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"rekindled" poems
We conquer all worlds, Sweet creature: melt my soul, freshly thawed, vulnerability exposed. Eager for unbridled wickedness, within lilting rhythms of your magic. So inviting, such interwoven seduction, I discover that you are indeed, She. The Mistress who cannot be denied, so take my hand, I shall guide you, while you, Dark sweet demigod, Guide me to intoxicating magic, magic that is you: and you alone. Pour your evil charms upon me, Stoke dying embers of my neglected power. See the flames rekindled; feel the comforting ice of my being, savour my destructive cold fire. Let me soothe you in return, offering delicious despicable deeds. Havoc wrought in your name. The demonic glow inside grows, until I fear nothing, Dark Mistress. I am exalted in this vile inferno, A conflagration of our own creation. Dark destiny shall not desert us,   but shall become the favoured guide. I shall never be without you, Dark Mistress, and together, We conquer all worlds. © Paul Chafer 2014
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Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 8:52 AM UTC
Dark Mistress
when the moon has finally succumbed to the flirtatious will of night and even stars grow weary of guarding peaceful slumbers the sneaky temptress twilight makes her move and slithers through my window as she glides into my bed, I can tell she is up to her old tricks my eyes forget to close and my mind forgets to sleep the darkened outlines of my room crumble as each breath escapes my lips and now I remember where I've hidden you, blue eyed boy how strange a sensation to remember your body a rekindled sullen mood your arms are a heavy warmth against my waist and your legs are clumsy giants that wrestle with mine all night yes, this is how it feels when your cheek nuzzles the nape of my neck and even here, your breathing rumbles like a storm rolling out to sea Your heavy exhales compose a sensual melody as each crescendo crashes against my clavicle I'm at the mercy of your lingering shadow I'm the casualty of the pressure in this room I want to stop breathing because I feel that I could make love to you in the blackened air my hands trace out your handsome face and place two gems for your brilliant eyes and caress the sharp angles of your cheek your lips were delicate so I use only my right hand I'd give myself to you so honestly this time but here, loneliness slowly swells your lungs a tar that coats the lining of your throat you are a cruel asphyxiation brought on by the mystic twilight herself but her ruse won't last forever I'll drift off into the sweet solace of sleep and ponder on how you love me more when my bed is empty, blue eyed boy
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Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 12:50 AM UTC
blue eyed boy
when the moon has finally succumbed to the flirtatious will of night and even stars grow weary of guarding peaceful slumbers the sneaky temptress twilight makes her move and slithers through my window as she glides into my bed, I can tell she is up to her old tricks my eyes forget to close and my mind forgets to sleep the darkened outlines of my room crumble as each breath escapes my lips and now I remember where I've hidden you, blue eyed boy how strange a sensation to remember your body a rekindled sullen mood your arms are a heavy warmth against my waist and your legs are clumsy giants that wrestle with mine all night yes, this is how it feels when your cheek nuzzles the nape of my neck and even here, your breathing rumbles like a storm rolling out to sea Your heavy exhales compose a sensual melody as each crescendo crashes against my clavicle I'm at the mercy of your lingering shadow I'm the casualty of the pressure in this room I want to stop breathing because I feel that I could make love to you in the blackened air my hands trace out your handsome face and place two gems for your brilliant eyes and caress the sharp angles of your cheek your lips were delicate so I use only my right hand I'd give myself to you so honestly this time but here, loneliness slowly swells your lungs a tar that coats the lining of your throat you are a cruel asphyxiation brought on by the mystic twilight herself but her ruse won't last forever I'll drift off into the sweet solace of sleep and ponder on how you love me more when my bed is empty, blue eyed boy
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29
Birds have their homes. This bird made this world, Its own home. When other birds struggled To make friends beyond their homes, This bird made followers and comrades, Transformed them The perseverent leaders of a challenging mission It put its foot on Argentina and Set its victorious fight in Cuba. Availed losses in Congo Voiced and breathed every millisecond Struggled recklessly for a mission, Freedom, peace & prosperity of all its fellow birds Beyond borders. The most superior of the superior birds With an infinite and complex strings of cunningness Put an end to this bird in Bolivia. At the end, the bird failed Fell a prey for other selfish birds. As a root that fell and Buried itself in the soil with an infinite power. To give hope and shelter, To all those who come under it, For the near future and coming generations The bird died! But its mission ignited the phoenix flames In its bird comrades. Got them to fight for Every drop of Injustice, Imperialism and hatred That came racing towards them As an inescapable bullet Their hearts raised in spirit When every drop of its thought Hit them more fierce than The world’s most powerful atomic bomb. The bird died. But its ideals for the mission Rekindled the fires in their heart. Being born an ordinary bird, Fighting for the most demanded & toughest mission, Its thought and principles Set new leaders to fight the unattainable mission Now, looking the most possible Within an attaining distance The bird lived its life, An ordinary and the most challenging one. But transformed a phoenix, When it left the world. And created more of Daring Phoenix warriors; Attain a world filled with peace and happiness.
