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"resuscitates" poems
As mother nature's Punitive measure Against a society In maintaining The statuesque That doesn't bother, Our rivers Had become subject To a water thirst, To the extent Of projecting Rocky ribs Terrifyingly protruded out For easy count! But now thanks to The all-out, terrace making And reafforestation effort Of each catchment Farmers have made a point And also  to the afforestation Move of the government Rivers aside from quenching Their insatiable thirst Have resumed To brim over With floods Drinking water To their hearts' content. Our forests once stripped of Their wooded cover Have started, fast, to recover From afar they are seen Robed eye-catching green From a fry-pan sky Allowing a shelter Also busy Carbon to sequester. Wild animals That migrated Have preferred Back their way to find. Now farmers don't have Deep to dig To sink a water well Or find a nearby spring. Birds are heard chirruping Be it winter, summer or spring, While Brooks bubbling. Buzzing and hovering From this to that flower Bees are producing Organic honey by the hour. Promising a bumper harvest Farmer's plots have Fortunately continued To resuscitate! Those leaving Their denuded abode behind Away, who preferred To stay 'We will return back home soon! ' Is what They  say. Happily enough Mother nature Affords us a second chance Imbued with Environment stewardship If  we are willing to mend Our wrong 'Feast today famine tomorrow! ' stance. To dispel the spectre Of climate change And systematically face The global challenge True to the adage 'We have either to swim together or sink together! ' Hence in fighting the challenge Or adapting to the change Back scratching, We have to be on the same page. Indeed, irrigation must Not slip our mind For erratic rainfall A  lasting solution If we must find.// Once a famous Ethiopian Poet  Pro.Debebe Seifu Who had passed away had  penned down a picturesque poem lamenting the land degradation, deforestation and change of climate the country was suffering.The bad scenario seemed unrecoverable.Now a days Ethiopia is reversing that sad episode.I have therefore to write a poem on this #change   #trees   #erosion   #climate   #deforestation   #enviroment   #degeradation   #desertification
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Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 4:22 AM UTC
Fortunately it resuscitates
As mother nature's Punitive measure Against a society In maintaining The statuesque That doesn't bother, Our rivers Had become subject To a water thirst, To the extent Of projecting Rocky ribs Terrifyingly protruded out For easy count! But now thanks to The all-out, terrace making And reafforestation effort Of each catchment Farmers have made a point And also  to the afforestation Move of the government Rivers aside from quenching Their insatiable thirst Have resumed To brim over With floods Drinking water To their hearts' content. Our forests once stripped of Their wooded cover Have started, fast, to recover From afar they are seen Robed eye-catching green From a fry-pan sky Allowing a shelter Also busy Carbon to sequester. Wild animals That migrated Have preferred Back their way to find. Now farmers don't have Deep to dig To sink a water well Or find a nearby spring. Birds are heard chirruping Be it winter, summer or spring, While Brooks bubbling. Buzzing and hovering From this to that flower Bees are producing Organic honey by the hour. Promising a bumper harvest Farmer's plots have Fortunately continued To resuscitate! Those leaving Their denuded abode behind Away, who preferred To stay 'We will return back home soon! ' Is what They  say. Happily enough Mother nature Affords us a second chance Imbued with Environment stewardship If  we are willing to mend Our wrong 'Feast today famine tomorrow! ' stance. To dispel the spectre Of climate change And systematically face The global challenge True to the adage 'We have either to swim together or sink together! ' Hence in fighting the challenge Or adapting to the change Back scratching, We have to be on the same page. Indeed, irrigation must Not slip our mind For erratic rainfall A  lasting solution If we must find.// Once a famous Ethiopian Poet  Pro.Debebe Seifu Who had passed away had  penned down a picturesque poem lamenting the land degradation, deforestation and change of climate the country was suffering.The bad scenario seemed unrecoverable.Now a days Ethiopia is reversing that sad episode.I have therefore to write a poem on this #change   #trees   #erosion   #climate   #deforestation   #enviroment   #degeradation   #desertification
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*Man and woman, though different Are equal in the eyes of God. inexplicable though true but still Unacceptable for some perhaps Man is the highest of all creations Woman is the most sublime of all Ideals. God made for a man a throne, for a woman an altar. the throne exalts, The altar sanctifies. Man is the brain. woman is the heart. The brain fabricates light while The heart produces love. light fecunds, Love resuscitates. Man is the code. Woman is the gospel. The code corrects As the gospel perfects. Man is the genius while Woman is the angel. The genius is undefinable And the angel is immeasurable. Man is strong in reason but woman is invincible in her tears. Reason convinces the most stubborn Just as tears soften the hardest of mortals. Man is the ocean And the woman is the lake. The ocean has it's pearls that adorn; The lake has its poems that dazzle.* ***Man stands where the earth ends; And woman where heaven begins.***
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Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 9:46 PM UTC
Man vs. Woman
I close my eyes To look into your eyes. I take a deep breath To savour your fragrance. I dip my conscience In the figment of your imagination. I lose my senses In the sparkles of your smile. My heartbeat slows down To the sound of your presence. My world spins around To be a part of your essence. My soul resonates With a gentle touch of your palm. My spirit resuscitates With a glimpse of your thought. Tonight I swim In the sea of your memories. Tonight I surrender In the world of your dreams. Tonight I relive those moments With you in my mind. Tonight I let go of all doubts With you by my side.
