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"palatine" poems
Slender you wear a palatine Ivory beneath your dress. I trace the sea of your eyes with mine. As you catch your lip between teeth and tilt your head, beaconing my gaze with yours. your smile unbuttons my shirt and you twist, the wings of your hips, Urgent, seek my grip. We find a bedroom. My back finds the burnished brick as you push me to it your hands lead mine to curve of your waist, to the loops in your lace. and all is undone. Lips sink to neck, to shoulder To breast, to the pink betwixt your ivory. and soon we are sundered on linen sheets like tulip petals after a storm.
0
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 7:25 PM UTC
Push
Sanmati, my angel, has decorated jawline. Aside puts cold anger and does repine Negative things in her life, but always supine Merry things about the wide world divine. Against me or her things she despise saline. Tough tenderness she got for me in palatine, Ignoring angry love or a speck on her tine Jot down related things like family of feline. Almighty may support her in future design Illustrating Triumph and Failure, outshine Nebo by her sweet behavior saccharine.
0
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 11:05 PM UTC
Sanmati Jain – A Source, Part - V
*shovel and hoof and the falling hood of death, worth a dozen eggs ate, as a Jew prayed to the name, whether horse or wheat be made sacrificially holy and all else be made be sacrificially sound - or a dozen children for the ***** of Adolph for jokes and iconoclastic propaganda... even i know that Adolph overthrew the rites of Abraham given Eva Braun... and whenever the whip, i'd cuddle a paraphrase for a never-figured-out venture that led to a cul de sac... and oh the rich ladies charcoal their fingerprints into nothing more than crime desirable signatures.* Algorithm next door: another lashing of ***** maxim encyclopedia - i.e. the numbers, and subsequent replicas... brr brr bring on the clone army; and the fiddler on the roof said: if i were rich man... ha shem, translated: o horse, o cow-dung... had i but a name a name equal to yours: as mother said, Samuel - Son of Noel: sweat for chamomile tea brew...and with truce: dumb enough to build the pyramids: dumb enough to build, and thus inherit... said the Palatine Palestinian: or come to my Arctic warmth and lick the ice... for fear that insomnia might be the thief of your dreams... pa pa plumb! sha! gerrrrman schtil! let''s call culture a truant mind-set... and later count the grades as gutter of what became known as Harvard... in orifice the neon twilight to nuance the open pupil of inspector lizard, the mammal, a cat, thus petted, in cat abhorred to suit a lion's mane, and the hairdresser: and with Chopin they made entree with state-held diagnosis of Donald Duck, abbreviated with media: niet!
0
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 1:25 AM UTC
pianist on a roof
*shovel and hoof and the falling hood of death, worth a dozen eggs ate, as a Jew prayed to the name, whether horse or wheat be made sacrificially holy and all else be made be sacrificially sound - or a dozen children for the ***** of Adolph for jokes and iconoclastic propaganda... even i know that Adolph overthrew the rites of Abraham given Eva Braun... and whenever the whip, i'd cuddle a paraphrase for a never-figured-out venture that led to a cul de sac... and oh the rich ladies charcoal their fingerprints into nothing more than crime desirable signatures.* Algorithm next door: another lashing of ***** maxim encyclopedia - i.e. the numbers, and subsequent replicas... brr brr bring on the clone army; and the fiddler on the roof said: if i were rich man... ha shem, translated: o horse, o cow-dung... had i but a name a name equal to yours: as mother said, Samuel - Son of Noel: sweat for chamomile tea brew...and with truce: dumb enough to build the pyramids: dumb enough to build, and thus inherit... said the Palatine Palestinian: or come to my Arctic warmth and lick the ice... for fear that insomnia might be the thief of your dreams... pa pa plumb! sha! gerrrrman schtil! let''s call culture a truant mind-set... and later count the grades as gutter of what became known as Harvard... in orifice the neon twilight to nuance the open pupil of inspector lizard, the mammal, a cat, thus petted, in cat abhorred to suit a lion's mane, and the hairdresser: and with Chopin they made entree with state-held diagnosis of Donald Duck, abbreviated with media: niet!
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2
Keep quite. Listen to the sounds of unquietable silence, restless air around you, a million frantic particles you inhale, heed them as they penetrate deep inside you. Follow their course as they enter nasal cavities to conquer a pass through your pharynx, caressing vocal chords, your larynx violins, gliding to destination through abysses of trachea plunging, straight into your lungs. Follow their way back to exhale then focus beyond. Trail the million frantic particles their complex parkour as they spread, within you. Notice the unsilenceable beat of the mighty ****** pump, tune in to its rhythm as it releases red lymph flowing though fragile conduits, veins, nurturing vital organs, muscles, bones, flesh. Master the composition of body fluids playing the sounds of unquietable silence. Feel the recurring vibration in your ears as you swallow, the transparent lubricant incessantly inundating your mouth. The bubbly clicks of saliva as it struggles to prevent your teeth from decaying, creating enzymes to digest, sustenance slithering through an open palatine veil falling down the oesophagus to reach your stomach. Not in your heart, not in your brain but there, precisely there if you concentrate just a little more will you hear the comeliest voice of all. It does not speak into your ear, it sings from within, you perceive it the most in times of intense happiness or pain, though it is always there, suave, sublime, divine, relentlessly murmuring words of wisdom to the totality of your essence. The only one who truly loves you, the one you hear the less, the one trying to tell you, you are beautiful and perfect as you are. Jigsaw tabs and pockets of a puzzle portraying the mesmerising silent mystic figure of a creature, Whose name is Humanity and frame is the Universe.
0
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 2:35 AM UTC
Jigsaw Silence
Keep quite. Listen to the sounds of unquietable silence, restless air around you, a million frantic particles you inhale, heed them as they penetrate deep inside you. Follow their course as they enter nasal cavities to conquer a pass through your pharynx, caressing vocal chords, your larynx violins, gliding to destination through abysses of trachea plunging, straight into your lungs. Follow their way back to exhale then focus beyond. Trail the million frantic particles their complex parkour as they spread, within you. Notice the unsilenceable beat of the mighty ****** pump, tune in to its rhythm as it releases red lymph flowing though fragile conduits, veins, nurturing vital organs, muscles, bones, flesh. Master the composition of body fluids playing the sounds of unquietable silence. Feel the recurring vibration in your ears as you swallow, the transparent lubricant incessantly inundating your mouth. The bubbly clicks of saliva as it struggles to prevent your teeth from decaying, creating enzymes to digest, sustenance slithering through an open palatine veil falling down the oesophagus to reach your stomach. Not in your heart, not in your brain but there, precisely there if you concentrate just a little more will you hear the comeliest voice of all. It does not speak into your ear, it sings from within, you perceive it the most in times of intense happiness or pain, though it is always there, suave, sublime, divine, relentlessly murmuring words of wisdom to the totality of your essence. The only one who truly loves you, the one you hear the less, the one trying to tell you, you are beautiful and perfect as you are. Jigsaw tabs and pockets of a puzzle portraying the mesmerising silent mystic figure of a creature, Whose name is Humanity and frame is the Universe.
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46
all hail the titan angel of fate pooling toga pale glinting halo atop pagan palatine a hamlet painting the path to toil a potent poet plotting pillage alimental tome, anthem to gleaming gain halt the militant legion a hint of mania agleam hanging on the peal of alto “go” the felling of men an intimate lagoon of finite flailing, impaling foe foliage of pleas, foaming tint, flatline a lethal game, an ****** of ego hell on hilltop fin all hail the lion agent of pitfall ignite the flame of fame phantom of heaping hate
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Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 4:34 PM UTC
Apollo of Nighttime