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Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 9:14 AM UTC
Phoenix for the humanity
Birds have their homes. This bird made this world, Its own home. When other birds struggled To make friends beyond their homes, This bird made followers and comrades, Transformed them The perseverent leaders of a challenging mission It put its foot on Argentina and Set its victorious fight in Cuba. Availed losses in Congo Voiced and breathed every millisecond Struggled recklessly for a mission, Freedom, peace & prosperity of all its fellow birds Beyond borders. The most superior of the superior birds With an infinite and complex strings of cunningness Put an end to this bird in Bolivia. At the end, the bird failed Fell a prey for other selfish birds. As a root that fell and Buried itself in the soil with an infinite power. To give hope and shelter, To all those who come under it, For the near future and coming generations The bird died! But its mission ignited the phoenix flames In its bird comrades. Got them to fight for Every drop of Injustice, Imperialism and hatred That came racing towards them As an inescapable bullet Their hearts raised in spirit When every drop of its thought Hit them more fierce than The world’s most powerful atomic bomb. The bird died. But its ideals for the mission Rekindled the fires in their heart. Being born an ordinary bird, Fighting for the most demanded & toughest mission, Its thought and principles Set new leaders to fight the unattainable mission Now, looking the most possible Within an attaining distance The bird lived its life, An ordinary and the most challenging one. But transformed a phoenix, When it left the world. And created more of Daring Phoenix warriors; Attain a world filled with peace and happiness.
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52
I. Your touch is like bones breaking; unforgettable, and breathtaking.    I know that normally people don't associate love with broken bones   but even when you cause me pain, I am still so effortlessly in love. II. On the day that you made me yours,      you rekindled a fire in me that I thought     had long since died. III. And in those eyes that resemble speckled emeralds,       I see a future brighter than I could have made for myself.      The feeling is treacherous, to love someone more than yourself. IV. The thought of you lingers in my bone marrow,       and it doesn't leave, not even in sleep,         you live within my bloodstream. V. You ignite a fire inside me,      hotter than I knew was possible in relative existence,     and every day I burn for you, slow and consistent. VI. Sometimes I wish you would strip me down       and love me like a limited resource,       like I'm a priceless medal, or gem of iridescent hue. VII. You're the type of guy that gets me to put my phone down         and that's an accomplishment in itself.         you're more interesting than the internet, and that's romanticism. VIII. Your kiss is like electricity, but instead of electrocution,          you send shivers down my spine,         and put the sparkle in my eyes. IX. They say that home is where the heart is,       and before I met you, I'd never been home before,       you are my home. X. I've run out of words to tell you how much I love you     so now my next mission is to transcribe a new language,     to do just that.
