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"ravaging" poems
Let me take you Use your body tonight As I will ****** And hold you tight Hands exploring each other Finding your wet desire Tonight, be my lover Setting your soul on fire Bite marks across your skin Bite marks across your thighs Surrender to this lust and sin I want to hear your sighs Feel me now as I enter Having you in every way Ravaging your moist centre Inside you in savage play You flow like a waterfall As I ****** so very deep Exploding, giving you my all Holding you now, as we sleep
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Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 7:02 AM UTC
The Lover
Hidden behind my desires. Fantasies of ecstasy frustrating me. My body tempting me sensually. Sexuality turning on me, arousing my entity. My fingers betraying me, ****** my body eagerly. Probing between my legs relentlessly, consuming my whole body; selfishly. Weakening my flesh; this tantalizing energy claiming the deepest depths of my ***** Scandalous imagery, mentally ravaging me, seducing me, teasing my lips, guiding my fingertips effortlessly, long fingers dip, disappearing; deep inside of me. My ***** tightens, the feelings heighten. Warm liquids drip, stone hard **** pulling and rubbing it. Wrist twist,palm grinding against my ***** legs clasp, my insides amass giving way, As I spray, my exhausted body collapses.
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Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 10:26 PM UTC
Temptress (Explicit)
**** the voices on TV that scare us into depression **** the killers ravaging the innocent and the gentle **** the institutions placing us into corners **** the religions trying to sterilize our minds **** the powerful that feed on greed and power **** the lazy that leech off the hardworking **** the women who use men for *** **** the men who use women for *** **** the people that don't believe that you are strong **** the weakness in you that you know you can defeat **** the false prophets of false beliefs **** those who do not respect **** those who do not love **** the apathetic **** the lazy **** the rich **** the poor **** the dead **** the alive **** the miserable **** the happy **** those who say that life is not finite **** those who say that life is not beautiful **** everyone **** yourself **** death **** all that does not make you a better person **** all that does not help bring happiness to others **** all that does not make you smile **** all that does not make you weep **** all that does not make you feel alive
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Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 11:09 PM UTC
****
They were children tasting sugar For the first time Without all the artificial layers The raw sweetness Making them gasp and shiver Anticipating for more Turning them into wild animals Ravaging its meal Showing their true identities Buried in these colors
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Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 4:18 AM UTC
Animals
Somewhere beneath that piano's superb sleek black Must hide my mother's piano, little and brown with the back That stood close to the wall, and the front's faded silk, both torn And the keys with little hollows, that my mother's fingers had worn. Softly, in the shadows, a woman is singing to me Quietly, through the years I have crept back to see A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the shaking strings Pressing the little poised feet of the mother who smiles as she sings The full throated woman has chosen a winning, living song And surely the heart that is in me must belong To the old Sunday evenings, when darkness wandered outside And hymns gleamed on our warm lips, as we watched mother's fingers glide Or this is my sister at home in the old front room Singing love's first surprised gladness, alone in the gloom. She will start when she sees me, and blushing, spread out her hands To cover my mouth's raillery, till I'm bound in her shame's heart-spun bands A woman is singing me a wild Hungarian air And her arms, and her ***** and the whole of her soul is bare And the great black piano is clamouring as my mother's never could clamour And the tunes of the past are devoured of this music's ravaging glamour.
