"repletion" poems
Your eyes devour me...
Her sheets of scented sin
Tasted lips
Quickening the
Whispering heat;
His breath upon her neck...
Peridot eyes, cast silent wishes
Suckling whispered thoughts;
A stream of tangled hunger
Shivered quiet...
Fire tongue skimmed
Autumn's flame,
Rapture
Breathless,
Shades of gold, caressed
Succulent *******
Amber whispered;
Intoxication sweet, a shiver-pour
Thrusting
The drown of midnight silk
Exotic dancing her sensual need...
Tongue jets softly
Hard,
Upon hips gyrate,
Flesh weakened
By the strain of ravage
Welcoming
Libation's drench...
Night's kiss sears
Heated flesh
Bathed in effervescence,
Creamy nectar delight,
A cascade
Between lips of adoration...
And HE...
Wrote his name
Frenzied
Inside her;
Snake hips, pulsing
To repletion,
Raising the satin sheen
Fire crimson with hardened-need........
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 8:35 PM UTC
We all fight our demons… At times, they prevail.
And once we give in, we are fatefully jailed –
By hatred and envy, by lust and ill will,
By malice and greed… Can we bear such a levy?
What happens to us should we rid ourselves
Of the duties, the vows, the commitments we’ve taken?
How long will it take for us to succumb
To the pleasures of flesh and be ever forsaken?
How long till we cry out for help, our tongues
Tied firmly in place by our own repletion?
How long till we see the daylight and admit
There is no going back to relieve our division.
Yet we dream and we hope, and some pray for redemption.
We fight back… And the demons return to the void.
And no fairies exist – not in our dimension.
Yet the demons are real. Hardly can we avoid
The temptations of power, the concoctions of plenty,
And the fight carries on to this day, far and wide.
Every crevice and nook, every palace and shanty
Hold the ones craving nothing but to bask in the light.
19 II 2017
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 8:54 AM UTC
1 If ever I wrote a thousand gospels of Hope, but meanwhile did not love,
I am the empty words of politicians and sycophants.
2 And if ever I knew the world in fine and time and with all shared my mind,
but so burn in hate that I bar any Faith, my words are cinders.
3 And if ever I laid down my life for a friend or died so that you all might live.
If I do not have the Love that did it, the deed meant nothing.
4 Because Love feels far, feels deep, and feels forever.
Love is kind; and it does not whine, chime, or shine.
5 Love is grace. Love sets free.
Love is gentle. Love let’s be.
6 Love is a repletion, the completion of joy despite of,
because of the shared, dark Truths of our twilit souls.
7 "For Love beareth all things, hopeth all things,
endureth all things.
8 Love never faileth:" But when these prophetic words pass,
Love shall live where life and strife wither.
9 For fiery stars we will never see whose light has not come,
And any act, however fierce, is only the orbits of atoms.
10 But when Love came in our lives, all the littlest in
the drowning dark embraced as (w)hol(l)y One.
11 When I was small, I thought and felt and feared small;
but my heart has grown and now can no longer.
12 Anything meant nothing until Love came and
bade us recognize the I in You and You in Me.
13 And where all else fails, there is three: Hope, Faith, and Love.
And greatest of these - Binding Hinge of Life - is Love.
Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 8:44 PM UTC
Bedlam is our repletion, bellicose our rest,
For ever state which we call peace is war of constant test.
This war must share no allies - each warrior a martyr,
And it would stand that every soldier someone calls their daughter.
The instigator Terra, the perpetrator Yahweh,
Instant and perpetual - a bellum night and day.
The resource universal, from sea to ****** sea.
This war is fought o'er any man who might a bachelor be.
Civility and stupor the only neutral face they wear,
But underneath the plaster smile iniquity lies bare.
How cruelly do they cozen, how capricious they connive,
A thousand times more vicious than any man that seeks to wive.
And how they suffer sedulous, their bodies they contort
Into the most pernicious forms, a weapon of a sort:
They don the war paint, pluck the hair, admonish slightest error,
And take to wield those eyes of steel, and bless the world with terror.
Jun 2, 2012
Jun 2, 2012 at 9:43 PM UTC
Solitary ravens perched atop their mothers *****
Constructing transparent barriers
On a plane of possibilities
A concrete mirage rises from symbolic repletion
As the solemn statue views the scene with tragic contempt
Species indifference aborted
As unity is easily cast aside and omitted
Left to brood on a cache of fertility
and navigate the foggy facade
exiled,
hermetic,
as the beaming banner
lazily plays sentry
to the border of the indentured oasis
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 2:01 AM UTC
Outlined in the shadows of dawn,
the vista of ocean softly reveals
a repletion of reflection across the faint musk of light.
I ask myself again if I were able to write a sonnet within
the acres of crystalline perfection,
yet all I can do
is form a mere line
denting the shimmer
of sand.
