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"ogling" poems
An urge too strong to resist. Once enticed. Can't resist. Go ahead and try to; I insist. End up. Face up. Go ogling; ***** so you can read **** **** like this.
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May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 9:21 AM UTC
*****
ladies and gentlemen this little girl with the good teeth and small important ******* (is it the Frolic or the Century whirl? ones memory indignantly protests) this little dancer with the tightened eyes crisp ogling shoulders and the ripe quite too large lips always clenched faintly,wishes you with all her fragile might to not surmise she dreamed one afternoon ….or maybe read? of time a when the beautiful most of her (this here and This, do you get me?) will maybe dance and maybe sing and be absitively posolutely dead, like Coney Island in winter
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15k
Ladies And Gentlemen This Little Girl
oh honey **** pen and ink **** star warrior pretty little manga girl twinkle wisp with kung fu throwing stars and triple steel samurai sword that tear through others made of pink taffy and cherry juice fizz blood moving like lightening a flying gladiator with dripping sweet rice and tapioca milk shake ******* oh you would taste so good to drink out of a swirling sherbet punch bowl with big blow job star goldfish and hungry pink ***** lips octopus drooling sit on your face suckers oh, fighter of one-legged midgets the best part after a fresh **** victory **** to go down on them their loli pop ***** butter ***** beautiful springing through the top of your skull cause you can't get enough oh wow happy hello kitty ***** plump plops viscous before the coup de grâce as she twirls their chewing gum gizzards with her little swizzle tongue goo ga licious before placing what's left of their hose like glistening entrails around her throat like a pearl necklace only to get strangled with it by double **** UFO boy solar ******* hero of the universe so hard she spurts pineapple juice and *** donuts out of pucker pie **** **** banged cross eyed like little girl manga never felt so good addicted to cruel whipped with a hella wet noodle yes no yes no yes no yes pleazzz her big blue marble glass eyes binocular kaleidoscopes spring out on the floor and roll around turning into all seeing anti-gravity magnetized silver pin stripped spaceships peopled by evil omni ****** **** ***** screaming through eternity in search of cosmic tushi sushi ogling wiggling ballerina butts bubble gum for the eyeballs
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Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 3:36 PM UTC
**** MANGA POETRY
oh honey **** pen and ink **** star warrior pretty little manga girl twinkle wisp with kung fu throwing stars and triple steel samurai sword that tear through others made of pink taffy and cherry juice fizz blood moving like lightening a flying gladiator with dripping sweet rice and tapioca milk shake ******* oh you would taste so good to drink out of a swirling sherbet punch bowl with big blow job star goldfish and hungry pink ***** lips octopus drooling sit on your face suckers oh, fighter of one-legged midgets the best part after a fresh **** victory **** to go down on them their loli pop ***** butter ***** beautiful springing through the top of your skull cause you can't get enough oh wow happy hello kitty ***** plump plops viscous before the coup de grâce as she twirls their chewing gum gizzards with her little swizzle tongue goo ga licious before placing what's left of their hose like glistening entrails around her throat like a pearl necklace only to get strangled with it by double **** UFO boy solar ******* hero of the universe so hard she spurts pineapple juice and *** donuts out of pucker pie **** **** banged cross eyed like little girl manga never felt so good addicted to cruel whipped with a hella wet noodle yes no yes no yes no yes pleazzz her big blue marble glass eyes binocular kaleidoscopes spring out on the floor and roll around turning into all seeing anti-gravity magnetized silver pin stripped spaceships peopled by evil omni ****** **** ***** screaming through eternity in search of cosmic tushi sushi ogling wiggling ballerina butts bubble gum for the eyeballs
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65
I stand here; outside my balcony amidst darkness in the company of loneliness My soul impertaburbly trapped between forlornness and peacefulness Yin and Yang perhaps, Forlorn because the soul, wounded and damaged perniciously by loneliness.. And peace; because the herb... well the herb heals to some extent My vessel the arena On a forbidden course Yang battles Yin the odds are in his favor THC to Yin is like aconite to wolves; And so he weakens with every hit The melee ends like it was destined to tranquil and pure bliss prevail At that moment; the wind starts to sing her song Calling, whistling to his lover the king of the night she whistles a beautiful song that sounds of a gentle breeze zephyr like pushing aside clouds that guard his majesty; grandiosely his image is revealed in the nightlife Observe they all gather under the nightsky; selenophiles far away from each other all in different worlds but it's this energy that coheres them here together The wind starts to sing the song of halcyon, ogling at the moon in veneration and exhilaration selenophiles danced away into the night.