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Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 10:16 PM UTC
10 Three Line Love Letters for the Love of my Life
I. Your touch is like bones breaking; unforgettable, and breathtaking.    I know that normally people don't associate love with broken bones   but even when you cause me pain, I am still so effortlessly in love. II. On the day that you made me yours,      you rekindled a fire in me that I thought     had long since died. III. And in those eyes that resemble speckled emeralds,       I see a future brighter than I could have made for myself.      The feeling is treacherous, to love someone more than yourself. IV. The thought of you lingers in my bone marrow,       and it doesn't leave, not even in sleep,         you live within my bloodstream. V. You ignite a fire inside me,      hotter than I knew was possible in relative existence,     and every day I burn for you, slow and consistent. VI. Sometimes I wish you would strip me down       and love me like a limited resource,       like I'm a priceless medal, or gem of iridescent hue. VII. You're the type of guy that gets me to put my phone down         and that's an accomplishment in itself.         you're more interesting than the internet, and that's romanticism. VIII. Your kiss is like electricity, but instead of electrocution,          you send shivers down my spine,         and put the sparkle in my eyes. IX. They say that home is where the heart is,       and before I met you, I'd never been home before,       you are my home. X. I've run out of words to tell you how much I love you     so now my next mission is to transcribe a new language,     to do just that.
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30
A series of short puffs from a rekindled cigarette expertly put out on the half reminds you of your fastidiousness now you feel like **** as you look at the wreckage site of a desk that is your own doing        That is what you do. While your ego floats like the unmelted coffee you put in cold water Hardly dissolvable to anything normal missing anything temporal You lash out once more waging a war with a nation of thoughts You kick the furniture to send the dust flying        That is what you do. You attempt to sheathe an intricate wound patterned on your knuckle, as detailed as the dystopia of your own human agenda that can be trivialized by just "I haven't been myself lately" when somebody asks because you're afraid they might see you find it hard to belong Slowly, the dust resorts to settle on the bedroom floor        And so do you.
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Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 4:31 AM UTC
I Haven't Been Myself Lately
This candlelight has been witness to both hatred and love To shouts of anger born from throats reddened raw Smashed mugs and smashed china and half-mended smashed hearts But to passion, forgiveness, old flames both rekindled and small. Candlelight lit from matches or flint Such lovely low light supplied to romantic nothings (“Does it really matter which?” you’d asked me then, eyes to the sky. And I’d nodded, because it did.) And I remember the first time I saw you by candlelight. Shattered bulbs had left us with nothing but flames under stars And I’m glad I first found you by such unforgettable light Not lackluster memory that passed me by Because now, alone beneath imaginary hatches You light up the room by candle wax and boxed matches.
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Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 7:26 PM UTC
Candles and Constellations
I look up at the starless sky Without the stars who should be there Sharing this moment with me This moment that hold no significance While I look, I miss the sky I miss the stars I miss the light they provide All that’s left is the moon All alone that poor moon is Glowing in the dark When it should be glowing in the light Just like me, alone when we should have others I feel the moon’s sorrow For I feel the same The empty sky is no place No place for either of us I wonder what happened Those poor little flecks of light One day here The next day gone Not a single word was said About their disappearance All forget about them Except for the moon and I Every night I would look Waiting for the stars to come back To see the moon no longer alone To see the sky back alight Every night I would look And ever y time I would despair For the stars are still gone And show no sign of returning I hear the moon weep The man on the moon weeps The tears silent But the sorrow is deafening After eons passed The stars did not return I waited, and so did the moon Finding comfort in each other’s presence There are some nights When the moon is gone And the sky is dark Missing the moon I detest those nights Fearing the worst That the moon had gone And joined the stars My fears never came to pass For the moon would always return At first a sliver Then it would all be back Even in the darkness of space The moon kept it bright A single candle in the darkness Burning ever bright I went out one night to see the moon That was my reason now For I knew the stars were gone But the moon was still there And on that one special night I realized with keep insight That not all the stars were gone That one was still left For the moon was not a candle But a mirror It reflected the light off another The light of the Sun I told the moon what I figured And the moon was joyous For not all the stars had left The Sun was still there And armed with that fact That one star was still there A glimmer of hope rekindled And I knew what I had to do I said farewell to the moon It knew what I was doing I left for the sky To bring back the stars
