in the kitchen on the counter there's a KitKat Four fiendish fingers fascinate the feeling So seductive, my senses soaring to the ceiling Try to meet it, cheat it, beat it, defeat it But what the hell, I don't care, I'll just ****** eat it.

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Aug 27, 2016

Aug 27, 2016 at 5:08 AM UTC

Starvation Alliteration

As I ponder, perplexed by the possibility Of a premature passing that may present itself to me I consider and calculate Though my conclusion may be crude That the finest fix for my fear is a feasting of food I munch on a morsel, my mouth making moisture Overwhelmingly open to offal and oysters I'd take them, temptation takes its toll Curiosity for calories that I can't control I'd have them, Hoover them, heck I'd hoard 'em But by now I believe it's basically boredom Not a necessity to nibble the nosh It's late I ate a plate at eight, I can wait my gosh No, I know there is no need To slurp on soup or scoff some seeds Only fatigue fuelling the feeling to feed Got to get to grips with this gross and grotesque greed Choking on choices, trembling in my chair Do I punt for the pudding, the peach or the pear? Selecting such seductive sweeties Or dealing with death, diets and diabetes? While I wonder and weep about what will win My insatiable starvation stumbles on a sin Not funny you'll find when you're finished and fat 'Cause in the kitchen on the counter there's a KitKat Four fiendish fingers fascinate the feeling So seductive, my senses soaring to the ceiling Try to meet it, cheat it, beat it, defeat it But what the hell, I don't care, I'll just ****** eat it.

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vanishing hope for consumption as a way of life obese children shovel pharmaceuticals down the throats of the infirm internally developing low-tone hymns relating to slow death by corporate greed – albino judicators pass melanin laws felonizing the populace perpetuating the proletariat while pontificating on the post 9/11 society – isolated rabble-rousers screaming at eggshell walls dislodge tacks holding together the fabric of American culture with ingrown and chewed fingernails flailing armies think back to trench warfare – robust midwives mediate heated discussions as the United Nations blindly support U.S. imperialism looking for kickbacks from energy companies globalization giving all humanity incurable S.T.D.’s – the last free house mouse bounds betwixt the ruins energetically sniffing the rubble seeking some small morsel to satisfy its hunger –

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Sep 23, 2015

Sep 23, 2015 at 12:49 PM UTC

vanishing hope for consumption as a way of life obese children shovel pharmaceuticals down the throats of the infirm internally developing low-tone hymns relating to slow death by corporate greed – albino judicators pass melanin laws felonizing the populace perpetuating the proletariat while pontificating on the post 9/11 society – isolated rabble-rousers screaming at eggshell walls dislodge tacks holding together the fabric of American culture with ingrown and chewed fingernails flailing armies think back to trench warfare – robust midwives mediate heated discussions as the United Nations blindly support U.S. imperialism looking for kickbacks from energy companies globalization giving all humanity incurable S.T.D.’s – the last free house mouse bounds betwixt the ruins energetically sniffing the rubble seeking some small morsel to satisfy its hunger –

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all the blood and violence awakened ferocious appetite for life a bright gleaming hunger on the edge of the knife every moment a juicy morsel born from strife

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Nov 18, 2009

Nov 18, 2009 at 2:48 AM UTC

all the blood and violence awakened ferocious appetite for life a bright gleaming hunger on the edge of the knife every moment a juicy morsel born from strife

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If I knew who I’d be by the last written line of this poem. If I knew who’d sway, besotted, beside me to lean in and catch the last word of our maundering sobhet; If this, I’d never have left my Beloved's company to begin with. I crawled wild-eyed from the depths of the inexplicable, cold embers of abandoned age, To go there. To go to the tip where the flame flickers and breath burns. The Beloved is the earth, my awareness, roots. If this, then love is the water flowing through the rock, drawn up the vine to fatten the grape. This drunken dance is a fruit harvest We fools are the wine makers. Who gets who intoxicated? Bestami Bayazid said, *"I am the wine drinker and the wine and the cupbearer I came for from Bayazid-ness as a snake from its skin. Then I looked and saw that lover and beloved are one I was the smith of my own self. I am the throne and the footstool. Your obedience to me greater than my obedience to you I am the well-preserved tablet. I saw the Kaaba walking around me."* I say, I arrived in this place two sunsets back but I did not have to travel to get here. The earth makes its way around the sun on my behalf. My journey is both a somber desert and a purling rain forest It is my pause that makes one or the other so. A hungry sparrow hops cautiously through bread crumbs strewn around a fat loaf of bread. The feast is on the table, our hands in our pockets, our mouths sealed shut, bellies full of hesitation, we circle the spread. Empty are the stores of those who Cannot sate their hunger for truth. The empty belly of a sparrow sees the universe in a morsel of bread So of what use is the whole loaf.