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6.8k
The Piano (Notebook Version)
a future promise a hard on like bundled gym socks in stuffed blue jeans a future threat a shriveled phallus wrinkled obsolete she remembered fondly being beaten drum chatter and seized like slow roasted fall off the bone pulled pork ****** raggedy Ann catapulted beyond Euboean heavens ravaging scrotums Gordian ****** with her wild fiendish mouth drinking a river of haloed golden showers spit and **** in a runaway hot house of glistening pink buttery spires engorging her macerated orifices half eaten radish chocking on hordes of big do do ***** a ****** face; cross eyed Babylon abalone bashed Ashly mashed begging for a face full of swinging ***** like caped chandeliers trotting faint giggles in a constellation of ruptured arteries and thick sparked **** on her knees milk glitter faced scared with happiness she counted one smiling bruise at a time her badge of calamities black and blue silhouettes grinning invitations like party favors without a crease of shame her skin rapturous spackled patchworks bled like torrential fountains summer tide while every body had  fizzy red ice phlebotomies and steamed through her drooling tumble pie lust ***** totem house of winding labyrinths honey pumped transfusion flush on blush opera of tangled limbs red pulse wedding flowers slick ***** palace blood tongued orchard caressing knotted mooned **** spill
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Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 2:22 PM UTC
**** Spill
Etched in a lilies bloom Tastes of him were born; Beneath an attic sky, a sleeping heart, listens to his tune, Her hands, small cathedrals, catching the heat of his dark... Summer, shimmered beneath a midnight sun; Flooding moments, Feeding his mind through her tongue, A vibration, milky blue ....notes rubbing softly upon her skin, Oh! how her pores sung his finger tipped tender..... A half light of fingers, stroked memories through shadows, A skin of kisses, shivering on starry pillows, fusing the jet velvet; Gauze, skimmed a ghost, un-woken between light and body; As the flute of larynx, unhooked, softly in shadows of reflection, Spilling amber Upon a necklace of optimism...too delicate to wear..... His heart, cradled the curl that fell across her face, It danced in his fingertips, Endless ribbons of tender Love, dripped from veins upon Her skinny jeans, Scarlet stained Ripped... He whispered "baby", and rocked her with his hips; The ache in her thighs missed him, The sweetness of him; Breathing silence, upon her pelvis, A cat's cradle; scented with orchids; Upon a canvas of aching skin... Ravaging, raking needs, spoke tongue's In the drape down taste of heartbeats, Arousing the fire of Summer's gentle slope; The spiral of her heart, cornered, wild; A quiet suffering, soothing her breast, In a moonlight of dark songs... Heartbeats,  she thought, Are but night whispers..... fading in and out of time, Lingering on the edge of now, to Fall softly, into a misty world of someday; Somewhere, in the stillness, his voice whispers her heart, Beyond forever, washing wishes in the sea........
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Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 2:42 PM UTC
Heartbeats:
Etched in a lilies bloom Tastes of him were born; Beneath an attic sky, a sleeping heart, listens to his tune, Her hands, small cathedrals, catching the heat of his dark... Summer, shimmered beneath a midnight sun; Flooding moments, Feeding his mind through her tongue, A vibration, milky blue ....notes rubbing softly upon her skin, Oh! how her pores sung his finger tipped tender..... A half light of fingers, stroked memories through shadows, A skin of kisses, shivering on starry pillows, fusing the jet velvet; Gauze, skimmed a ghost, un-woken between light and body; As the flute of larynx, unhooked, softly in shadows of reflection, Spilling amber Upon a necklace of optimism...too delicate to wear..... His heart, cradled the curl that fell across her face, It danced in his fingertips, Endless ribbons of tender Love, dripped from veins upon Her skinny jeans, Scarlet stained Ripped... He whispered "baby", and rocked her with his hips; The ache in her thighs missed him, The sweetness of him; Breathing silence, upon her pelvis, A cat's cradle; scented with orchids; Upon a canvas of aching skin... Ravaging, raking needs, spoke tongue's In the drape down taste of heartbeats, Arousing the fire of Summer's gentle slope; The spiral of her heart, cornered, wild; A quiet suffering, soothing her breast, In a moonlight of dark songs... Heartbeats,  she thought, Are but night whispers..... fading in and out of time, Lingering on the edge of now, to Fall softly, into a misty world of someday; Somewhere, in the stillness, his voice whispers her heart, Beyond forever, washing wishes in the sea........