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Jul 25, 2010
Jul 25, 2010 at 8:00 PM UTC
Starless Sky
I look up at the starless sky Without the stars who should be there Sharing this moment with me This moment that hold no significance While I look, I miss the sky I miss the stars I miss the light they provide All that’s left is the moon All alone that poor moon is Glowing in the dark When it should be glowing in the light Just like me, alone when we should have others I feel the moon’s sorrow For I feel the same The empty sky is no place No place for either of us I wonder what happened Those poor little flecks of light One day here The next day gone Not a single word was said About their disappearance All forget about them Except for the moon and I Every night I would look Waiting for the stars to come back To see the moon no longer alone To see the sky back alight Every night I would look And ever y time I would despair For the stars are still gone And show no sign of returning I hear the moon weep The man on the moon weeps The tears silent But the sorrow is deafening After eons passed The stars did not return I waited, and so did the moon Finding comfort in each other’s presence There are some nights When the moon is gone And the sky is dark Missing the moon I detest those nights Fearing the worst That the moon had gone And joined the stars My fears never came to pass For the moon would always return At first a sliver Then it would all be back Even in the darkness of space The moon kept it bright A single candle in the darkness Burning ever bright I went out one night to see the moon That was my reason now For I knew the stars were gone But the moon was still there And on that one special night I realized with keep insight That not all the stars were gone That one was still left For the moon was not a candle But a mirror It reflected the light off another The light of the Sun I told the moon what I figured And the moon was joyous For not all the stars had left The Sun was still there And armed with that fact That one star was still there A glimmer of hope rekindled And I knew what I had to do I said farewell to the moon It knew what I was doing I left for the sky To bring back the stars
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80
I kiss you and it seems like the stars shine for us and waves crash along the musky shores for us But then I realize, the us that once sent my stomach in a frenzy of butterflies is not the same. And I find my self holding on to something that does not exist. And I cry. My tears are an ode to a person who I've loved so long but with every fiber of my being I know,no longer exists. People change. Your smile has changed. We met at the wrong time, at least that's what I keep telling myself. Maybe, Years from now, We'll meet again, in some extraordinary way. And love with be rekindled. And your smile will be the same. And I won't spend time wondering if you are my way of compensating with a love deficit. ER.
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Nov 6, 2012
Nov 6, 2012 at 1:32 AM UTC
Holding On
The sakura petals, whose life spans are so short lived, begin to wilt, and with their falling blossoms, my old love dies out, it's flame, never again to be rekindled, They wilt away as the breeze air carries them far from my loving tears, he had found a new destiny, a new love, whose petals beam a brighter shade of pink, that wind only made me shiver in loneliness, it's bitterness held by jealousy, but than it brought with it a sweet sensation, 'I'm glad to see his sunny smile return' even if another had cast it, at least he could find his own happiness once again, farewell my dearest love, and may the your smile never again forsake you
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Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC
Falling Sakura Petals
/ although i'd love to go back to the cinema of, bell, book & candle from the 1950s in early technicolour... can i? don't think so... trapped the rekindled narrative of myth... i wish i could, do the supra-capitalist, drunk at 5 in the afternoon, and still pulling the strings... early nostalgia of what was late nostalgia of what was 19th century german concerning ancient greece... i chose 17th century france... because? because... why could it ever be england as primo optio?! am i either that daft, or as much stiff for waiting for eddie zee theerd?! well? well done, you guessed my thinking: write a fictive narrative, it'll last longer, like a photograph. immigrant song, led zeppelin - probably the only grand theatre plus,           of thor: rangarok; i still don't know where those M16s came from...   and?       given they used a led zeppelin's song? i honestly, don't want to know. i was honestly going to favour a black sabbath oeuvre, using only solitude    by the witches' congregation ask, aspect, or subsequent, marketing ponce scheme.