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Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 7:42 AM UTC
Dreamy Night
I met a woman with a trumpet tongue who played her words on paper, white as truces. she told me through my stereo "we've both had days where the phoenix didn't rise". we' have all had days where the phoenix did not rise. but thank goodness my birthday was the first time I heard your lips part and saw your teeth spill oceans of blue blankets across my jellyfish eyes. I wish everyone understood the irony of writing love poems to a lesbian, but my hands never seemed to reach the ends of my arms like I want them to. They always get stuck dancing somewhere in the middle. playing a tune only they can sway to knowing all the steps bouncing off every syllable while others let their wrists go limp as if the puppeteers needed strings to tune their fiddle for a happy song somewhere far far away. so take my breath again keep it wherever it is that you keep the gasps our ears give you as your words pull the heartstrings we forgot we had that we forgot how to play to wave our wet-noodle fingers and conduct a life worth living so full of blatant love not afraid to make no sense my chest was an rusty locket the day before I heard you and now I am so full of echoes from it's tiny, timid click. For Andrea, you are a sketchbook muse, something I have to guess at on my worst days when there are no words and the rain smells like a swan song from the sky. you kept me writing when there was nothing left to draw or sing or smell or see anymore. when there was black smog between my eardrums pounding out the dying breath of clouds you held me through tinny earbuds and poems I etched in the moss running over back roads in my mind so I hope you find peace every time you find a microphone and that someday, I'll play you a tune which echoes through you, with a tiny, timid click and a full breath that resuscitates the open blue until we are both whole beneath it until, again, we are true.
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Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 11:38 AM UTC
For Andrea
I met a woman with a trumpet tongue who played her words on paper, white as truces. she told me through my stereo "we've both had days where the phoenix didn't rise". we' have all had days where the phoenix did not rise. but thank goodness my birthday was the first time I heard your lips part and saw your teeth spill oceans of blue blankets across my jellyfish eyes. I wish everyone understood the irony of writing love poems to a lesbian, but my hands never seemed to reach the ends of my arms like I want them to. They always get stuck dancing somewhere in the middle. playing a tune only they can sway to knowing all the steps bouncing off every syllable while others let their wrists go limp as if the puppeteers needed strings to tune their fiddle for a happy song somewhere far far away. so take my breath again keep it wherever it is that you keep the gasps our ears give you as your words pull the heartstrings we forgot we had that we forgot how to play to wave our wet-noodle fingers and conduct a life worth living so full of blatant love not afraid to make no sense my chest was an rusty locket the day before I heard you and now I am so full of echoes from it's tiny, timid click. For Andrea, you are a sketchbook muse, something I have to guess at on my worst days when there are no words and the rain smells like a swan song from the sky. you kept me writing when there was nothing left to draw or sing or smell or see anymore. when there was black smog between my eardrums pounding out the dying breath of clouds you held me through tinny earbuds and poems I etched in the moss running over back roads in my mind so I hope you find peace every time you find a microphone and that someday, I'll play you a tune which echoes through you, with a tiny, timid click and a full breath that resuscitates the open blue until we are both whole beneath it until, again, we are true.