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39
it's only deep in the night when my mind wanders most that i ponder why another night of drinking alone is the status quo. it's when i wonder why the wheel that started spinning so long ago keeps spinning, in the same direction and general speed. deep in the night is when the doubts and regrets run rampant like rioters through the square, flipping cars amidst flaming tires. it's when the needs and the wants clash for supremacy, assuring the mutual destruction of each. loves lost carve their names into my neocortex. where dreams unrealized fill their time by playing ping-ping until they're ****** from the backburner to manic importance. deep in the night is when blood-shot eyes and blaring computer monitors have a staring contest. deep in it, thought becomes reaction and the beans spill accordingly. knee-deep and we're ravaging the calm into frenzy and burning the books of our beliefs and abandoning rationale in favor of the spectre of immediate gratification at any cost, at any loss. deep in the night where no light penetrates, things become somehow illuminated.
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Jul 10, 2011
Jul 10, 2011 at 12:41 PM UTC
deep
I know I'm falling but its not my time reaper I hear you calling my name but its not my time Ravaging the fallen you crawl by my side slowly looking for the weakness I hide I feel my heart stop beating but my soul is still alive and I'm prepared to fight until I die Inside the darkness I find the light I will not fall without a fight I will take the pain but won't let you have my soul its time for me to take back control from the ashes I will rise once again to live my life I know this is not the end you will return this feud has just begun..
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Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 10:15 AM UTC
Reaper Calling
Sometimes face painting another persona becomes plain, her exaggerated giggles don't slouch right upon the rose buds, (Mama noted them first - cherishing her eleven winter's awaited delivery) so readily pruned of actuality and truthfulness ravaging an inner shadow - still Eight Christmases young playing on her fruit's swing, running dough fingers across tangerine bars. Before memories commence their chorus, pleading forgiveness and forget-me nots, 'No Vacancies' is rehung within her windows moss embroidered.
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Oct 25, 2011
Oct 25, 2011 at 2:07 PM UTC
Fruit Swing
The ****** Lost The ****** of Soul – does it work Like Nakedness of Flesh in flashing World? This shameless question worthy is of Talk For Answers are so ravaging and bold. Disclose Enclosures, Cloths unwrap, Partaking Tastes so openly dare: The ****** of Flesh – a mighty step To Nakedness of Soul, a potent Pair!.. All Visual is hidden – take a look And blindness of the sight by Darkness washes: ********** flow running like a brook, It starts when Star falls down like a brooch. The covers follow it like Mysteries, – Their Names are ridiculed, Oblivion-like: Be longer, Milky Way of naked Bliss – Be burst of Lightning, you, releasing Strike!.. In Mirrors Naked ****** reflects, In Revelations Nakedness get **** And let the envy Ignorance neglect, And let the jealous Ugliness be rude, – The Flesh of Soul seduces Soul of Flesh To let them live in Triumph of the Worth: It gives the World initiating Flash The shame of which for so long is lost!..
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Jan 7, 2021
Jan 7, 2021 at 5:37 PM UTC
The ****** Lost
When I saw her for the first time it wasn't admiration It was awe mixed with a twinge of jealousy Her perfection and her confidence intimidated me When I first befriended her it wasn't just adoration It was an obsession and a fixation To be like her in thought and action Till I learnt to be better than her without being enough That was when the insecurity started 'Will I ever be enough?' I wasn't enough at home, not fair enough or smart enough I wasn't witty or flirtatious enough I lacked guts and I lacked the temperament Of a proper twelve-year-old. I was a doormat and a pushover Already coming undone at my seams Trying to emulate perfection through blinded eyes Every day I scoffed and surrendered to my picture of admiration Trying to secure her own admission 'Will I ever be enough?' Then she left me battling my own wars Hers was to conquer new turfs. I waited for a while, finally realizing I was a ship without a captain, left to wander evermore. I caught a new captain in a bystander who counted his lucky stars I admired him for being there for me when I never was. I tried to hold on to an unconsolidated bond of friendship With a raging doubt piercing through my heart 'Will I ever be enough?' Many came telling me my worth. Many left ravaging my already battered heart Many drank my colourless lifeless blood Many left a wretched bluish mark I shrivelled from the inside out Bloating in the nausea of my being Every day trying to put me together Every day losing instead of winning. One day finally I reached out Knowing my salvation lies I put everything behind me and cried out Only to be put on the side. That day I realized my worth When she was hurt by my rejection When she refused to give me a chance When I had never received any ever. My insecurities still lingered But they were a part of me now And I did not know how to do without. I picked up the pieces that meant something to me Even though she was no more there to see Yet I knew that she was never enough Never my horizon, never my turf I had wings to reach farther And my flight has thus Now begun without her. (c) Anavah 2018
