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"retracts" poems
We're forced, each man, to walk a trialed path— resisted trek, uphill through blinding daze that shrouds with crucible's perplexing haze till fog-white skies yield quick to black clouds' wrath. Affliction brims a thorny pack to bear whilst dewy darkness drenches in the night, but where is calming lamp to lend us sight? And who will come to give us saving care? Here through veil is heard a whisper certain, then o'er the mountain creeps the dawning day and with clear eyes we see the brume give way as God retracts His theatre's curtain, unsheathing velvet waves whose morning sheen beyond grey mist splays vast and wondrous green.
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Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 12:51 AM UTC
Drakensberg Sonnet
# Each body part sizzled in pure pleasure in the blissed wake of your oral efforts brought forth the waves of rapturous delight...                                        Spurs poetic inspiration                                         in equal liberation                                         of desires to please.                                         Bodies transpose                                         in fluid motion                                         as brazen eyes meet.         Savor the voluptuous image before you.         Indulge your eyes in my carnal halo         before they roll to the back of your head. On all fours knees between your thighs tips of swollen breast caress your chest tasting fresh honey upon lips in a kiss.                                         Ripples of ardor                                          hover                                          by wet trails                                          of sensual kisses                                          suckling towards                                          the apex. Breathe in the slow motion pace that pulsates eagerness to the fore tumescing bulge leaking with anticipation of viscous lava.         Tickles of silken hair         against flesh edges closer. Emerging subtle grumbles in deep resonance betray your impatience . Hands tightly twine in tangled hair to maneuver the treasure hunt.                                          Licked lips pause                                          at the sight of fire                                          burning in                                          glazed gazes                                          before engulfing                                          the throbbing member. Plump ruby lips greet velvety texture in a slow deep dive. Tongue curls around the flavor in a dulcet embrace.                                          Moans release                                          as grip tightens                                          in my hair                                          settles the                                          rhythmic pace                                          to taste in an                                          oscillating dance.         The masculine aroma of heady musk         lingering there, arouses my appetite. With my enthusiasm attuned to your preferred rhythm suckling, slurping surface and dive in measured unison.                                           Break of breath                                           allows tongue                                           freedom to roam below,                                           licking, soft kissing                                           the tender hammock                                           of testicles.         Tongue and lips escalate higher         to mount another assaulting dive         deeper in the depths         of the cusp in cavity. Wetted fingers probe even lower circling superficially as gasp escapes your heavy breath; flaming eyes lock.                                           Finger dips in                                           with expert finesse                                           gorging hardened growth                                           within a wrapped hand. Thighs tighten with rocking grip. Head thrusts onward, drilling forward in each dive.         Salvia slips         fingers grip         lips dip Engorged swell, flesh tightens in an intensity of volcanic eruption ...         HALTS         assault Pace retracts. Loosened lips kiss tip. *“Soon sweetheart, your time will *** inside me as we surrender to synergy."* #
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Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 7:51 AM UTC
love...................................lust (act II)
# Each body part sizzled in pure pleasure in the blissed wake of your oral efforts brought forth the waves of rapturous delight...                                        Spurs poetic inspiration                                         in equal liberation                                         of desires to please.                                         Bodies transpose                                         in fluid motion                                         as brazen eyes meet.         Savor the voluptuous image before you.         Indulge your eyes in my carnal halo         before they roll to the back of your head. On all fours knees between your thighs tips of swollen breast caress your chest tasting fresh honey upon lips in a kiss.                                         Ripples of ardor                                          hover                                          by wet trails                                          of sensual kisses                                          suckling towards                                          the apex. Breathe in the slow motion pace that pulsates eagerness to the fore tumescing bulge leaking with anticipation of viscous lava.         Tickles of silken hair         against flesh edges closer. Emerging subtle grumbles in deep resonance betray your impatience . Hands tightly twine in tangled hair to maneuver the treasure hunt.                                          Licked lips pause                                          at the sight of fire                                          burning in                                          glazed gazes                                          before engulfing                                          the throbbing member. Plump ruby lips greet velvety texture in a slow deep dive. Tongue curls around the flavor in a dulcet embrace.                                          