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Sep 25, 2014

Sep 25, 2014 at 8:57 AM UTC

phosphorimental

A Sparrow Eats the Universe (in Keeping with Derick Smith and his Poem "About Tomorrow")

If I knew who I’d be by the last written line of this poem. If I knew who’d sway, besotted, beside me to lean in and catch the last word of our maundering sobhet; If this, I’d never have left my Beloved's company to begin with. I crawled wild-eyed from the depths of the inexplicable, cold embers of abandoned age, To go there. To go to the tip where the flame flickers and breath burns. The Beloved is the earth, my awareness, roots. If this, then love is the water flowing through the rock, drawn up the vine to fatten the grape. This drunken dance is a fruit harvest We fools are the wine makers. Who gets who intoxicated? Bestami Bayazid said, *"I am the wine drinker and the wine and the cupbearer I came for from Bayazid-ness as a snake from its skin. Then I looked and saw that lover and beloved are one I was the smith of my own self. I am the throne and the footstool. Your obedience to me greater than my obedience to you I am the well-preserved tablet. I saw the Kaaba walking around me."* I say, I arrived in this place two sunsets back but I did not have to travel to get here. The earth makes its way around the sun on my behalf. My journey is both a somber desert and a purling rain forest It is my pause that makes one or the other so. A hungry sparrow hops cautiously through bread crumbs strewn around a fat loaf of bread. The feast is on the table, our hands in our pockets, our mouths sealed shut, bellies full of hesitation, we circle the spread. Empty are the stores of those who Cannot sate their hunger for truth. The empty belly of a sparrow sees the universe in a morsel of bread So of what use is the whole loaf.

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by rgpage in this late hour on a mid-august night the day's torturous heat now just a trace. with heaven's dark sky splattered star light bright and with the moon's help, how they now illuminate. naked to the night on a blanket she waits from a crystal flute she sips her wine. its acrid taste makes her body brace, and her silky skin to shine. our lady awaits anticipates the night of love to be, she's made her nest in secluded style away from prying eyes, alone in the night she patiently waits for her lover to arrive. her warm body bathes in the evening breeze eyes closed she lets her fingers roam, her half-erect ******* she'll gently squeeze 'til engorged with blood they flush fully grown. laying a hand to her most sensitive spot the cradle of life's onset if you will, her first finger eases itself into place, and deftly a second does follow. slowly and softly in clockwise rotation wishing it were her lover's trace; the effect was good with her hip's gentle motion her soul now wrapped in silk and lace. with quiet stealth on an old forest path her mate breaks out of the tall trees cover, spotting his sensual prey's silhouette naked and silent he slips toward his lover. feeling his presents her eyes slightly open towering above her as tall as the trees, she sees her muscular handsome young swain in time to see him drop to his knees. leaning in he gives her soft kiss' his hand tracks her ******* with a gentle lover's mirth, slowly and gently he brings her along, with a touch as soft as a feather's fall to earth. reaching forth and touching his face and gently pulling him down to her lips, they lightly touch then drift apart as he makes his way to her ******* and hips. the time is not urgent there's no wasted efforts, every inch of her skin he greets with a kiss, as a hungry lion studies his prey not a single sound made, nor morsel missed. seductively firm he leads her to ****** she honors his every wish and whim. knowing his every move leads to pleasure from pleasure to rapture time and again. as the moon crosses over making way for the day, and the star's disappear in the sun's early light. our lady awakens alone where she lay her mysterious lover is gone with the night…