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Jun 28, 2019
Jun 28, 2019 at 7:39 AM UTC
Dance of peace
Angry apes arguing Odd owls ogling Extravagant emus eloping Slimy slugs slithering Wandering worms wriggling Jaunty jays jumping Testy tigers thundering Grumpy giraffes grazing All animals amazing
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Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 7:54 AM UTC
Animal Antics
I see you there on your white sand beach, in your little tight bikini. Looking like a creamy white treat. Infidel ***** Exposed skin men all ogling your body, with eyes like hands! How would you like me to take off my clothes in front of you! Touch your body, and kiss your lips! Then you would see the effect you Infidel Flaunting Sexuality! Your curvaceous body, coated in sweat from the inflamed sun. My blood boils thinking of you! I am going to **** you American! Put my tongue in your mouth, kiss you! Like you do in your pervert mind. Your naughty fantasy of naked man, kissing you on a sunny beach, tropical drink in one hand, other hand rubbing and probing my body! Infidel ***** Laying there, so **** you make me crazy! Your passion *** will burn in sinful fires, and Allah will pass judgement on your *** I will **** you, for punishment to your Infidel Flaunting Sexuality, ******* glistening, lips red as the drink you drink. Infidel *****
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Jul 29, 2012
Jul 29, 2012 at 6:57 AM UTC
Infidel Flaunting Sexuality!
It wasn't worth it, everything we went through just to be together, those Four Months of Hell. Your previous lovers, your precious ogling fangirls, our difficult, busy schedules. All those obstacles and yet we still tried. For what? For this? This ****** excuse of a relationship? I'm sorry for the brutal honesty, but honestly? I'm glad we're through. 'Cause me and you might work on paper, but reality's a different story.
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Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 4:16 PM UTC
It Wasn't Worth It
M4W - Seeking young **** 17 year old to objectify and kick out of high school prom - must have womanly figure but only be a teenager - fingertip length dresses are OK - must be a child but still able to make me envision having *** with you - will be on the balcony ogling my daughter's friends and high-fiving other dads with my ****
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May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
Vitamin C
A woman in heaven caused the fall of man, Even though the apple was plucked by her man. A woman in Troy caused a ****** old war, Brave men fought for the honour of possessing her. A woman in Judea gave birth to a baby boy, Whose tongue caused upheavals that's felt to this day. A woman in a bikini is a poster for her own liberation, While in a burka she is a symbol of her own oppression. She must be the cause of her own sexploitations, For her assets fulfil the ogling market's expectations. When she's ***** it must be her fault in some way, For as she passes by, her brethren look the other way. A young woman is responsible for her own lynching, If she dishonours her brethren for her lover's calling. As a child she is the cause of her own infanticide, For she is the bearer of ill-omens and misfortune. Has anyone ever asked her if she wants to be a poster, Or a commodity, or a bearer of their burden and slander? Beware how you treat her, for she is above all a mother, Whose hands may cradle the next saint, thief or ******
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Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 9:16 AM UTC
Woman
Let me continue the story about a guy named Akshant, Who belonged to Mathura in India, once the city of Krishna. Akshant rejoined college and scored acceptably well this time, He had realized his mistakes while he was to stay at home. Repentance on committing mistakes intentionally was ripe, He barely controlled the regret from flowing through his eyes. Anamika was the only friend who was by his side in this time, Giving him relief from loneliness which rang as the door chime. Akshant had a poor memory so not much could stay on his mind, Stressing his memory too much would only make his brain to grind. Akshant then studied cautiously holding onto Anamika's hand, Cautious he was not to crush it as he had formerly done to others. He brightened up his professional life along with the romantic life, And he scored brilliantly given his mental health was really affected. The dried clots inside his brain were still an issue two years later, But he controlled himself to not harm others from his anger. The clots used to come out through as tears and ear wax, Almost all was physically well after three more years. Akshant went Kodaikanal after his bachelor's degree college, He was an eligible bachelor when he had a job confirmation. This happened when he was drifting away in the Kodai lake, Anamika who sat next to him in the boat congratulated him. Now Anamika confessed her feelings for Akshant in the boat, Akshant couldn't find any words & found himself quite quiet. This made Anamika challenge and taunt about his manliness, Which caused Akshant get enraged & kiss his reply on her lips. The boat swayed terribly in the star-shaped lake's still waters, Anamika ogled & felt her hair get wet & this made her ****** Akshant. She started kissing him back now & her eyes were coming back to normal, These had been wide ogling when Akshant had started kissing hard and so it was.