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Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 12:50 AM UTC
modern cinema
To death in love! The eye of ones heart closes for their beloved, their most precious treasure of them all clouded by emotions stored for them deep within Unanswered love leads to a stinging mind of the subscocious, caught and rose by a burning ember of feelings, turning into an inferno, Blinded by it, they will not acknowledge the falsities of their partner, nor their mistakes or even their treaciousness, as for them he is perfect, conciously imaged as the ideal and the best they ever had, But no! God forbids, they learn about the art of blinding love while they sink to the bottom of a sea of passion and affection, in a last remote of a courtain call to simple yet manifest carelessness, Small lies lead to grand falsities overlooked by a noncaring closed eye Rekindled in a dream they rather follow their instincs than the truth, Illusions cast by embers of love deep within the unconcious, like a courtain to be blocked from all light, holding on to dear of what is loved and cherished, praised and adored, an emotion leading stray, The philosophy of a hated person, would be to never close the open eye of ones heart, so you fall not too hard when you begin to love, But when all falls apart, realisation is like the thorns of countless roses It is the heart sign of selfless love. ~ Umi
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Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 8:52 AM UTC
Untitled
A dying romance given love and care blossoms love is rekindled
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Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 2:09 AM UTC
A Dying Romance
Panic's jewel... Or, is that pride? Poor relenting, to you... The question of irony on your side? Places and things, together With a real appetite for life's regency So, sophisticated, the liberty of kind to bother An open air, of a wish that found deception's history...? My undone mercy, my marveling hope Is with a ghost of a chance, the truth In a guarded fist, to promise a shared cope? If any pout of lore, is a wish that sought your youth... I will follow... Despairing consciences, with a blinking stare at honor That defies home for one thing only, that is to harrow... The dread in a tear, found for a salt that told a story: Once upon a time, and the tenderness of couth To wake upon a simple bed, the taste of harmony in league With itself, the role of unity and vice, come the riches of who Is a part defined, and who is a smarter focus divine, of each? Which will the tows of remorse... Work as we said, they have the skill's of duress to laud And heraldry of a looming proportion, to understand the worse The life of another lords prophet, the can and the callous odd... Here is such, the lies or levity we fate With a rekindled fire, for what is a stranger look, of desperation Sincerity or since charity is a fool for itself, the world of sate Is a kindness only a lover could afford, the very gift of intimation? Tomorrow? And the ides of heathen politeness, are here To simply move forward and borrow The truth in an order and repute, that has oneself to bless, with another's fear...?
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Jun 25, 2022
Jun 25, 2022 at 1:25 AM UTC
Pillows That Talk Back, Too...?
Panic's jewel... Or, is that pride? Poor relenting, to you... The question of irony on your side? Places and things, together With a real appetite for life's regency So, sophisticated, the liberty of kind to bother An open air, of a wish that found deception's history...? My undone mercy, my marveling hope Is with a ghost of a chance, the truth In a guarded fist, to promise a shared cope? If any pout of lore, is a wish that sought your youth... I will follow... Despairing consciences, with a blinking stare at honor That defies home for one thing only, that is to harrow... The dread in a tear, found for a salt that told a story: Once upon a time, and the tenderness of couth To wake upon a simple bed, the taste of harmony in league With itself, the role of unity and vice, come the riches of who Is a part defined, and who is a smarter focus divine, of each? Which will the tows of remorse... Work as we said, they have the skill's of duress to laud And heraldry of a looming proportion, to understand the worse The life of another lords prophet, the can and the callous odd... Here is such, the lies or levity we fate With a rekindled fire, for what is a stranger look, of desperation Sincerity or since charity is a fool for itself, the world of sate Is a kindness only a lover could afford, the very gift of intimation? Tomorrow? And the ides of heathen politeness, are here To simply move forward and borrow The truth in an order and repute, that has oneself to bless, with another's fear...?