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There's a dark corner that lay in each of our souls. Taking hostage of secrets, never to be told. So be careful *** you're running on a tight rope. You never know what could happen...don't get too close. A breath of fresh air, different from the norm. you're like the calm before the storm. & the deeper I look into your eyes, the more I want to endure… what exactly this storm has in store. Sun is seeping through yesterday’s sorrow, No longer caught up in the thought of tomorrow. Colors of the world bleed from dull to iridescent. Nature’s soundtrack takes turns reminding us of its presence. Together we walk the path, into the eye of the storm. Surrounded by chaos, once we reach the center life takes on a new form. There is beauty most commonly missed, in the simplest of things. The more open your mind, the more your day will bring. Let loose before the chaos seeps in. Fall into the clouds with me…let the fun begin. Laughter to color rainbows, help feed the tress. Watch as the grass resuscitates, reminding us the breath. Sunsets never so bright, & skies never so blue. Smiles to reflect the sunlight, lighting up the world around you. Music sending vibes, tangible to my heart. And for some reason my mind is telling me…this is only the start.
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Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 1:23 AM UTC
Laughter to Color Rainbows
Born in your adoration Lost in your embrace Like a coca cola you're  giving me happiness Smiles all flooding and I feel I'm sinking in I'm craving for you like i found me gold For your face sparkles more like diamond I feel my heart falling Could it be gravity! Could it be your magnetic field! Lightning strikes me once and i wake up in a bed of roses laying next to you Your breath resuscitates me back to life And your soft tender touch massages my body and makes it feel alright. The cool breeze suddenly travels across my body I open my eyes and realize I'm all alone and that feeling cuts me deep Why do you make me feel this way? I yell I send my "I love you "message through the wind And before it reaches you I see you kissing another man I get this feeling "I'll never be yours" but please stop having control over me. Life made it easier for us to be strangers and not lovers. I will simply remain your secret admirer.
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Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 3:48 PM UTC
Not lovers
The outlined shadows of angel-like apparitions, and I'm soaked in anxiety like the wingless houseflies, Where can I find peace in the midst of hell and nirvana? My soul is torn apart and my body a rigor mortis, I feel the blows under the baobab, Where is the Lord? Where is the God that sheds light? Where is the God that resuscitates dead souls? The devil has ****** my spirit in the dark hole, I'm now groping in the murk with my dogged effort, I have been a survivor of many months, of the battle between the devil and the many generations, the way to find peace is to rest in peace, No! And what about my mama? The divine lady who enshrines his son with a prayer, this woman tells me of how coward the devil is, she talks of the galaxies and the Hail Marys, But I'm not dead yet, she is the reason why I'm still alive, and why I should live to 72
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Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 4:47 AM UTC
My Battle
60 seconds to go My heart is pumping a marathon Each beat a new threat to explode Hitting me like a dozen syringes Call the coroner Cause of Death: Adrenaline Overdose 45 seconds I practice every coming moment In my mind Every mistake hits me at once The imagination humiliation Acts just like a garrote My every breath is strained Lungs burning, full of embers White out the death certificate New cause of death: Suffocation 30 seconds My flight or fight goes haywire Yet I can do neither The walls start moving This room threatens to be my tomb It is too late to fight This demise is of my own accord I want to fly Yet my wings are clipped Retract the obit I fell to my doom 15 more I hear my doom approaching It calls to me Every syllable shocks my system A jolt to remind me that I'm going to fail I shudder with every word I close my eyes, pray Count the seconds until doomsday Cause of death: Fear 10 seconds I take a breath 9 It stays 8 I stand up to face the onslaught 7 I walk toward doom 6 My breath fights its way out Only 5 Climbing fear turns to steady panic 4 more Another heart attack hits 3 Another breath 2 Out 1 I step forward The lights hit The fear vanishes I am no longer dead Alive The crowd before me resuscitates me Every line I dropped in my head Landed with precise expertise Each cue struck Every scene played to perfection Cancel the death notice On this stage I am revived
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Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 7:30 PM UTC
60 Second Freakout
everywhere on our planet earth we can view paradoxes nature is the provider of these anomalies as a two sided coin so divergent in perspective an example shall herein be shown a leafless tree seemingly dead stands in mortis during the winter's cold availing upon its limbs a lifelessness yet the tepid air of spring's rejuvenation revives and resuscitates what was thought to be terminal in its branches the character of nature is dual she renders a contradiction in her enigmatic jewel
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Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 7:40 AM UTC
Paradox Of Nature
Scrollin past ol’ conversations and wonderin what it is I saw in him the hate, the anger, the stupidity the flaws, the unwillin’ness to change somethin resuscitates deep within me an I struggle to push it down so the regret don’t drown me I made my choice--I love ‘im there ain’t no backin down now the look in his eyes, the curve of his lips the broad chest yet untouched beneath his shirt lookin at ‘im, I’d jest dive into it--no questions asked turnin ‘round, I feel what he’s stitched of an I flinch but I em unable to walk away from the choice I made
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Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 12:55 PM UTC
Skype and Ill-made Choices
Minnows **** the throb out of my eyelids where I jumped in the great pond and was filled with brine each fleck, a pebble for them to slurp like soup. I will remember this moment by the clothes I wore take it out on yellow ruffles, navy strata hung attractively on metal shelves but would faint if I were to wear either once again. The accessories were similar. Had a fish unbuttoned my blouse he would see buttons where another female’s ******* would coarsen. All I had meant to do was water a plant, feed the fish but their container had grown wool: I must dive in! It is better to drown than consult a quiet god. Upon arrival, I realized that this was like entering another species’ bloodstream. The waves sway your torso. No wonder these blankets have become pink. Behind is a freshwater sea, accustomed to the float but not the dreaded sting. I have even drowned a few times: I shall curse the flounder who resuscitates me at bottom.