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Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 2:23 AM UTC
7 Seconds - Part II Of A Poem Based On My {Unpublished} Novel
Let me continue the story about a guy named Akshant, Who belonged to Mathura in India, once the city of Krishna. Akshant rejoined college and scored acceptably well this time, He had realized his mistakes while he was to stay at home. Repentance on committing mistakes intentionally was ripe, He barely controlled the regret from flowing through his eyes. Anamika was the only friend who was by his side in this time, Giving him relief from loneliness which rang as the door chime. Akshant had a poor memory so not much could stay on his mind, Stressing his memory too much would only make his brain to grind. Akshant then studied cautiously holding onto Anamika's hand, Cautious he was not to crush it as he had formerly done to others. He brightened up his professional life along with the romantic life, And he scored brilliantly given his mental health was really affected. The dried clots inside his brain were still an issue two years later, But he controlled himself to not harm others from his anger. The clots used to come out through as tears and ear wax, Almost all was physically well after three more years. Akshant went Kodaikanal after his bachelor's degree college, He was an eligible bachelor when he had a job confirmation. This happened when he was drifting away in the Kodai lake, Anamika who sat next to him in the boat congratulated him. Now Anamika confessed her feelings for Akshant in the boat, Akshant couldn't find any words & found himself quite quiet. This made Anamika challenge and taunt about his manliness, Which caused Akshant get enraged & kiss his reply on her lips. The boat swayed terribly in the star-shaped lake's still waters, Anamika ogled & felt her hair get wet & this made her ****** Akshant. She started kissing him back now & her eyes were coming back to normal, These had been wide ogling when Akshant had started kissing hard and so it was.
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"Surreal skeptic, cynical cryptic! Licentious lecheries fabulist façade fantasias. Wild eyed spectral serene. Dream of catenary concoctions, ethereal salacious conjugation, bridge the gap in metaphysical mystique. Erotica erectile errantry’s exserted protuberance is a kinesiology kleptomaniac with his embark embargo extraditions and his eventuation evocative execrations, a positive amalgamated anathema android of a terminus thrall. The shadow in the shade of the silhouette sojourn. The bailiff’s rakeness rails incarnate, unicorn railway nails and all. He will paint mirador bartizan panorama tableaus all over your proximity parameter perimeter peripherals. Force the enmity to acquiesce into impunity.” “Why this is not but an ogling ogre of an oligarchy omelet” she shrieked as he continued to tickle her. “Down here at the bizarre bazaar we all believe in the blasphemous farcical fugueness,” he said. “Positive orchestration renditions of transpositional interlude.” “Come here,” she said “let my clambering clamorous clangor write you a wield wile treatise expose’.” “The legions of Chinga da are battling the hoards of Gunga din saying ‘kinetic supremacy temporize tractive fluent’ , it’s sheer genocide. That plasty goop nosed Gumby ****** Gunga doesn’t stand a chance. Coax cacophony clout, catatonic phonics, grizzly grotto grouches all”, She squealed. “Now you’re gumption dreaming”, he chimed. “Chutzpah panache spontaneous generation complicity, gambit alluvium aloof succor.”
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Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 7:17 PM UTC
Salacious
"Surreal skeptic, cynical cryptic! Licentious lecheries fabulist façade fantasias. Wild eyed spectral serene. Dream of catenary concoctions, ethereal salacious conjugation, bridge the gap in metaphysical mystique. Erotica erectile errantry’s exserted protuberance is a kinesiology kleptomaniac with his embark embargo extraditions and his eventuation evocative execrations, a positive amalgamated anathema android of a terminus thrall. The shadow in the shade of the silhouette sojourn. The bailiff’s rakeness rails incarnate, unicorn railway nails and all. He will paint mirador bartizan panorama tableaus all over your proximity parameter perimeter peripherals. Force the enmity to acquiesce into impunity.” “Why this is not but an ogling ogre of an oligarchy omelet” she shrieked as he continued to tickle her. “Down here at the bizarre bazaar we all believe in the blasphemous farcical fugueness,” he said. “Positive orchestration renditions of transpositional interlude.” “Come here,” she said “let my clambering clamorous clangor write you a wield wile treatise expose’.” “The legions of Chinga da are battling the hoards of Gunga din saying ‘kinetic supremacy temporize tractive fluent’ , it’s sheer genocide. That plasty goop nosed Gumby ****** Gunga doesn’t stand a chance. Coax cacophony clout, catatonic phonics, grizzly grotto grouches all”, She squealed. “Now you’re gumption dreaming”, he chimed. “Chutzpah panache spontaneous generation complicity, gambit alluvium aloof succor.”