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32
You're my addiction. My sweet addiction. My painful addiction. Just as an addict never truly overcomes his addiction, I will never, ever be over you. But you knew that didn't you? I'll see a light one day and pull myself out of your shadow, then I'll relapse. You know how it goes. The rekindled hope. The fear that goes along with it, because what if that hope leads nowhere at all? The smiles when I get your texts or see you come in the door. The breath that catches in my throat when you smile, or laugh, or do just about anything. Oh I could have loved you. The things I would have done for you, sacrificed for you- You really don't get it do you? You don't think you're worth it, I've seen it in your eyes. But I want to grab your face and whisper, "You are worth it. You deserve it all, anything you want (and I hope you want me). You. Are. Worthy." Tonight I'm just angry with you, I'm fuming in my bed as a write this at 12:32. But give me a few more weeks and I'll relapse again- Just back where I started. No really, it would be back where I started because the thing is (the really pathetic detail is): I grew up loving you. The weeks we spent at summer camp taught me how to love a boy like you. They taught me how to laugh and how to live. They taught me all about you. When I relapse with you, I relapse with something else too. I relapse with scars and tears and of course regret. Because isn't that always how it goes? The world must stay in balance. That's why power comes with responsibility, hope with fear, and love... with pain. And I'm addicted to every bit of it.
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Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 3:33 AM UTC
Relapse
You're my addiction. My sweet addiction. My painful addiction. Just as an addict never truly overcomes his addiction, I will never, ever be over you. But you knew that didn't you? I'll see a light one day and pull myself out of your shadow, then I'll relapse. You know how it goes. The rekindled hope. The fear that goes along with it, because what if that hope leads nowhere at all? The smiles when I get your texts or see you come in the door. The breath that catches in my throat when you smile, or laugh, or do just about anything. Oh I could have loved you. The things I would have done for you, sacrificed for you- You really don't get it do you? You don't think you're worth it, I've seen it in your eyes. But I want to grab your face and whisper, "You are worth it. You deserve it all, anything you want (and I hope you want me). You. Are. Worthy." Tonight I'm just angry with you, I'm fuming in my bed as a write this at 12:32. But give me a few more weeks and I'll relapse again- Just back where I started. No really, it would be back where I started because the thing is (the really pathetic detail is): I grew up loving you. The weeks we spent at summer camp taught me how to love a boy like you. They taught me how to laugh and how to live. They taught me all about you. When I relapse with you, I relapse with something else too. I relapse with scars and tears and of course regret. Because isn't that always how it goes? The world must stay in balance. That's why power comes with responsibility, hope with fear, and love... with pain. And I'm addicted to every bit of it.
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60
1468 A winged spark doth soar about— I never met it near For Lightning it is oft mistook When nights are hot and sere— Its twinkling Travels it pursues Above the Haunts of men— A speck of Rapture—first perceived By feeling it is gone— Rekindled by some action quaint
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2.8k
A winged spark doth soar about—
Alright Jezebel is that not who you are? How much of your soul are you going to sell? With your chest pushed high and your **** in the air. With the smile you bare and the wink you blink. The fruit for the trick to get their fix behind blind eyes. Your secrets hidden away through your faults beauty and enticement. A walk that attracts nothing but the **** You put your self on the proverbial block. Though on the outside you converted and claim outwardly to the king of kings God and Christ. Though believe like a Pharisee. A marionette innocents for all to see.    Yet even a Pharisee doesn't hold the many lies you've told. For even they are the best known hypocrites that Christ warned and spoke against. Telling everyone your married, or so you say with a bold face. Yet you go out at night to collect your lies by spreading your thighs for material and lust. Helping to destroy families to commit adultery with theirs and your own. You lost your Grace and the Holy Spirit depart.  Now you gain worldly excitement and shame. Living your life amongst the dogs. In a fad life style fed to you. Taking it as wholesome, knowing better. So it is to be said your like a lost little Lam  on your way to self destruction. Without a care of the afflictions. You allow yourself to be used like a Devils tool, yet tell yourself your not a toy.. May it go to show you are becoming Lucifer's proprietary embodiment. Only to think you have the upper hand.   Shown by your eyes that is a window to the soul exposing wickedness!   Though on the deep inside is there not yet another cloak?? Do you not cry at night with heavy sorrow when you look in the mirror for the truth to be whole and despise the girl you have yet let blossom to become the ultimate woman that is there. Pretending to be some one your not. So you are a lantern in need of a new candle wanting to be rekindled. How cold you must be to have so many layers. But that's what you get when you become a player. A sweet and sour flavor. You say "Don't Hate!" Though to walk up right on the path of truth would attract in your self a better person. Why not  accept your self for the real you. The one mistakenly hidden so deep inside. Is that not who you are? Instead you bed with the heartless desires  you give your self too to become a trophy. The mold you have created of yourself only mocks at the real you. The inner you fading and becoming transparent. Now with out a care you have become fake, vile and foul. Yes he who has no sin cast the first stone. So it should not be thrown. Heavenly Father I pray for her!!!