Moans release                                          as grip tightens                                          in my hair                                          settles the                                          rhythmic pace                                          to taste in an                                          oscillating dance.         The masculine aroma of heady musk         lingering there, arouses my appetite. With my enthusiasm attuned to your preferred rhythm suckling, slurping surface and dive in measured unison.                                           Break of breath                                           allows tongue                                           freedom to roam below,                                           licking, soft kissing                                           the tender hammock                                           of testicles.         Tongue and lips escalate higher         to mount another assaulting dive         deeper in the depths         of the cusp in cavity. Wetted fingers probe even lower circling superficially as gasp escapes your heavy breath; flaming eyes lock.                                           Finger dips in                                           with expert finesse                                           gorging hardened growth                                           within a wrapped hand. Thighs tighten with rocking grip. Head thrusts onward, drilling forward in each dive.         Salvia slips         fingers grip         lips dip Engorged swell, flesh tightens in an intensity of volcanic eruption ...         HALTS         assault Pace retracts. Loosened lips kiss tip. *“Soon sweetheart, your time will *** inside me as we surrender to synergy."* #
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107
. *… and the look of fear co-existing with pain      on a contorted face that knows it is in mortal difficulty, as ragged fingers      clutch,           clutch, at a fire they cannot reach, ripping agonies react,      to an enforced cardiac episode, as blackness closes in gravity heaves its hardest, but the fall is fake, a red herring in the event,      and the weight of the world presses down, searching, retracts waiting, presses down, searching, retracts waiting, as breath is given freedom in exhalation to the light,      that slowly rolls back the pitch hue of the void, returning back images, feeling, a new belief,           and the fire inside quietens,                     and the fire inside quietens, to the intense glow      of a burnt aching heart.* © Pagan Paul (2018)
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Jun 14, 2019
Jun 14, 2019 at 5:45 AM UTC
Fire Inside
Tonight I cry, Because I' am a fool. A fool for love, the kind I gave to you... Every day you made me feel like the one who meant the world to you...but now I see why maybe...just maybe...I should run. But the magnetic pull of my heart holds on so strong, I don't want to let go, the elastic band stretches apart near its peak and then retracts into a heartbeat that breaks like shattered glass. I trusted in you, that you kept your word, but today you left me all day without a say and come back a drunken fool. I fought you, 3 hours because my feelings were hurt and you never gave a **** and wouldn't understand, because i' am the mean one. Where are the loyal people, where are the ones who just want a pact, to be loved and give love in return without needing to be asked. I lay here, 3 AM alone in my bed, wanting to sleep but my foolish heart can only think of you. You left again, because you couldn't take my pain, the truth I expelled from the midst of your spell but you still continued to hurt me and hurt me and hurt me because like I said, you wouldn't understand. Why am I a fool? Someone, help me understand my own feelings, because I don't think I can... You tell me you love me, but then do it again. You never make sense but expect me to think twice before speaking. You are confused.
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Jul 7, 2021
Jul 7, 2021 at 3:22 AM UTC
Fool
So many things are swimming through my mind right now. So many thoughts, memories, emotions, and demons. They float by like sheets of ice, chilling me down to the deepest part of my broken soul, making me numb. Their compositions are so complex I avoid them for my sanity. My mind is so distortedly dysfunctional. It's filled with an infinite number of all these things, but if I focus on one of them for too long, my mind pushes them out of reach. My mind is a vast labyrinth guarded by sarcasm, bitterness, and a mask of composure, filled with wastelands, trenches, and locked doors. Only those that are patient will ever find the vault at its very center, and even then, my mind is nearly impossible to crack. This vault is like no other. It's one that you never want to open. Despite my mind's shortcomings, it's quite clever in this one sense. The vault contains demons so repulsive, so revolting, so disturbingly terrifying, why, my mind can't even remember what it put there. But at night, as my mind pulls at dreams, the vault is most unfortunately opened when my guard is down. I sometimes wake up breathless, with only faint recollections of the nightmarish memories and demons that my mind conjured and unleashed in slumber. As suddenly as I awaken, the dark matter of my mind retracts back into the vault before I have much else to do. I then peel myself off of my bed, scrape the attempt of a smile out of the gutters of my soul, and go about my day. There are other times when the solid walls of my mind melt away for reasons I cannot explain. Everything then swims through my mind, all the darkness of it tugging at the back of my consciousness, wearing away at my thought process, and filling up my mind with hazy grief. Nonetheless, the vault of my mind is better off locked. However, by design, a vault must have a key to open it. The key to mine takes many different forms, and the interesting part is, I don't know what the key looks like. From day to day, my mind is an imposing, impenetrable fortress, to the point where even my own mind can't determine its complexity. I live each day, watching, searching, dreading the day when I finally find what frees my mind from its nightmares, secrets, and its vault.