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Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 7:18 AM UTC
ENOUGH
When I saw her for the first time it wasn't admiration It was awe mixed with a twinge of jealousy Her perfection and her confidence intimidated me When I first befriended her it wasn't just adoration It was an obsession and a fixation To be like her in thought and action Till I learnt to be better than her without being enough That was when the insecurity started 'Will I ever be enough?' I wasn't enough at home, not fair enough or smart enough I wasn't witty or flirtatious enough I lacked guts and I lacked the temperament Of a proper twelve-year-old. I was a doormat and a pushover Already coming undone at my seams Trying to emulate perfection through blinded eyes Every day I scoffed and surrendered to my picture of admiration Trying to secure her own admission 'Will I ever be enough?' Then she left me battling my own wars Hers was to conquer new turfs. I waited for a while, finally realizing I was a ship without a captain, left to wander evermore. I caught a new captain in a bystander who counted his lucky stars I admired him for being there for me when I never was. I tried to hold on to an unconsolidated bond of friendship With a raging doubt piercing through my heart 'Will I ever be enough?' Many came telling me my worth. Many left ravaging my already battered heart Many drank my colourless lifeless blood Many left a wretched bluish mark I shrivelled from the inside out Bloating in the nausea of my being Every day trying to put me together Every day losing instead of winning. One day finally I reached out Knowing my salvation lies I put everything behind me and cried out Only to be put on the side. That day I realized my worth When she was hurt by my rejection When she refused to give me a chance When I had never received any ever. My insecurities still lingered But they were a part of me now And I did not know how to do without. I picked up the pieces that meant something to me Even though she was no more there to see Yet I knew that she was never enough Never my horizon, never my turf I had wings to reach farther And my flight has thus Now begun without her. (c) Anavah 2018
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55
*Are you a gangster or a thief seeking attention Are you an artist or a voyager painting words Are you a poet or a plagiarist seeking love Are you a Saint or a sinner searching for salvation Are you my heart or a tattooed scar stuck on my chest Are you a fisherman or a sailor giving life a second chance Are you the moon or a lonely sun ravaging through your days Are you moving forward or dragging through tormenting memories*
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Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 4:00 AM UTC
?
bats on a wing soaring high chasing their pray in a blood lust frenzy ravaging emotions in a moonlit sky. wide awake in the dead of night heart rhythmaticly beating to distant drums of flights of fantasy just out of grasp till the morning light. not daring to look deep inside me an empty vessel i scream your name silence speaks yet another day.
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Sep 28, 2010
Sep 28, 2010 at 12:07 PM UTC
vessel
the presence of your breath down the nape of my neck goosebumps encaptivate fields of epithelium ravaging my integumentary system follicle by follicle the touch of your lips color my cheeks like the red of holi marking every cell every junction as conquered territory the gaze of your eyes occipital lobes, is it? strip me naked without a touch simple introspection I really can't get enough of this anatomy
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Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 11:40 AM UTC
lecture no. 7
Speechless Trying to let something out, maybe burst out Probably shout out Possibly break out .. But no, not even close to talk it out Ravaging inside me Like a vulture ripping the **** out of its prey .. Scared of flaming it out What if it went wrong? Since it always goes wrong.. Attempting so hard to gather my thoughts together But they're like drizzles sprayed into the air .. Returned to being insecure, on the inside On the outside, seeking a queen, precious. Excessively a judgmental world Harsh claws, digging into prohibited areas .. Not good, not good enough I'll never be good enough Not only to everyone, but especially to him.