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Jul 13, 2011
Jul 13, 2011 at 2:17 PM UTC
Jezebel
Alright Jezebel is that not who you are? How much of your soul are you going to sell? With your chest pushed high and your **** in the air. With the smile you bare and the wink you blink. The fruit for the trick to get their fix behind blind eyes. Your secrets hidden away through your faults beauty and enticement. A walk that attracts nothing but the **** You put your self on the proverbial block. Though on the outside you converted and claim outwardly to the king of kings God and Christ. Though believe like a Pharisee. A marionette innocents for all to see.    Yet even a Pharisee doesn't hold the many lies you've told. For even they are the best known hypocrites that Christ warned and spoke against. Telling everyone your married, or so you say with a bold face. Yet you go out at night to collect your lies by spreading your thighs for material and lust. Helping to destroy families to commit adultery with theirs and your own. You lost your Grace and the Holy Spirit depart.  Now you gain worldly excitement and shame. Living your life amongst the dogs. In a fad life style fed to you. Taking it as wholesome, knowing better. So it is to be said your like a lost little Lam  on your way to self destruction. Without a care of the afflictions. You allow yourself to be used like a Devils tool, yet tell yourself your not a toy.. May it go to show you are becoming Lucifer's proprietary embodiment. Only to think you have the upper hand.   Shown by your eyes that is a window to the soul exposing wickedness!   Though on the deep inside is there not yet another cloak?? Do you not cry at night with heavy sorrow when you look in the mirror for the truth to be whole and despise the girl you have yet let blossom to become the ultimate woman that is there. Pretending to be some one your not. So you are a lantern in need of a new candle wanting to be rekindled. How cold you must be to have so many layers. But that's what you get when you become a player. A sweet and sour flavor. You say "Don't Hate!" Though to walk up right on the path of truth would attract in your self a better person. Why not  accept your self for the real you. The one mistakenly hidden so deep inside. Is that not who you are? Instead you bed with the heartless desires  you give your self too to become a trophy. The mold you have created of yourself only mocks at the real you. The inner you fading and becoming transparent. Now with out a care you have become fake, vile and foul. Yes he who has no sin cast the first stone. So it should not be thrown. Heavenly Father I pray for her!!!
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4
Love nearly ignited, but then An extinguisher of thought Put a stop to that, The flame was nearly gone Sparks, Light, Heat Was so small, exhausted little thing, "Till that day" "Till that kiss" Then a candle flame burnt In the heart, It was if I had never Felt, Touched, "Thoughts were wavering" But I would not let this flame Be silenced as before, My heart was aglow Warmth not felt since long ago, I felt dazed with every touch A kiss would be a journey "Moments of bliss" Where two lips met, Words weren't needed Our hands told each the Emotions, Meaning, Gripped, In each others arms, Never again would I let feelings Be doused, extinguished, This time I'm letting love lead, "No matter what happens" I will once again let this feeling guide my way.