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 3:14 PM UTC
I. Awaken
Crack of your early dawn, the morning dew fumes.
Like voices in the Arab Spring, your brightest thoughts bloom.
Zooming past a childish phase of naiveté,
Your days of blissful ignorance are due today.
II. Replete
Loving someone else, the heart cavorts like airborne pollen.
Loving your own self? It's different. It ignites a spark of confidence.
You'll bask in the ambience of self-assured clairvoyance.
Like a seraph, like a quasar, you'll blaze with prominence!
III. Believe
Stand fast in eons of ideas clashing like rapids in the Amazon.
Conjure your kind of affirmation. Brand it in mankind's lexicon.
Don't fret. Don't falter. Don't let anyone cast you asunder!
For deep inside, you know you bear an ironclad banner.
IV. Dream
Aspirations shall coat you like an illustrious cape of a ruler.
To your life’s questions, they’ll help you find the answer.
Look up to the stars! They will surely help you remember;
That a person like you always deserves the better.
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 8:45 AM UTC
Another love song sang into the wind
Another rainbow with no beginning
Another sad poem about these things
Another me strolling into town
No more lost than found
Or falling asleep in the lounge
As cotton filled as just another couch
I never expected anything more
From both life or the cornerstore
I never thought of both any differnt
Than plain old common repletion and persistence
Life is but life
Like traffic after four at night
Just another thing to get through
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 10:17 AM UTC
After annual bustle of end's festival feasts
2016, sagging under repletion,
blinks crusty lids and remembers December.
The time for retiring infuses old heart-beats
with intention of losing as top rank yields
to immature youth pretentiously present.
As New Year's first birth-cry appears bristling
with fervour the white whiskered
Sage denies more twelve-monthly contracts.
Wisely de-throned a King's brisk move permits
sight of things not as yet seen, quickens
time's costly broom to sweep free any lost past.
So as stale dies back may the un-tried drench
every mind with opportune's freshest
for regrets bear naught to the weaving of new
.
Wishing dear friends that 2017 brings a scent
of real riches, gifting you peace, health
and moments of memorable happenings too.
With warm New-Year hugs to all - from Fay.
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 4:08 PM UTC
Clap for my in fake sympathy, my words are
blurred mages of how I really feel. repletion's
Time is a distortion of what is spent just a thought
of an existence no longer pliable in this moment.
But a fossilised repetition of what was but now extinct
now extinct but like history relived in my thoughts.
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 5:28 PM UTC
The foundation starts to crumble,
building like a muscle spasm
seemingly suddenly
but the chasm’s not shallow.
A throbbing pulsation,
intensity multiplying
through a fragile vein
where the weak start to stumble.
There are cracks in the sidewalk,
disjointed like tendon
shouting through the pain
of childhood stained in chalk.
And the moment’s not passing.
The golem’s gnawing,
crushing bone into sand
into dust into hand.
The grinding screeching metal
causing the spark to ignite
the forgotten weeded mind
which fights but won’t settle.
Then the clenched power courses,
telling lies in righteousness
crying, “this won’t end!”
unless you stop it.
But the repletion of madness
tears the blood from the knife.
The throat is open.
The mountain’s *****
punching holes into families.
The swinging freedom of
unconscious motion
finds a target in innocence
if exists such a myth.
Sweltering demented meltdown
eroding this tail wagging acceptance,
ripping at the skin of freewill,
proving a point.
That monster has no soul.
that demon stares backward,
smiling from the pages
of mankind’s fiction.
“Burn!” he hollers.
Suffer and burn.
You are my children
in the lake of fire.
Only when it dries,
staining the lips of emotion
can those eyes see once more-
there is a person buried beneath.
A man in the devil’s jacket.
A man.
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 10:58 PM UTC
Actual lesson notes on life
left for your evaluation
if you read on,
is your time, in attentive state, reading state,
narrow beam
focus, military grade - worth spending here?
Attention to the details that fit the picture,
it seems my kind
learns in caves, by nature,
we crawl into deep dark places
and live freely until we die and leave
but traces of the we entranced here now.
Come and see, as the word of god,
bade me begin or be ******
The advisor chuckled, an actual gulp-chortle
while saying in his most complexmental way,
I love your use of the word
******
I went away convinced, this was the way
to now,
you reading into the book of life the part
that proves your worth is not
found in your tolerating Proust,
but denying my worth is measured
on you sense of the worth, given proper
pro-nuncial prowess at play, say
with the arrogance of elliot… in the Magicians
on TV, not the waste land, good
lord, who would besmirch the genius
at the top of curios arts charts
tip\top pop the bubble, boiling brew of elders
grown knowing all along
trees have souls,
in shady groves
where others did evil,
vain repletion's, expletive
- ecall newsome, trump the ***** queen
deleted.
Sep 4, 2021
Sep 4, 2021 at 4:16 PM UTC