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Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 3:49 PM UTC
suicide in my eyes
Confined to this turbulent path Ancient and hollow Afflictions in the sweet frost A contorted reflection of the river is you Snowflakes glistening, leaving prisms in the sky The certainty of winter resuscitates ones vitality The greater we flutter The higher we fly
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Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 11:56 PM UTC
Sunken Space
I carry Love. I carry Love. I carry, a love that resuscitates my ancestors while I breath in laughter. Where the ball inside my throat hurls fire - makes love to the sun scares shadows intimidates death and offends darkworkers. A love where God’s water breastfeeds me at the bottom of the ocean - baptising my blood and transforming my saliva into gold. It knows me, wants me, and always, finds me. I carry Love.
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Jun 5, 2023
Jun 5, 2023 at 6:08 PM UTC
Greed, Transformed
The heart beats on its own accord I am free to control its cadence But love is its only ruler My despotic master Try, as I will My hardened heart resists not Love’s melodious voice My despotic mistress She reaches in my chest And resuscitates the blackened cinder I thought you lifeless My despotic love
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Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 7:32 AM UTC
Despotic Heart
A wholesome tongue is a tree of life It brings hope and joy to light It shields from harm and danger It is a balm of healing; medicine to the soul A wholesome tongue resuscitates to consciousness It makes hope to come alive. A rash tongue kills the soul. It is brutal and cruel. Tearing to pieces the layers of the heart Planting the seed of discord and strife. The tongue is a subtle part of our members Yet it shapes minds and destinies It boasts of outstanding results It plants seeds that last for ages without end It tears and builds simultaneously It makes one feeble and empowers another Vigour and might lie with it. It shatters, shapes and sharpens minds and hearts alike.
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Aug 24, 2025
Aug 24, 2025 at 12:29 PM UTC
'THE WHOLESOME TONGUE'
I'm not weak I'm a warrior My face painted with black mascara during battle My body painted with red blood after I fight My head screams while My body screams while My mouth screams while My lungs run out The enemy surprises me whenever they get the chance They come in the night 3 AM is the closest your body is to death on a daily basis I'm sure my reasoning isn't the same as yours Or I hope The enemy is sabotaging me Taking over my hands as it shakes out 2 more pills 5 more pills 8 more pills Here it goes down better with a little cough syrup How sweet of the voices My left arm has been badly wounded The drips down my fingertips I'll fight on I'll make it out alive Sometimes they find me in the bathroom And right before I'm about to drown The enemy resuscitates me What a ******* Just let it happen The crash hits around now I fall asleep On my floor My t shirt with drips of blood I wake in the morning, victorious. Time for school.
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Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 11:41 PM UTC
Untitled 2
i left the spigot dripping last night and now the whole home is submerged — archipelagic scraps of tatterdemalion things line the floor like dead bodies and poesy atrocities. but i have not in mind, this disfiguring lament. 1 Take for example, a fine line darting towards your ******* 2 And bend it towards the direction of genealogy or analogue fire 3 Henceforth commend contention and differentiate beyond hapless extensions of body to body mirror to mirror 4 Where all axioms define the universe and there is an epistemic afterthought looming past the arithmetic of things such is that of a steady punctuation mid-birth 5 Take the corporeal and eat Suns, thrash the Moon like how a bed is meant to be whacked by the spanked edge 6 Cold resuscitates flame and flares congeal all frigidity — or at least arbitrarily, remember it by whim caprice and then fade out 7 As misery clots in the same vein pulsing with different blood which we shall ensconce with laughter — a drunken hilarity 8 And then oppose the dictum that forced us to the point of recalcitrance, rousing hungered heat with memory of waking ice 9 Recount what I said about such opposites complementing each other in precise farce 10 In this exact exhibition faint upon recollections — going far inverse to poles only tells another distance covered by wide strides and a place nearly forgotten rekindled by newer ones.