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Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 9:56 AM UTC
My Mind
So many things are swimming through my mind right now. So many thoughts, memories, emotions, and demons. They float by like sheets of ice, chilling me down to the deepest part of my broken soul, making me numb. Their compositions are so complex I avoid them for my sanity. My mind is so distortedly dysfunctional. It's filled with an infinite number of all these things, but if I focus on one of them for too long, my mind pushes them out of reach. My mind is a vast labyrinth guarded by sarcasm, bitterness, and a mask of composure, filled with wastelands, trenches, and locked doors. Only those that are patient will ever find the vault at its very center, and even then, my mind is nearly impossible to crack. This vault is like no other. It's one that you never want to open. Despite my mind's shortcomings, it's quite clever in this one sense. The vault contains demons so repulsive, so revolting, so disturbingly terrifying, why, my mind can't even remember what it put there. But at night, as my mind pulls at dreams, the vault is most unfortunately opened when my guard is down. I sometimes wake up breathless, with only faint recollections of the nightmarish memories and demons that my mind conjured and unleashed in slumber. As suddenly as I awaken, the dark matter of my mind retracts back into the vault before I have much else to do. I then peel myself off of my bed, scrape the attempt of a smile out of the gutters of my soul, and go about my day. There are other times when the solid walls of my mind melt away for reasons I cannot explain. Everything then swims through my mind, all the darkness of it tugging at the back of my consciousness, wearing away at my thought process, and filling up my mind with hazy grief. Nonetheless, the vault of my mind is better off locked. However, by design, a vault must have a key to open it. The key to mine takes many different forms, and the interesting part is, I don't know what the key looks like. From day to day, my mind is an imposing, impenetrable fortress, to the point where even my own mind can't determine its complexity. I live each day, watching, searching, dreading the day when I finally find what frees my mind from its nightmares, secrets, and its vault.
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41
The concave curvature Of her crescent cheeks carried Me back to the beginning Of time, to the ground where Love laid the very first pieces Of her infinite foundation To where the rock met the sea At the distant shorelines of desire Where the mighty waves of passion Crash on the bedrock of solidarity I, the small being, coupled with you, Tapped into the endless well, throwing Ourselves into eternity. The sky stretches And is covered with the burning stars Whose distant screams are the sonata Of the oscillating sound waves of The song we both share. You and I- I was your ocean and you were my Moon. Though your brilliant reflection Undulated on the face of my violent waves We could not touch, separated by light Years through which time stretches and Retracts and ultimately sums to zero And yet here you are, my gentle breath Is the soft wind in your valley, gently Bending the stems of the magnificent flowers That abound in your lush fields. Your vines Wrap around my trunk as my heart pants For you like the fawn after the cool brook And is filled with the cool refreshment That fills my veins. Your rivers flow into my Seas and my seas empty into your streams And we find ourselves here, in this cycle, Realizing that the separation would Be the sudden death of the both of us.
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Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 6:58 PM UTC
Fate and the Plot Twist
The moon is up but the sun is coming The stars are set The shadows are running The heat embraces The chill retracts The wondrous light let's the sky relax Emotions are high as we all remember This is just the beginning It's only September
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Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 4:22 AM UTC
September Nights
After the sun retracts its harsh tentacles, I leave the field, dripping with exhaustion. Gossamer fabric falls limply about my ankles, and with it, the weight of sunrise. New dreams saturate my ambition; or perhaps they are old ones, lapping against tonight’s unfamiliar shores. My cheek kisses the country cotton sheets, and I am reminded that as the past fans out behind me and the future shrinks ahead, now is my forever.