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Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 6:04 PM UTC
Lull
It walked on water over seas And lurked within the hold Deep inside it slept and dreamt Of glory, God and gold It raised its sword to take and have And felled the trees with axe To claim and own the uncontrolled Then marked it on our backs   It spoke in tongues of serpents And hissed of demon flame Promising salvation If we but learned its name It forced us to betray And turn against our brother Condemned us to a barren rock By ravaging our mother It offered us the thought of more   And then reached out its hand But only shared a sickness That still spreads throughout this land
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Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 12:17 AM UTC
Columbian Exchange
My life is a paradoxical monstrosity A contradiction in itself Where to start? Anywhere, everywhere, nowhere perhaps Occupation, I play with words. How naughty does that sound? Really, I'm in a complicated relationship with words, terms, definitions, metaphors Writer by day, storyteller by night And of course I love what I do And I hate what I do How very poetic of you! Why thank you! Sorry, the inner child speaks. Back to writing, And the moments of fantastic ecstasy Where this jumble of verbs and nouns and adjectives you're trying to assemble Clicks. The bigger picture develops with crystal clear clarity No fastidious statements Or meaningless passages. Just words, feelings, meanings Soul. That doesn't sound so bad you say IT HAPPENS ONCE EVERY MILLENIA! For the most I am frustrated. Stumped to the point where rage overcomes and the only cathartic release is to sleep. When I do manage to squeeze something out of the depths of my mind, it appears substandard, to say the least. Zadie told me to get used to non-satisfaction So I am satisfied with never been satisfied; does this make me satisfied? Ow. Please, I need an answer I've been looking for answers for nineteen years, But have I been asking the right questions? Are there any answers? Another question No, that was the question Confusion and befuddlment ravaging through your mind? I recently realised there are no facts Only really good suggestions by excessively knowledgeable and esteemed I quite fancy being one of those guys A visionary complete with the stereotypical glasses and overgrown beard And I'd declare that being yourself is the first step to finding your purpose Fact. But what if finding your purpose is your purpose? I'll leave you with that. This is my life. Complaining would be ungrateful of me; it's a good one really. I can walk and run and play basketball and see my friends where we laugh endlessly. Oh and Saturday morning cartoons. I have problems, enormous world ending problems But it's all relative. Some think I'm strange, I prefer quirky. I wonder how life would be if I'd chose the 'normal' option Most likely, frightfully boring
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Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 7:36 PM UTC
My Life
My life is a paradoxical monstrosity A contradiction in itself Where to start? Anywhere, everywhere, nowhere perhaps Occupation, I play with words. How naughty does that sound? Really, I'm in a complicated relationship with words, terms, definitions, metaphors Writer by day, storyteller by night And of course I love what I do And I hate what I do How very poetic of you! Why thank you! Sorry, the inner child speaks. Back to writing, And the moments of fantastic ecstasy Where this jumble of verbs and nouns and adjectives you're trying to assemble Clicks. The bigger picture develops with crystal clear clarity No fastidious statements Or meaningless passages. Just words, feelings, meanings Soul. That doesn't sound so bad you say IT HAPPENS ONCE EVERY MILLENIA! For the most I am frustrated. Stumped to the point where rage overcomes and the only cathartic release is to sleep. When I do manage to squeeze something out of the depths of my mind, it appears substandard, to say the least. Zadie told me to get used to non-satisfaction So I am satisfied with never been satisfied; does this make me satisfied? Ow. Please, I need an answer I've been looking for answers for nineteen years, But have I been asking the right questions? Are there any answers? Another question No, that was the question Confusion and befuddlment ravaging through your mind? I recently realised there are no facts Only really good suggestions by excessively knowledgeable and esteemed I quite fancy being one of those guys A visionary complete with the stereotypical glasses and overgrown beard And I'd declare that being yourself is the first step to finding your purpose Fact. But what if finding your purpose is your purpose? I'll leave you with that. This is my life. Complaining would be ungrateful of me; it's a good one really. I can walk and run and play basketball and see my friends where we laugh endlessly. Oh and Saturday morning cartoons. I have problems, enormous world ending problems But it's all relative. Some think I'm strange, I prefer quirky. I wonder how life would be if I'd chose the 'normal' option Most likely, frightfully boring
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55
I shalt be one's ravaging Viking Exploring her wonder's, Wherein man hast not yet seen...