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Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 5:47 AM UTC
Numerals
Twilight paints persimmon onto cold winter trees just before the dusky night beckons them into a dreamless sleep a subdued canvas enlivened with vivid hues resuscitates dead branches and they sway to its melodious tune until every faint ray scatters as darkness shrouds the sky civil twilight attempts to turn back time and failed to convince it not to fly the drifting sun cast its final shadows albeit tempted he won’t be persuaded so the moon silently gathers her stars to shimmer where twilight has faded undulating in the night’s breeze wrapped in the crispness of its linen the cold winter trees sleep waiting for dawn to paint them crimson
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Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 5:01 AM UTC
While waiting for Dawn
Aspiring, Dreading, Forgetting. As soon as it leaves it returns, Unburned: The wishes, The yearning, With the pain of wanting. Somehow I want to make someone proud, But I've never met them, I'm sure I never will, They have no clue how hard I'm trying, Just to make myself heard, While desperately making sure I Seep into the background. Deep down I know I can do many things, Or maybe lately that reaches the surface, Until it drowns again, Then somehow survives, Resuscitates itself from nothing. It's called my motivation, My effort to succeed. But out of all these things, I will not allow one to be trying to please someone, Who has: Never been pleased with me; Doesn't own the right to be proud; Or have the chance to find me; Convince themselves they can make amends. I believe in second chances, Just not for people who never even started. Next I see someone else, Whose only in my dreams. He makes me worthwhile, For a little bit, And I'm able to smile. He keeps me safe, Gives me enough love to take, And let's me breathe again. Each time it never fails To remind me, How I need this, As much as the air I breathe. It gives me things, Things which I need. Apparently escapism, Isn't allowed to be reality, But I'll keep coming back to it, Just to get through the days, Even if it shouldn't be keeping me awake.
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Jul 4, 2017
Jul 4, 2017 at 7:34 PM UTC
Occurring Patterns, Responces
Secrecy. Felicity quietly enters the water to drown . Secretly he  had been watching. Dives in to save her. Pulling her back to shore, her wide mouth screaming. Sincerely he resuscitates her wide mouth on wide mouth Secretly she enjoys it.
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Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 1:41 AM UTC
.Life Saving.
there's a  fire in this madhouse of Venus where unattainable romance gives birth to cunty darkness and pleading clawish fingers to obsessions of strange mental constructs something about blood and tears birthing black ******* and vampires with vermillion mouths shaped in circles that gorge themselves on violent thrusting ***** and ***** resembling mushed faced pugs just asking for it a woman's eyes burn like cigarettes and tongues snake into esophageal swoon revivals of glorious deliverance flashing souls flit like street lights and flames of wraith hair she begs to be strangled with a black chord and kissed till her brain blurs fizz she dances wigwam wiggle and clutches like a sliding oyster licking my ******* **** ***** and ruby *****  gagging repeatedly onto the hilting root   falling into submission for her dark ******* god Faustian thing a little doll with mythic eyes  a ******* wraparound mouthy wigged *****  with a baloney-pony disco stick orifice will you **** me with your **** sir a dark hunger gnaws deep within so bleed me merciless like a gushing artery make me red dead in love in bed butter **** and properly spread pound me like a hell ***** ******  in a burning five alarm  emergency suicide **** - i corkscrew her  into a writhing murderous wreckage  as she dissolves under me  like a sugar cube in hot tea and blood christened by a magic wand that forces her round belly  up and down like a toilet plunger her ***** drools like runny yolks a deep homework  the shamanic decent  an illusive weighing of the heart  the sweet meat priestess  who resuscitates abandoned legends making my ***** click like castanets  a Mr. Winkey party spewing Icelandic yogurt her teeth rattle as her brains and one eyeball  hang off my ****  like pig trough slobber her face smiles  and vomits peaches there's moon glitter in your beautiful hair my darling God save the kink
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Apr 6, 2021
Apr 6, 2021 at 2:35 PM UTC
Mad House Venus