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Jul 9, 2012
Jul 9, 2012 at 11:41 PM UTC
Gold Country
A butterfly winks at a rose Attracted by her perfumes Tweaks fine filament nose Lady likes me, he assumes Her flaming pink petal lips Enticing him to land a kiss Hovers wings flickers flips Lips, closer, closer to meet He retracts, no, maybe not Sorry love he couldn't do it Fooled em all the time a lot Go fly you flirtatious tweet
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Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 8:52 PM UTC
A Butterfly
And if such a time comes. I ask for courage anew, happier eyes. To delve into sweet slumber without sigh. Time neither passes or retracts. And in addition I find the least bit bearable. Unable to drown in total sleep. The sights seen precious. I forget where I place my head. And I hold no grievance against thee. Heavily affectioned to many a sight. My eyes swallowed whole, At happiness's interpretation. Whilst I not forget, Sandman, I dream with open eyes
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Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 3:04 PM UTC
Such A Time (Sonnet)
Soft red petals once freed put back into a cage, the rose is Taken away from that which makes it thrive Without soil, rain, and sunshine Sweet songs won’t be sung The rose won’t bloom Backwards through Time it retracts Beauty gone In ruin A lost Bud. But With This It has A chance To restart To grow and Rise from the Ashes that once Swallowed it whole The bud can still bloom There is always room for healing With sunshine and rain it’ll thrive In order to open again it must first close “As though a rose would shut, and be a bud again.”
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May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 6:55 PM UTC
“As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again”
Sitting; thinking over my self-made dread. Could I aid those before I save my head? Rays of serenity draw eyes from concern. Thought retracts, While my present youth attracts To something that could heal my burn, And the cold in my heart subtracts. This figure so lax sunk deep in grass, With a book in hand letting time pass. Legs crossed like the butterflies near; A good nest For the tired book to rest. And in the reader’s face: cheer At what full words suggest. This still child now visibly grown, Frees me of want; nothing to own, Except for my subconscious control. Contradicting; My two sides conflicting, As I long to possess the pure whole, And I notice my view is restricting. This riddle once again self-made, As I look at her, begins to fade. The sun shines down from the sky. What a sight! Turn to me blue eyes bright; A moment no person can ever buy, And now in mind everything alright. This answer leads to no longer my, For in that we will all surely die, But let it be; we have the world to share. There sitting, Pairs of liberal eyes committing. Never again possession; now fully aware, While others urge for everything unremitting. They're sitting.
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Mar 21, 2010
Mar 21, 2010 at 3:48 PM UTC
Sitting
the air is cooler             less kenetic and soupy                          less aggressive with the mammal scent safer (it seems) clean         the skin retracts a little dryly                      less welcoming to dirt contact                            my feet shift cooly in my sandals the world awaits              new temperament
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Sep 15, 2021
Sep 15, 2021 at 10:25 PM UTC
11
A sky of angry screeching, demanding, like a raptor on the wing doesn't have the impact that simple warbling brings With fear of cruel words spoken love retracts like claws on birds of prey and all I loved about you has now flown far away Predatory words can rip into beings lovelorn at their peak not accomplishing anything but the sharpening of the beak
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Jun 30, 2012
Jun 30, 2012 at 5:47 PM UTC
Angry Words
So you've hit rock bottom. Have you realized it yet? Have you caught your breath yet? Are you learning to breath again? I've watched from a distance. I watched it all unfold around you. I've seen the ground crumble and shatter beneath your feet. I don't call this karma. I don't rejoice in your suffering. Watching life knock you to the ground is not something that warms my heart. I want to reach for you. I feel that same pull on my heart and it wants nothing more than to pull you up on your two feet and to breath life back into you. To fill you again with a love that could bring you back to life....   But my hand retracts...as the remembrance of your hurtful words come flooding back into my mind. The dark cloud of memories soars in and circles me. The sleepless nights, the tear soaked pillows, the plague of emptiness and heartache. It knocks me off my feet and I'm torn. What am I to do? You destroyed me, and turned me to ash. So my love will remain here with me. Locked away deep for no one to see. Avoiding your blazing fire that has burned me so many times for getting to close. I pray Gods Love lifts you up. And I'm only sorry it couldn't be mine...