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1
I've begun to spot patterns more clearly, the brick homes that set around this suburbia have begun to resemble the lovely spots of a giraffe perhaps because I have become so used to ogling their grace, I couldn't be sure, but I've begun to spot patterns on me, bold, odd, rectangular blocks honey-ed to my thin skin: People. They are all around me. Yet all I see are those blocks thatching to me, I think they're in search of a shorter neck.
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Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 10:58 PM UTC
Is your giraffe lonely?
God Might move the deadline For our Chinese script But I'm still mad at him For keeping me up At the grand hour of 11 In the evening graphing Over (and over) Again business charts that Have crooked smiles almost As blank and bleak As their returns on investment. And speaking of which, This extra eighty grand I spent At this school, ogling at textbooks I could Never work up the courage to read, Is finally starting to break my back. Weakly, I'll tell you How much I hate school— How her consonants sound synonymous To "scoliosis," And peel off my shirt and prove it to you But that would be careless. And careless is something in me hand-bound By iron clad futures and Graying dreams, Perhaps that of a dead stock broker Feet dangling off the roof of The Philippine Stock Exchange, And even then that's Straying too far from home: A cardboard box business Resting by a Tuberculosis-riddled sea.
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Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 10:21 AM UTC
From Brown to Binondo
Here I lay in my comfort composure Listening to every rythm of my music Removing my white earphone to listen To listen to the beauty of nature raining Picturing myself as a randrop falling; free Picturing the placid movement of water Moving as one, cold breeze and falling with heavy gravitational pull Thinking back to when I'd lay in _comfort_ Listening to every perfect beat of your heart Concentrating on the whispers of your spirit Being attentive to your chords as you release them Piercing my mind, _quaking_ through my flesh To simply un-wither that was even desintegrated Your love circulating my veins Simply By speaking Rippling accross my seams Bolting through my body more than any drug ever Hanging me on your hook Touring to the meadow in my dreams Conquering the battles in my nightmares Re-writing the words on my page that is life Then After enough re-painting Of my story You started to un-write my book Crossing the hearts Tearing the written pages Oh how I could only stand and _stare_ Oh how all you did, difficultly _Glare_ The whispers your soul gave _withered_ Cleared and filléd my mind _vacant_ Was I abandoned by your heart So easily the welcoming door Became an unbidden command _requested_ This hour Is when I play it back; Remenisce about it Laying alone, in discomfort Listening to no beats Not even one of my own Then I close my eyes violently Shoving back the emotion To silently replay those words I love you Always Crashing down Bolting tar through my body Poisoning my mind Rippling through my veins That same poison Is what I use To **** inside me What demons creep See the story has a twist What I feared most What demons I feared even more Is exactly what I became The poison inside me Crisply ogling at me Inside the cage Compresséd Inside what We call a Mirror
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Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 9:30 PM UTC
Diamond Edges
Here I lay in my comfort composure Listening to every rythm of my music Removing my white earphone to listen To listen to the beauty of nature raining Picturing myself as a randrop falling; free Picturing the placid movement of water Moving as one, cold breeze and falling with heavy gravitational pull Thinking back to when I'd lay in _comfort_ Listening to every perfect beat of your heart Concentrating on the whispers of your spirit Being attentive to your chords as you release them Piercing my mind, _quaking_ through my flesh To simply un-wither that was even desintegrated Your love circulating my veins Simply By speaking Rippling accross my seams Bolting through my body more than any drug ever Hanging me on your hook Touring to the meadow in my dreams Conquering the battles in my nightmares Re-writing the words on my page that is life Then After enough re-painting Of my story You started to un-write my book Crossing the hearts Tearing the written pages Oh how I could only stand and _stare_ Oh how all you did, difficultly _Glare_ The whispers your soul gave _withered_ Cleared and filléd my mind _vacant_ Was I abandoned by your heart So easily the welcoming door Became an unbidden command _requested_ This hour Is when I play it back; Remenisce about it Laying alone, in discomfort Listening to no beats Not even one of my own Then I close my eyes violently Shoving back the emotion To silently replay those words I love you Always Crashing down Bolting tar through my body Poisoning my mind Rippling through my veins That same poison Is what I use To **** inside me What demons creep See the story has a twist What I feared most What demons I feared even more Is exactly what I became The poison inside me Crisply ogling at me Inside the cage Compresséd Inside what We call a Mirror