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Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 5:41 PM UTC
viking wonderer
Bringing us to life, Nurturing us, caring for us. Teaching us all manner of things, From beginning to end. Ever going onward, ravaging us in its wake. Leaving no pebble unturned in passing. Tearing through and affecting all. Seeing a shell left behind, mourning a loss, rejoicing in release, if ever it will come. If ever one is released, by our ever present jailer. Time.
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Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 10:00 PM UTC
Time
choo choo next stop.....perdition (no, not really...no-one believes this Stygian opacity) 1. look how Time doth ravage thee look what it did to thy visage in smithereens, lies youth it so artfully takes away what is held so dear rivers and streams valleys and hills arching to ecstatic heights plunging to abysmal lows into the ravine of chance stirred by the spoon of Time slowly around the cauldron brews the self-same mixture then poured into chasms of forgetfulness using the eternal sledgehammer it smashes the foundation of thought grinds the nutmeg of speed pulps the fruit of mentality slows the pulse of sensation and pardons none. 2. what was once sensuous and voluptuous lips now are merely two dry slits on your face once stared-into eyeballs, now glass over vitreous cataracts steadily grow, weed-like toned into lithe elastic bands now stretch away into forever, a pale platform to walk on life's morn is encompassed by years' slanting clouded and bedimmed by mists of age butterfly's existence outweighs a man's by mere night-veiled windowpane of true sight draw the curtains; close the shutters; screen the eyes the time has come to shed all blinkers and face the sun. 3. crimp sag limp drag mud cracks down a dipping dale scalding pain sears sore half-foot yes, time is but a disease ravaging all without fear or favour sunken eyes slower reflexes tardier mind scraggly body hides not condescends not forgets not the glimmer of .... a time of ... 4. cathedral invites the walker in cool and calm recesses sit silent wait.... then they walk in, carrying one who had but a lucky half-score lot clear soprano note becomes a rudderless bleat announcing the folly of stifling ego now shorn of burning frost of circuitous fervour beams of mercy cast a final look-see jump the barriers of time to carry thee off. pipe organ-stops are pulled out (art thee ready?  platform number 5) S T,  9 May 2013
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May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 9:24 AM UTC
time is but a disease
choo choo next stop.....perdition (no, not really...no-one believes this Stygian opacity) 1. look how Time doth ravage thee look what it did to thy visage in smithereens, lies youth it so artfully takes away what is held so dear rivers and streams valleys and hills arching to ecstatic heights plunging to abysmal lows into the ravine of chance stirred by the spoon of Time slowly around the cauldron brews the self-same mixture then poured into chasms of forgetfulness using the eternal sledgehammer it smashes the foundation of thought grinds the nutmeg of speed pulps the fruit of mentality slows the pulse of sensation and pardons none. 2. what was once sensuous and voluptuous lips now are merely two dry slits on your face once stared-into eyeballs, now glass over vitreous cataracts steadily grow, weed-like toned into lithe elastic bands now stretch away into forever, a pale platform to walk on life's morn is encompassed by years' slanting clouded and bedimmed by mists of age butterfly's existence outweighs a man's by mere night-veiled windowpane of true sight draw the curtains; close the shutters; screen the eyes the time has come to shed all blinkers and face the sun. 3. crimp sag limp drag mud cracks down a dipping dale scalding pain sears sore half-foot yes, time is but a disease ravaging all without fear or favour sunken eyes slower reflexes tardier mind scraggly body hides not condescends not forgets not the glimmer of .... a time of ... 4. cathedral invites the walker in cool and calm recesses sit silent wait.... then they walk in, carrying one who had but a lucky half-score lot clear soprano note becomes a rudderless bleat announcing the folly of stifling ego now shorn of burning frost of circuitous fervour beams of mercy cast a final look-see jump the barriers of time to carry thee off. pipe organ-stops are pulled out (art thee ready?  platform number 5) S T,  9 May 2013
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75