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Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 7:32 PM UTC
Rock Bottom
Many are stupefied by utopic love. Each aside they unwisely shove The one made for them with divine care; But one lover is astute, the other ensnared. But, to devise a plan to speak Of the fervor in their hearts (not meek) Would mean to usher all aside One’s vulnerability, fear, and pride. First time around, most subtly, Interest expressed, transcendently, And shatters a transparent door, While these two strangers are strangers no more. 
 Then: The slightest step towards her heart is taken; She quickly retracts, he quickly mistaken. She thinks: “I’ve grown tired of being jaded. My loud wits and dreams have faded, Far along the river waves, Saddened by these trees and shades! But there he stands, perfect and well. I...here...scared like hell, For I have never felt like this, Not even with a woman’s kiss.” He thinks: “What, exactly, have I done That she retreats, a fate undone? There! In her eyes, the heart’s edifice, Conjures true love’s precipice, But screams of the real demise Of past lovers: spears and lies.” In truth, her wits may sometimes offend, But with him she would most commend His charming smile, his virility, While he embraces her wholeheartedly. Thus, their imaginations painted beyond A sea of perfection, like a song, And marked a journey of these two Just for a moment, as most strangers do. But the stars have placed attraction laws For these two lovers and their flaws To come together, but not greet, For the devil binds them in defeat. So, a moment’s come, a moment’s passed For these two soulmates, amour-cast; The love she sought, the love he spoke Has come and gone. That’s all they wrote.
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May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 7:19 PM UTC
That's All She Wrote
Many are stupefied by utopic love. Each aside they unwisely shove The one made for them with divine care; But one lover is astute, the other ensnared. But, to devise a plan to speak Of the fervor in their hearts (not meek) Would mean to usher all aside One’s vulnerability, fear, and pride. First time around, most subtly, Interest expressed, transcendently, And shatters a transparent door, While these two strangers are strangers no more. 
 Then: The slightest step towards her heart is taken; She quickly retracts, he quickly mistaken. She thinks: “I’ve grown tired of being jaded. My loud wits and dreams have faded, Far along the river waves, Saddened by these trees and shades! But there he stands, perfect and well. I...here...scared like hell, For I have never felt like this, Not even with a woman’s kiss.” He thinks: “What, exactly, have I done That she retreats, a fate undone? There! In her eyes, the heart’s edifice, Conjures true love’s precipice, But screams of the real demise Of past lovers: spears and lies.” In truth, her wits may sometimes offend, But with him she would most commend His charming smile, his virility, While he embraces her wholeheartedly. Thus, their imaginations painted beyond A sea of perfection, like a song, And marked a journey of these two Just for a moment, as most strangers do. But the stars have placed attraction laws For these two lovers and their flaws To come together, but not greet, For the devil binds them in defeat. So, a moment’s come, a moment’s passed For these two soulmates, amour-cast; The love she sought, the love he spoke Has come and gone. That’s all they wrote.
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47
They told me. Told me this is right. I never thought to disagree. Until we began falling from this lofty height. I don't know how we got here. Or where to go. I can't tell you why my pulse is racing. While my breathings slow. I think this has been some sort of accident. The kind you drive by really slow. Never has the air between us been less passionate. You smile, but all I see is the anger just below. I've watched this love wax. I don't think I can stand it to wane. I try to hold harder the more this retracts. Stuck in this whirring profoundness I can't explain. I want to stop, but again and again it's all deja vu. We are surrounded by moutains and molehills. Perpetually waiting for the other to come through. Held to some truth that constantly self fufills. Yet, I just can't bring myself to leave us behind. I cling, I fight, I pray, I hope, I wail. because love is patient, love is kind... They told me love will never fail.