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76
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙ Seems to be a strange day a cold in the breeze in the months of May screeching’s of the door a mist at the windows broken pane The room was lonely as the leaves, out whirling a thump at the ceiling top, rolling, shackling like those ogling cats for a savoring mouse From an ominous weather to the whispering waters a crack brought my most —attention uncanny things lurking came falling within *I saw streamers faking shimmers I saw glitters but aren't gold I saw diamonds yet it wasn't snow* A strong wind gushing hoist the storm came toiling, warping heaven and earth were felonious, winced and everything was settled Crystal drops touching the tender heart abrupt shattered glass striking a sorry won't be sought memories engrave nothing flagrant it is to mend Crystal drops falling true friends come for once, an astral to a feeling stalwart is to be keeping till when, twas its end and all of this begins again
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Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 10:12 AM UTC
Crystal Drops
I stepped outside long ago if only to step some more. This cool wind so unlike Florida. A welcoming to embrace. It'll be gone far too soon. My neck finally tires hanging like a bowling ball tied and held to one most old and weary rubber band. My eyes come up on a night everyone knows. We all have a color coating our pupils.  Mine are blue and guilty of ogling even if this common sight grows sadder and sadder until it becomes truly sad. Many bright dots freckling the sky-- and what body isn't without imperfections? --so much ours so many. Too many. Those builders of our own time those without grasp of selflessness have such themselves. Stinging night's veil both by presence and prominence. with naught subtlety. They shine beyond all that have ever shone.   Illuminating glaring and blinding. We are not so receptive down in the dark earth where neon signs pollute our eyes until the sun dusts it away only so we cringe and close them again. What then can a satellite show?
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May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
Satellites
Did you know? Did you hear? Were you told? About the love story of the sun and the moon, And how the sun died each night just to let the moon breathe. What has he done to prove his love? Or were those endless nights all enough? Talking about a future that he would work on and walking up to ***** just like any other time. Did he prove how much he loved your pretty soul? And that never again would he allow you to have your unborns killed? Did he ever stop you from aborting? Or even decline to be the father? What has he offered that we can compare to the sun? A bouquet of flowers? A glass of champagne? Or were you just a trophy girl that he used to magnify his earnings? Did he tell you not to answer Katherine’s call, his secretary? Or did he remind you of the Sunset Resort where he was busy ogling at other ladies on their bikinis? What does he remind you of? Of endless love or of being a concubine? I tell you, I will remind you once again, Of the story of the sun and the moon. How the beauty of the moon was the pride of the sun, And how much the stars shied away admiring their love…
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Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 5:58 AM UTC
The love story of the moon and the sun
1. Bathtime You hadn't seen me naked. I covered myself in bubbles, And called you into the bathroom. 2. Pretending to lunch When you told me you couldn't stop staring at my ******* I invited you to indulge in thirty seconds of uninterrupted, intense ogling. You were happy to oblige. 3. Birthday Present I innocently suckled on my ***** and coke, And you asked if I was "doing that deliberately with the straw". I wasn't, I promise. 4. Unclothed I did as you asked, I took off my dress And stood there, bathed in candlelight, Shivering, translated and transformed. 5.  My Reward We kissed. We kissed. We kissed.