there's a  fire in this madhouse of Venus where unattainable romance gives birth to cunty darkness and pleading clawish fingers to obsessions of strange mental constructs something about blood and tears birthing black ******* and vampires with vermillion mouths shaped in circles that gorge themselves on violent thrusting ***** and ***** resembling mushed faced pugs just asking for it a woman's eyes burn like cigarettes and tongues snake into esophageal swoon revivals of glorious deliverance flashing souls flit like street lights and flames of wraith hair she begs to be strangled with a black chord and kissed till her brain blurs fizz she dances wigwam wiggle and clutches like a sliding oyster licking my ******* **** ***** and ruby *****  gagging repeatedly onto the hilting root   falling into submission for her dark ******* god Faustian thing a little doll with mythic eyes  a ******* wraparound mouthy wigged *****  with a baloney-pony disco stick orifice will you **** me with your **** sir a dark hunger gnaws deep within so bleed me merciless like a gushing artery make me red dead in love in bed butter **** and properly spread pound me like a hell ***** ******  in a burning five alarm  emergency suicide **** - i corkscrew her  into a writhing murderous wreckage  as she dissolves under me  like a sugar cube in hot tea and blood christened by a magic wand that forces her round belly  up and down like a toilet plunger her ***** drools like runny yolks a deep homework  the shamanic decent  an illusive weighing of the heart  the sweet meat priestess  who resuscitates abandoned legends making my ***** click like castanets  a Mr. Winkey party spewing Icelandic yogurt her teeth rattle as her brains and one eyeball  hang off my ****  like pig trough slobber her face smiles  and vomits peaches there's moon glitter in your beautiful hair my darling God save the kink
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Reach for me rightly in the morning with your hands that got us into this mess in the first place The weight of the grip that perpetrated your adolescence offers air back to my lungs resuscitates me
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May 18, 2024
May 18, 2024 at 10:07 AM UTC
five then life
In my chest I bring a pain Which in time accept As a stubborn implant Right in my right chest This pain knows not where it beats Nor does it come from near here But it pulses deeply through And it almost sounds like you In the timbre of its screams That vibrate the thorax And puncture when you weep I live memories of sites Yet it is here she belongs now Whatever was once made of her And even if she’s not aware And even if you’re not yet aware I am: It lives in my right chest What a patron stepmother Crude lioness heart Synchronic pounding in negative resounds The **** acute pain Of this machine I carry Implanted, conflated, pointy I imported it from our nights And stares traded in summertime Iris tinged with shavings from the sun Cut up from the negatives of the blinds And in negative pounding Conducting in this right chest of mine This implant of torment Torment and own delicate shine So delicate it may take the torment and make At times: simple discomfort Others: a happy life in a moment And who may be source of this pain Of this heart in negative Creating only torment And what gorgeous torment Which at worse discomforts At best resuscitates my life in a moment And turns me back to us This pain and anguish In adolescent torpor Unrealising you made of Me the glad recipient Where to grow and lodge Like the lost bullet in time That naked ****** universe Formed into material emotion Animal biological material That from this story I have with you Gives anxiety during bed time Your anxiety But that pounds in negative As the now accepted implant When it comes dark longing Of us not seeing what is to come It’s just that here in pain and everything Beats content from imperfection So beautiful and sinistral In mine deep dextral chest Your youthful beating heart
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Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 10:34 PM UTC
Pain in the right chest
In my chest I bring a pain Which in time accept As a stubborn implant Right in my right chest This pain knows not where it beats Nor does it come from near here But it pulses deeply through And it almost sounds like you In the timbre of its screams That vibrate the thorax And puncture when you weep I live memories of sites Yet it is here she belongs now Whatever was once made of her And even if she’s not aware And even if you’re not yet aware I am: It lives in my right chest What a patron stepmother Crude lioness heart Synchronic pounding in negative resounds The **** acute pain Of this machine I carry Implanted, conflated, pointy I imported it from our nights And stares traded in summertime Iris tinged with shavings from the sun Cut up from the negatives of the blinds And in negative pounding Conducting in this right chest of mine This implant of torment Torment and own delicate shine So delicate it may take the torment and make At times: simple discomfort Others: a happy life in a moment And who may be source of this pain Of this heart in negative Creating only torment And what gorgeous torment Which at worse discomforts At best resuscitates my life in a moment And turns me back to us This pain and anguish In adolescent torpor Unrealising you made of Me the glad recipient Where to grow and lodge Like the lost bullet in time That naked ****** universe Formed into material emotion Animal biological material That from this story I have with you Gives anxiety during bed time Your anxiety But that pounds in negative As the now accepted implant When it comes dark longing Of us not seeing what is to come It’s just that here in pain and everything Beats content from imperfection So beautiful and sinistral In mine deep dextral chest Your youthful beating heart
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