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Dec 2, 2011

Dec 2, 2011 at 12:00 PM UTC

by rgpage in this late hour on a mid-august night the day's torturous heat now just a trace. with heaven's dark sky splattered star light bright and with the moon's help, how they now illuminate. naked to the night on a blanket she waits from a crystal flute she sips her wine. its acrid taste makes her body brace, and her silky skin to shine. our lady awaits anticipates the night of love to be, she's made her nest in secluded style away from prying eyes, alone in the night she patiently waits for her lover to arrive. her warm body bathes in the evening breeze eyes closed she lets her fingers roam, her half-erect ******* she'll gently squeeze 'til engorged with blood they flush fully grown. laying a hand to her most sensitive spot the cradle of life's onset if you will, her first finger eases itself into place, and deftly a second does follow. slowly and softly in clockwise rotation wishing it were her lover's trace; the effect was good with her hip's gentle motion her soul now wrapped in silk and lace. with quiet stealth on an old forest path her mate breaks out of the tall trees cover, spotting his sensual prey's silhouette naked and silent he slips toward his lover. feeling his presents her eyes slightly open towering above her as tall as the trees, she sees her muscular handsome young swain in time to see him drop to his knees. leaning in he gives her soft kiss' his hand tracks her ******* with a gentle lover's mirth, slowly and gently he brings her along, with a touch as soft as a feather's fall to earth. reaching forth and touching his face and gently pulling him down to her lips, they lightly touch then drift apart as he makes his way to her ******* and hips. the time is not urgent there's no wasted efforts, every inch of her skin he greets with a kiss, as a hungry lion studies his prey not a single sound made, nor morsel missed. seductively firm he leads her to ****** she honors his every wish and whim. knowing his every move leads to pleasure from pleasure to rapture time and again. as the moon crosses over making way for the day, and the star's disappear in the sun's early light. our lady awakens alone where she lay her mysterious lover is gone with the night…

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Ah! She's latina thigh Ice cream With shining blank Teeth, skin, and soul She gazes fiercely Though terrified At this sluggish life Her quiet cotton voice Stabs me in the chest Baby, take my blood Take my eyes And whatever morsel of soul You can **** from my body I'm on fire Forever burning lust Like gasoline For you I clench my fists And want to scream You are inspiring Honey, you look So good

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Sep 7, 2015

Sep 7, 2015 at 11:56 PM UTC

Ah! She's latina thigh Ice cream With shining blank Teeth, skin, and soul She gazes fiercely Though terrified At this sluggish life Her quiet cotton voice Stabs me in the chest Baby, take my blood Take my eyes And whatever morsel of soul You can **** from my body I'm on fire Forever burning lust Like gasoline For you I clench my fists And want to scream You are inspiring Honey, you look So good

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I felt a wave of love from the trees, Green in their growth and sweet in their fruit. I simply asked, "Would you help me wipe away this soot? The soot that clings to my heart and darkens all that should feel lovely." They said, "Come near and take a seat. Can you feel our roots growing beneath? Will you intertwine your breath with mine? And when you weep, will you touch the soil and feel our heartbeat?" To the giants of the land, I replied, "I can feel your love, know your knowledge, and see your vision. You are the serenity that bridges earth and sky, While I am but a morsel of your magic that will surely pass before you die. The power you possess in your filtering form Creates life for those who here are born. But I ask, who will you be when you return to the sacred place we all deeply yearn?"

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Apr 14, 2023

Apr 14, 2023 at 10:58 PM UTC

serenity grasped my hand on a Sunday morning

I felt a wave of love from the trees, Green in their growth and sweet in their fruit. I simply asked, "Would you help me wipe away this soot? The soot that clings to my heart and darkens all that should feel lovely." They said, "Come near and take a seat. Can you feel our roots growing beneath? Will you intertwine your breath with mine? And when you weep, will you touch the soil and feel our heartbeat?" To the giants of the land, I replied, "I can feel your love, know your knowledge, and see your vision. You are the serenity that bridges earth and sky, While I am but a morsel of your magic that will surely pass before you die. The power you possess in your filtering form Creates life for those who here are born. But I ask, who will you be when you return to the sacred place we all deeply yearn?"

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*oh i saw you my darling looking up at me bug eyed beauty in your spider web gift store waiting for a fly i felt so close to you like we where in love although you trembled at my immensity can you feel how much i care for you i blew my soft wind of grace like a souls supple kiss at your tendrilious daddy long legs i wept feeling your patience and hunger wanting you to know heart to heart that you could stay here with me as long as you liked that in you i felt the pain and the love of the world soul of every child and creature of every foreboding of every passion and cruelty and the terror of being eaten are we not the same you and i bound by desire, effort and destiny so spin your gorgeous web my pretty one may you know only kindness please stay with me i hope a fly comes soon that you may have a juicy morsel i love you little spider