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Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 5:56 PM UTC
Powerful **** Moments
******* at tickling the ivories, at inducing the jet buttons to chortle, say, in a concerto ; but I do strum and flirt with those amazing royal, 88 unrepentant loyal keys for Jupiter and Saturn, for Mars and Neptune, making a blank bland tune for extraterrestrial beings for fun. On the cosmic moors the moon's whirling feet cease for my discordance. What a slurred entrance by F in D major! Only a novice--an amateur. I'm no magnificent pianist, O majestic Mercury. Summon the stars the search to lead for a supreme virtuoso, one of  no incongruent ingenuity like this dilettante--a pseudo music polymath, counsels Thebe. A Mozart, Beethoven, or Bach? Any of the greats scored above, as well as geniuses like David and Handel. Impressario fly! Flee thou away and go get a classic maven. Otherwise sleep there forever at Erebus, never dream of waking up in Eden. Circuitous world stops: strings break off at the Earth's axis-- the Sun's panels pause and darkness' movement begins its own obscure notes to improvise: apace demented melody is released,-- bathos of symphony: tinny wine of concord settles on the lees of discord. Asteroids hooting some ***** calls when into the grand chrysolite chamber-- in her tailor-made blistering gown-- strolls in the coruscating Venus in the sturdy arm of jaundiced Uranus, garbed in his glistening stomacher. Like a ball, all eyes are bouncing hither and thither, up and down, googling and ogling, once more at them leering, gaping at the irreplaceable paintings of da Vinci, Picasso, and Van Gogh cavorting  upon the weightless walls to the romantic performance of Strauss in the palace orchestral of Bacchus.
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May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
Planetary Concerto
******* at tickling the ivories, at inducing the jet buttons to chortle, say, in a concerto ; but I do strum and flirt with those amazing royal, 88 unrepentant loyal keys for Jupiter and Saturn, for Mars and Neptune, making a blank bland tune for extraterrestrial beings for fun. On the cosmic moors the moon's whirling feet cease for my discordance. What a slurred entrance by F in D major! Only a novice--an amateur. I'm no magnificent pianist, O majestic Mercury. Summon the stars the search to lead for a supreme virtuoso, one of  no incongruent ingenuity like this dilettante--a pseudo music polymath, counsels Thebe. A Mozart, Beethoven, or Bach? Any of the greats scored above, as well as geniuses like David and Handel. Impressario fly! Flee thou away and go get a classic maven. Otherwise sleep there forever at Erebus, never dream of waking up in Eden. Circuitous world stops: strings break off at the Earth's axis-- the Sun's panels pause and darkness' movement begins its own obscure notes to improvise: apace demented melody is released,-- bathos of symphony: tinny wine of concord settles on the lees of discord. Asteroids hooting some ***** calls when into the grand chrysolite chamber-- in her tailor-made blistering gown-- strolls in the coruscating Venus in the sturdy arm of jaundiced Uranus, garbed in his glistening stomacher. Like a ball, all eyes are bouncing hither and thither, up and down, googling and ogling, once more at them leering, gaping at the irreplaceable paintings of da Vinci, Picasso, and Van Gogh cavorting  upon the weightless walls to the romantic performance of Strauss in the palace orchestral of Bacchus.
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54
Many little children wander by Ogling the window shops’ merchandise Replaying dreams of Christmas past Inside their infinite minds As a glimmer of possibility Hopes to peek through the July heat — Moriah J. Chace
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Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 12:16 AM UTC
Christmas in July: An Acrostic
His vilification and forgery of happiness Had scorned her love And as he used to lay down On the sweet and soft river bed With the placid waves merging around him The Crepuscular light peeking at twilight He watches herfrom the corner of both eyes Tearing apart as another man caresses her He breaks even further apart As he misses her warm embrace Her silky touch on his ragged face Her crisp ogling through his mind into his soul Her precious love had him engaged Her mellifluous persuasive voice had been What he missed the most He desired to taste such love again, But he knew and he knew That there is none quite equal to her
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Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 2:52 AM UTC
His once true love
Teen, sixteen, gazing into the mirror, adoring Her smug self afore that vanity espying glass. At her well favoured features she's ogling With ****** grins, sans ****** feelings. Everything was still in a pink state, Like morn, from her sole to her pate. "Time's winged chariot" flashes by, and she's Turned sixty. That same structure luscious Like seasons, from summer to winter, sooner changed: gray hair hath taken over With wrinkle surface, shelving ******* on A frame frail. Her cherished hot form Has sunk, as the sun, down the horizon Of beauty for ageing, which doth man transform.
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Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 8:17 AM UTC
Transformer
These years are speeding darkly Since the epiphany. You don't get A lot of those. Last night On the beach I laid back to watch The shooting stars; some say The heavenly stars. The Perseids Burned indiscriminately, I counted two. I was starstruck watching The four satelites, In a pre-determined orbital, That would burn as sure as A ghetto. Ogling the dark spaces; Comforted, there's more stars Out there for some other reason. And wham. It happened , always unexpected. It's not because something's not there; It's because it never was, but for Two meteors and four satelites. I saw the light.
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Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 10:06 PM UTC
The Perseids