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Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 3:37 AM UTC
Told Me
I am dancing with the darkness, I am flirting near the fringe, I am swimming through the outskirts, I am wading on the rim. The reflection of my perspective is no longer recognized By the less traveled sparkled stares, which happily float on by. The peripherals of my mind are growing Further and further in, Wandering with broken gaze My scope is turning dim. With the darkness the ground is shifting As I’m drifting through my mind. The seasons change the more I’m seasoned By reflections that graze my eyes; Of broken scales, false fairy tales and smiles used for disguise. While it's true it's - as the say - darkest before it’s light, It still holds true The opposite ensues As bright-eyed sunsets sink into the night. An occasional step, while slippery yet Can bring to consideration: That my darkened truth may yet be false... ... But I keep my hesitation Because truer till is the fiction still that lingers in the sun; Of droned routines, petty cravings, and gains ill-willfully-won. These basking sun-tanners wouldn’t dare to enter Where this jagged path tears my feet, Making broken bones on shadowed stones And a hopeful soul deceived. The hope encased Is slowly replaced With new levels, planes; Profundity of pain And ever eroding faith. My setting sun Is nearly gone While darkness takes its place. The nights seem so much longer drifting Into deeper dimensions, I muster. Exploring further, I forge freshly charted paths Discovering new tangential ways to suffer. And all these feelings must be true, if truth lay in the mind These dim lit paths are real to me, however seemingly blind So still I wander through the night, Rootless, lost, in pain, Desperate for the smallest glimmer That I might happen to obtain; While shifting free Through the scattered trees Landing on the ground, I sometimes stay To catch these rays Basking warmly on the stone.... .... But all this remains ephemeral, As the sunray travels on. So alone, again I tumble, Lost and aimless, Through the depths, With broken heart, Broken bones, And a seemingly broken lens. But perhaps... it’s YOU who play, Lost and aimless, in the luminous light of day. For when all’s said and done, After the shifting sun, Retracts its comforting rays... ...Beyond that light... ...It is the night... That ever will remain...
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Oct 23, 2011
Oct 23, 2011 at 2:27 AM UTC
Dancing With The Darkness
I am dancing with the darkness, I am flirting near the fringe, I am swimming through the outskirts, I am wading on the rim. The reflection of my perspective is no longer recognized By the less traveled sparkled stares, which happily float on by. The peripherals of my mind are growing Further and further in, Wandering with broken gaze My scope is turning dim. With the darkness the ground is shifting As I’m drifting through my mind. The seasons change the more I’m seasoned By reflections that graze my eyes; Of broken scales, false fairy tales and smiles used for disguise. While it's true it's - as the say - darkest before it’s light, It still holds true The opposite ensues As bright-eyed sunsets sink into the night. An occasional step, while slippery yet Can bring to consideration: That my darkened truth may yet be false... ... But I keep my hesitation Because truer till is the fiction still that lingers in the sun; Of droned routines, petty cravings, and gains ill-willfully-won. These basking sun-tanners wouldn’t dare to enter Where this jagged path tears my feet, Making broken bones on shadowed stones And a hopeful soul deceived. The hope encased Is slowly replaced With new levels, planes; Profundity of pain And ever eroding faith. My setting sun Is nearly gone While darkness takes its place. The nights seem so much longer drifting Into deeper dimensions, I muster. Exploring further, I forge freshly charted paths Discovering new tangential ways to suffer. And all these feelings must be true, if truth lay in the mind These dim lit paths are real to me, however seemingly blind So still I wander through the night, Rootless, lost, in pain, Desperate for the smallest glimmer That I might happen to obtain; While shifting free Through the scattered trees Landing on the ground, I sometimes stay To catch these rays Basking warmly on the stone.... .... But all this remains ephemeral, As the sunray travels on. So alone, again I tumble, Lost and aimless, Through the depths, With broken heart, Broken bones, And a seemingly broken lens. But perhaps... it’s YOU who play, Lost and aimless, in the luminous light of day. For when all’s said and done, After the shifting sun, Retracts its comforting rays... ...Beyond that light... ...It is the night... That ever will remain...