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Sep 15, 2017

Sep 15, 2017 at 12:09 PM UTC

WAITING FOR A FLY

*oh i saw you my darling looking up at me bug eyed beauty in your spider web gift store waiting for a fly i felt so close to you like we where in love although you trembled at my immensity can you feel how much i care for you i blew my soft wind of grace like a souls supple kiss at your tendrilious daddy long legs i wept feeling your patience and hunger wanting you to know heart to heart that you could stay here with me as long as you liked that in you i felt the pain and the love of the world soul of every child and creature of every foreboding of every passion and cruelty and the terror of being eaten are we not the same you and i bound by desire, effort and destiny so spin your gorgeous web my pretty one may you know only kindness please stay with me i hope a fly comes soon that you may have a juicy morsel i love you little spider

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Not against the peaks of protest, these aurulent banners and jasperated jaspe so so jargoon! It's like I was suddenly alive, beat-stretched out of winter neige and into the pancosmic blisses of bright and ebullient spring, plugged with an agromania to abide this new formidable friend in the aeviternal beauty of she and I togetherness. Never to spill a morsel of a minute away from us again, upon the newly conjured spirits unto us both. To be amidst a cynosure of such affiation, to be in the temperate or tropical gardens whispering about our mutual love for flowers nad lists. This that precedes us, bright colliding auras in this newfound numinous kindling of us two. Watching it, making it happen- it unfolding before me made me naseaus with excitement, dithering what our next move out to be. I just wanted to kiss her face, her cheeks, put our hands together so quickly, just to let our amorous fug fill the room with silver albuminious smoke from our breaths. Miles below this, round the Earth to other places, there are the fixtures of bright and corybantic life commoved by other nations and other poised people of the light, that I should not be idle in my desires to usher myself into this grand and briguing introduction. So she said, we will play the question game, the inquiry game, we will state the mark, draw upon deep and fantastical recall, bring from our minds the most immense truths and share them, no matter now feral, or caustic, or melancholy- they will be shared until we explode with each other, our intrigues wrapped in our perfervid and amatory excitedness for one another. Too vast with wonder to be afraid of- am I such a fiend for such resplendence. That we could be vitrified in eternity in a veil of fulgurite. So at this nightfall, this acronychal of bloviating bliss, to write and wonder, incessantly in the finest of provincial matters to settle this garden where Thetis lives to be of her, two philocalists in verdant pasture, heaped with matters of the pen and the palm, in the droves of this beautiful advesperating eve- where first I wrote to you, and then I wrote you back.

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Apr 26, 2014

Apr 26, 2014 at 5:15 AM UTC

Not against the peaks of protest, these aurulent banners and jasperated jaspe so so jargoon! It's like I was suddenly alive, beat-stretched out of winter neige and into the pancosmic blisses of bright and ebullient spring, plugged with an agromania to abide this new formidable friend in the aeviternal beauty of she and I togetherness. Never to spill a morsel of a minute away from us again, upon the newly conjured spirits unto us both. To be amidst a cynosure of such affiation, to be in the temperate or tropical gardens whispering about our mutual love for flowers nad lists. This that precedes us, bright colliding auras in this newfound numinous kindling of us two. Watching it, making it happen- it unfolding before me made me naseaus with excitement, dithering what our next move out to be. I just wanted to kiss her face, her cheeks, put our hands together so quickly, just to let our amorous fug fill the room with silver albuminious smoke from our breaths. Miles below this, round the Earth to other places, there are the fixtures of bright and corybantic life commoved by other nations and other poised people of the light, that I should not be idle in my desires to usher myself into this grand and briguing introduction. So she said, we will play the question game, the inquiry game, we will state the mark, draw upon deep and fantastical recall, bring from our minds the most immense truths and share them, no matter now feral, or caustic, or melancholy- they will be shared until we explode with each other, our intrigues wrapped in our perfervid and amatory excitedness for one another. Too vast with wonder to be afraid of- am I such a fiend for such resplendence. That we could be vitrified in eternity in a veil of fulgurite. So at this nightfall, this acronychal of bloviating bliss, to write and wonder, incessantly in the finest of provincial matters to settle this garden where Thetis lives to be of her, two philocalists in verdant pasture, heaped with matters of the pen and the palm, in the droves of this beautiful advesperating eve- where first I wrote to you, and then I wrote you back.