Dear Poet Friends, Delhi is well known for its Dust Storms during the hot and humid month of May & June, and the absence of rain! This poem was composed in the Month of May 2008, and posted on ‘Poetfreak.com'.  Hope you like the same. Thanks, - Raj                        DUST  STORM All through the sultry and humid day, The sky had grown angry and reddish grey! And the evening suddenly became very still, As an eerie silence crept there in! When suddenly from the sky came rushing out, Making a prolonged whistling and gushing sound, As if some beastly hounds have been let out, - There came the raging, ravaging, Dust Storm! Lashing the tree tops and smashing window panes , Uprooting old trees by road side and lanes! Ravaging and railing with its destructive force, Blew the angry and relentless dust storm! As papers and packets and old withered leaves, Flew around like thread-less kites on this hot Summer's eve! All my collected thoughts, desires, and dreams, Flew helter-skelter with the winds up high, Like rudderless ships without direction, With the whirlwind in its maddening motion. With dust in my hair, in my eyes and mouth, As the sand storm raged all around and about! When after some time like a spent out force, The storm abated as night drew close. With dust in my hair, in my eyes and mouth, But a pleasant coolness prevailed all around! Dust Am I, And To Dust I Shall Return, ** Once I wake up from my Earthly trance! And with the raging dust storm I shall rage one day, To join up in its maddening dance in the month of May!                     ---Raj Nandy, New Delhi.
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Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 11:36 AM UTC
DUST STORM !
Dear Poet Friends, Delhi is well known for its Dust Storms during the hot and humid month of May & June, and the absence of rain! This poem was composed in the Month of May 2008, and posted on ‘Poetfreak.com'.  Hope you like the same. Thanks, - Raj                        DUST  STORM All through the sultry and humid day, The sky had grown angry and reddish grey! And the evening suddenly became very still, As an eerie silence crept there in! When suddenly from the sky came rushing out, Making a prolonged whistling and gushing sound, As if some beastly hounds have been let out, - There came the raging, ravaging, Dust Storm! Lashing the tree tops and smashing window panes , Uprooting old trees by road side and lanes! Ravaging and railing with its destructive force, Blew the angry and relentless dust storm! As papers and packets and old withered leaves, Flew around like thread-less kites on this hot Summer's eve! All my collected thoughts, desires, and dreams, Flew helter-skelter with the winds up high, Like rudderless ships without direction, With the whirlwind in its maddening motion. With dust in my hair, in my eyes and mouth, As the sand storm raged all around and about! When after some time like a spent out force, The storm abated as night drew close. With dust in my hair, in my eyes and mouth, But a pleasant coolness prevailed all around! Dust Am I, And To Dust I Shall Return, ** Once I wake up from my Earthly trance! And with the raging dust storm I shall rage one day, To join up in its maddening dance in the month of May!                     ---Raj Nandy, New Delhi.
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35
I see the commercials for osteoarthritis. And mentally curse this age of awareness Where we, the audience are forced to see our frail mortality . . . One in three! ONE IN THREE! Mocks the voice on T.V. And suddenly my chest fills with invisible cancers cholesterol, and tumors While diabetes races through my veines. I stagger from the room. Joints now rusted with a touch of arthritis. My breath wheezes from the asthma I never had until this moment. My arteries harden like boa constrictors. And I fall to the floor - breaking a hip as I go down. My memory fades under Alzheimer's wrath. While glaucoma darkens my vision. And ravaging Obesity, consumes my soul.
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Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 2:22 AM UTC
Tragedy by Hypocondria
#*I want you to stay When I ask you to leave I want you to say nice things When it's falling apart for me You asked me To help a dying man -and I did With bruises on my arms A kiss on my lips You ran out of your cigarette I ran out of wine I let the fate ****** all What once was mine You hurt me so good Spinning me around all night Holding me so tight So you don't lose the sight After all, you're the cage I dread A ghost –infatuating my mind You came to burn my soul I've seen the rage, In your dark eyes, I have seen the ravaging fire*#
0
Dec 31, 2018
Dec 31, 2018 at 6:13 AM UTC
Hunt me down, hurt me once again