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70
There is he, who cannot rest, In clover, nor in wisps of clouds; Churning, malaise of soul’s request, Until such soul has spoken loud. In voices, tongues of foreign feature, Ones he cannot hope to reign; Accepts, within, this lonesome creature, Such dormancy had lain. Whet upon his palate clean, The tastes of time surrendered, In nibbles, wincing, soured preen, His anguish berths distended. Whether love or longing pine, The sweet of either remarks, Plain of wrapper, tan-hemp twine, Arrive in light or dark. Sequestered to his inner mind, As permeating thoughts infuse Lessons, mem’ries—some unkind, Too precious then, to lose. Coffers rich in frames of past, Display, enigmatic posing; A filling reference of faces dashed, Betrayal: scant exposing. Inhaling then, the moment caustic, With innocence feigned, unguarded, Ingesting free the poison’s lick, For peace he will then barter. Release in silent ecstasy, As his soul retracts to heal, Birthing words refractory, In life, such visions feel. Remorse breeds times exhumed, As contentment lapses hinder; Chants thwart the breaths consumed, Residual morsels linger. The cryptic frets the untouched stone, Before the sense dissolves, In corners, there, he weeps alone, And clings to his resolve. There is he, who cannot rest, In clover, nor in wisps of clouds; Churning, malaise of soul’s request, Until such soul has spoken loud. In voices, tongues of foreign feature, Ones he cannot hope to reign; Accepts, within, this lonesome creature, Such dormancy had lain.
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Apr 30, 2010
Apr 30, 2010 at 9:47 AM UTC
There Is He, Who Cannot Rest
There is he, who cannot rest, In clover, nor in wisps of clouds; Churning, malaise of soul’s request, Until such soul has spoken loud. In voices, tongues of foreign feature, Ones he cannot hope to reign; Accepts, within, this lonesome creature, Such dormancy had lain. Whet upon his palate clean, The tastes of time surrendered, In nibbles, wincing, soured preen, His anguish berths distended. Whether love or longing pine, The sweet of either remarks, Plain of wrapper, tan-hemp twine, Arrive in light or dark. Sequestered to his inner mind, As permeating thoughts infuse Lessons, mem’ries—some unkind, Too precious then, to lose. Coffers rich in frames of past, Display, enigmatic posing; A filling reference of faces dashed, Betrayal: scant exposing. Inhaling then, the moment caustic, With innocence feigned, unguarded, Ingesting free the poison’s lick, For peace he will then barter. Release in silent ecstasy, As his soul retracts to heal, Birthing words refractory, In life, such visions feel. Remorse breeds times exhumed, As contentment lapses hinder; Chants thwart the breaths consumed, Residual morsels linger. The cryptic frets the untouched stone, Before the sense dissolves, In corners, there, he weeps alone, And clings to his resolve. There is he, who cannot rest, In clover, nor in wisps of clouds; Churning, malaise of soul’s request, Until such soul has spoken loud. In voices, tongues of foreign feature, Ones he cannot hope to reign; Accepts, within, this lonesome creature, Such dormancy had lain.
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48
Veins protrude through blinded, cosmic dust. Obliterate signs, Distant heart beat follows laced intentions Star crossed dawn Torn in daylight Shadows embrace, welded galaxies. Explosion retracts out of stolen glances, Await..unavoidable exchanges “Lie still,” whispers the chamber.
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Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 2:12 PM UTC
Cosmic Love
he is like an unfinished painting a song with secretive lyrics he spills a line then retracts a paragraph with his eyes; that wide ocean of unending metaphors he watches and keeps to himself a bag full of captured moments and i am a bird, perched on an ordinary tree i craned my neck, yet he couldn't see my subtle melody, another mystery, trapped underneath the leaves i beg for mercy from a worm that was supposed to be my meal there are no trees across the ocean. even in the negatives i will never be cleared or towed away in his collection of polaroids yet in between my words, there he is coloring the spaces my ink left filling and filling and spilling on my bed sheet, in my closet among the neurons in my head there will never be trees across the ocean.