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2nd Helping well now I've gone and gorged myself I've devoured every morsel I could find, but still I have this empty feeling have I gone completely out of mind it seems I just can't get enough I'm needing more and more each day, taking in all of your natural gifts constant searching for another way you reach out to touch my soul the fragrance of your sweetness I inhale, a new boquet of lovely wild flowers intoxicating like an english ale so I cannot leave this still empty heart I must return to the red velvet rope, back once more for a 2nd helping where you will fill me again I hope I think that I might be in a vicious circle cause I admit I do not want this to ever end, not only are you this special lover even more you are this special friend so when I said before that I was hungry it is for you that my hunger stays, I want to bring you never ending pleasure so many many times so many many ways Gomer LePoet...

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Jul 1, 2014

Jul 1, 2014 at 9:51 AM UTC

2nd Helping well now I've gone and gorged myself I've devoured every morsel I could find, but still I have this empty feeling have I gone completely out of mind it seems I just can't get enough I'm needing more and more each day, taking in all of your natural gifts constant searching for another way you reach out to touch my soul the fragrance of your sweetness I inhale, a new boquet of lovely wild flowers intoxicating like an english ale so I cannot leave this still empty heart I must return to the red velvet rope, back once more for a 2nd helping where you will fill me again I hope I think that I might be in a vicious circle cause I admit I do not want this to ever end, not only are you this special lover even more you are this special friend so when I said before that I was hungry it is for you that my hunger stays, I want to bring you never ending pleasure so many many times so many many ways Gomer LePoet...

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A breadcrumb I am - the morsel of my old dough, a piece of chewed bread rotten, missed near a toe, shredded by the sons of righteousness and “normality”, entombed I am under the carpet to fulfil “morality”. Mum added the yeast for me to grow, as well as flour, Hoping my crust would golden as a vivid live flower, She sprinkled little salt into me, to know the grimes, Sugar too, for life brings out the salt to eyes, at times. Dad poured the water, to soften toughness uncalled, For man is kind too, not merely clay masked, walled - And above all, they added affection and compassion, They wanted me to satisfy mineself, not one’s ration. Into the oven, 9 minutes, under fire: I show colors, The warmth turned the heart warm for all others; I am left to rest, to harden the shell and eternal body, To be perfect as ma and pa wish: not adverse, shoddy. But the stale, unpuffed, unfresh bread of this world, covets but loathes what is good and not yet twirled, It wishes for me to inhibit mold and evict dignity, Mais allez, étrange moi, expose me not to malignity. The least of their gurgling sounds puncture heads, And the weakest of their advice the spirit dreads; The making of me is the capacity of mine flexes, Your ingredients suit not me, mortals and sexes. Days yearn for you, not this battle of complexes: You, mine old dough who suddenly “complex” is, My parents baked me on low heat nice and gentle, And they sear me with words not for me, mental! Know you: Pita, Kmajj, Brioche, Shrak, or Baguette, Bread is bread, could be different, but it is no threat.

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Jan 18, 2023

Jan 18, 2023 at 9:27 AM UTC

The Battle of Breads

A breadcrumb I am - the morsel of my old dough, a piece of chewed bread rotten, missed near a toe, shredded by the sons of righteousness and “normality”, entombed I am under the carpet to fulfil “morality”. Mum added the yeast for me to grow, as well as flour, Hoping my crust would golden as a vivid live flower, She sprinkled little salt into me, to know the grimes, Sugar too, for life brings out the salt to eyes, at times. Dad poured the water, to soften toughness uncalled, For man is kind too, not merely clay masked, walled - And above all, they added affection and compassion, They wanted me to satisfy mineself, not one’s ration. Into the oven, 9 minutes, under fire: I show colors, The warmth turned the heart warm for all others; I am left to rest, to harden the shell and eternal body, To be perfect as ma and pa wish: not adverse, shoddy. But the stale, unpuffed, unfresh bread of this world, covets but loathes what is good and not yet twirled, It wishes for me to inhibit mold and evict dignity, Mais allez, étrange moi, expose me not to malignity. The least of their gurgling sounds puncture heads, And the weakest of their advice the spirit dreads; The making of me is the capacity of mine flexes, Your ingredients suit not me, mortals and sexes. Days yearn for you, not this battle of complexes: You, mine old dough who suddenly “complex” is, My parents baked me on low heat nice and gentle, And they sear me with words not for me, mental! Know you: Pita, Kmajj, Brioche, Shrak, or Baguette, Bread is bread, could be different, but it is no threat.

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