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Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
Rekindled Emotions
Long ago, I remember, we paid the lone-guard twenty pesos apiece to camp on top of the temple, to experience something cosmic. And after he left, we stripped down to our bareness & kissed under the milky-stars with howlers squealing a backdrop melody. I lost myself that night. Tracing your lips with my tongue, I felt the cool jungle air swirling around us, you did not fight me as I melted inside you. I swear the jaguars rejoiced that night, as we had rekindled the acts of the sacred gods. It was more than cosmic, more than stellar, I felt the poles shift our hearts.
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Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 12:17 PM UTC
The Temple of The Jaguar
Pacing the floor in the middle of this watching the kettle 'til steam starts to hiss A strange fascination we have with the bliss with nothing behind us but one heated kiss. Underneath an umbrella I stand in the rain and wait on the platform for the six o'clock train well you never quite hold me and I rarely complain and soaked with frustration I walk home again. We bid for each other in some Chinese auction and you got the ***** one mixed up concoction we checked out our prizes at a much closer range What were we thinking and can we exchange? And without any memories to dry up the tears we long for the fire and the comfort of years but it's just one more lesson, a good one we learned. the slow-cooker is better and we're less often burned. And then as I ponder you come in the door I smile at your tired eyes and looking for more I stir up the *** as you take off your Totes and you ask me to make you some Five-Minute Oats. "I made 'em already to warm up your cockles the seat of your heart and without the debacles I sensed that the cold rain would stir the desire so I whipped up a batch and rekindled the fire". And inspite of my rambling it seems rather clear that Five-Minute Oats can mean something more dear it's that person who waits in your kitchen above stirring Five Minute oats into passionate love. -Gina Morrone
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Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 3:20 AM UTC
Five-Minute Oats
How quickly that ember started to glow when after so long I saw you again I could not imagine the feelings would ignite when I saw your sweet face and felt your embrace Thirty and five years since we parted and in a minute your embrace rekindled my love But we are not free to nurture the glow for time has passed and others have captured our hearts Perhaps it would have been best to let the memories of the past remain dormant Than rekindle a fire that can not continue
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Apr 19, 2012
Apr 19, 2012 at 7:00 PM UTC
Rekindled
Growing up was not in the spoken word of the country of origin, parental choice was the language of the country of birth, lost were the years when learned idiomatic expressions would                                        now be automatic, as growing would have it, one language was enough, and was lavished, while the parents, moved and moved, to a hockey town, with a mountain named, after the color of blood, and another mountain, like Granite. All that has been lost, drags behind, pulling toward home, tongues and time, both lost on this life, cities and memories out of reach, the pity. travelling home alone, with only strangers to greet you, treating you, like a visitor, who knows better, once you say your last name, flames of memory lit and rekindled, the smile either stays or vanishes as they embrace or banish, who your Ancestors were to them, lost on the city history, tongue spoken a foreign exchange, eyes down cast never focussing, like you did locusts bring and they carried a little of the past, each one a story with as many exaggerated, laughs as honest chuckles, and your will buckles and you admit, this place is my home
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Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
Lost Cities and Languages
Find your identity   Not in your Suffering, No, we survive trauma But keep on living because Someone loved us once Told us we can achieve Anything Fail I may but there’s comfort In the safe heaven of your warmth Yes, you guide me to a path Of self-discovery, until I Realised my full potential Grandmother’s prayer Spirit rekindled Arise The entire universe is wrapped Around your slender neck which translates as; Woman you Are so God **** Beautiful God done made you, Beautifully crafted in a raw material Known as melanin with a heart of gold And your eyes contains all the light God used to make all humans For the love of God, celebrate you For you smile in the face of adversaries You raise the bar and brake records At the setting of the dawn, and if anyone Should look down on you Made you feel inconsequential Do not curse Know your identity You are not your mistakes, No, not even painful childhood Memories can define you Woman your fireflies heart Raptures in brilliance Constantly, Which allows you To never doubt your worth You are ingrained with love Yes, you are the best version of you Even in difficult circumstance I admire that bravery Down your spine
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Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 12:59 AM UTC
Dedicated to all the women in my life