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Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 12:47 PM UTC
Distant Ocean
(I am woken up by her honey-sweet voice in the morning.) She:  Good morning honey! Me:  Good morning baby! (I yawn my mouth wide as I say that.) (She smiles & replies tauntingly as she pulls my ear lovingly.) She:  Seems you had a laborious night! Me:  Yeah, a really laborious one indeed. (Even I smile as I remember the last night; full of spice.) (Now she bends towards the side-table and fetches coffee.) She:  Hmmm... I've prepared coffee for you darling, you were asleep. Me:  Oh dear, should I say thanks or kiss you again!? (I move my body forward from the sheets craning my neck - the cutlery makes tinkling noise.) (She cackles and barely maintains her balance as she retracts herself.) She:  Seems you're still undone, my naughty boy! Me:  Ah! How truer could you be, kiss me again! (I offer my lips as I take the cup offered by her.) (She smiles and just gives a brief peck on my lips with hers.) She:  *Now we should get our day started, otherwise we'd get late.* Me:  *What did you just say!? We'd get laid? Oh I'd love to!* (I muster an apt piece of laughter for both of us.) (She looks even more angelic as she laughingly pulls both my ears & cheeks.) She:  Get out of the bed, you naughty boy! Me:  Aye-aye madam! And I'll be hungry soon after getting done with my morning duties. (I say greedily to invite another sweet smile from my angel-faced woman.) (She seems to be ready for that and says in a learned manner.) She:  So my dear hubby, what would you have for breakfast? Me:  I'd have you with cheese & salt, milk & sugar and lots of love! (I say that cheekily hoping to make her blush.) (She blushes and turns towards the kitchen, I follow to help her.)
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Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 4:59 AM UTC
She Asked Me What Would I Have For Breakfast
(I am woken up by her honey-sweet voice in the morning.) She:  Good morning honey! Me:  Good morning baby! (I yawn my mouth wide as I say that.) (She smiles & replies tauntingly as she pulls my ear lovingly.) She:  Seems you had a laborious night! Me:  Yeah, a really laborious one indeed. (Even I smile as I remember the last night; full of spice.) (Now she bends towards the side-table and fetches coffee.) She:  Hmmm... I've prepared coffee for you darling, you were asleep. Me:  Oh dear, should I say thanks or kiss you again!? (I move my body forward from the sheets craning my neck - the cutlery makes tinkling noise.) (She cackles and barely maintains her balance as she retracts herself.) She:  Seems you're still undone, my naughty boy! Me:  Ah! How truer could you be, kiss me again! (I offer my lips as I take the cup offered by her.) (She smiles and just gives a brief peck on my lips with hers.) She:  *Now we should get our day started, otherwise we'd get late.* Me:  *What did you just say!? We'd get laid? Oh I'd love to!* (I muster an apt piece of laughter for both of us.) (She looks even more angelic as she laughingly pulls both my ears & cheeks.) She:  Get out of the bed, you naughty boy! Me:  Aye-aye madam! And I'll be hungry soon after getting done with my morning duties. (I say greedily to invite another sweet smile from my angel-faced woman.) (She seems to be ready for that and says in a learned manner.) She:  So my dear hubby, what would you have for breakfast? Me:  I'd have you with cheese & salt, milk & sugar and lots of love! (I say that cheekily hoping to make her blush.) (She blushes and turns towards the kitchen, I follow to help her.)
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when a pronoun retracts and becomes compounded e.g.: itself, himself... it complicates matters with a dually functioning vigor of content expression: which extends thanks to the surgical assertion that the definite aritlce (scalpel) and indefinite article (forceps) proceed to govern a. retractive pronoun usage     within compounding     is reflexive (reflex bias) and b. pronouns given unto punctuation      markings are reflective,      the notorious "i" of      sartre's usage;      in the poor sense of the word      when expressed as mirror-image,      since sarte's linear dittoing      markings possess a narcissistic chiral      exclusion of an active ownership of will      that's simply a misuse of      denotative marking -      it would simply imply an orwellian      conception of double-think, of                          "      what's           "                   actually defined via                                                 "        thinking about it when orientated by gemini        (i.e. the ditto markings          imply a repeat,          or simply - as above / follow suite.)
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Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 11:07 AM UTC
pedant