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"sacral" poems
i begin to arise looking over into your gaze so that i can feel you breathless and shaken with joy in your eyes thirst overtaking the impulse to feel how strong this love is rubbing your skin exposes the warm static throughout im left without air asphyxiating for pleasure head rushing groaning your name please keep going you keep our skin vibrating and purging the toxicity of the world from us taking in only me you can feel my pulse radiate from your sacral place with you gushing out like the words it takes to tell you that i love you and want to fill the empty spaces within for a moment i feel like we’ve become one our bodies sing heavenly tones echo within the confines of this home with archangels watching over as we fulfill our celestial fate
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Sep 28, 2020
Sep 28, 2020 at 11:30 AM UTC
sacral bonding
Each person i meet , i want to show the true self. The one who knows about the other planets , with purple hues and golden sunlight.. where emotions are free from the necessity of a "divine paradox". Each person i meet , i want  she.. the midnight panther to growl from my lips so they know not to mess with me. Each person i meet i want to show them nothing. Be an enigma. Silent  spill very little. Control.  They call it. Each person i meet , will have their own opinion,  but i want them to leave with an idea.... an idea they have not yet fathomed. because what is the point? If no wisdom moves in our veins, When does man wake up to woman's grace?...... I see so many closed root and sacral chakra sometimes i feel uncomfortable because the energy a man may exude is confused. With lust not respect.
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May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
When does man wake up to woman's grace?
You say I am the backbone of the family. Not because I am the youngest, But because I never showed my emotions. But I think it's time to let go. Because when she died, I was the only one who didn't cry. But i cried on the inside. And, when they buried her 6 feet under, My heart skipped 6 beats and I was choking. Yes, it's time for me to let go of my emotions. Because you say I am the backbone. But, I am not strong enough to support 3 sisters, 1 brother, 2 aunts, 1 uncle, and 3 cousins with this, Skinny backbone. Arthritis can't help because I am still afraid to break down. "You have always been the backbone, no matter what." But, I am tired of being Miss Motivation. You are breaking me down form my, Coccyx to my, Sacral to my, Lumber to my, Thorracic and, You're giving me Cervical Cancer. And instead of being a backbone, I feel more like a ligament. Connecting your tears to her tears and, Her tears to his tears and, And that tears me apart. You're swelling up my heart from all your pain and, Right now it's about the size of a catchers mit. I don't want to be the backbone. I am not strong enough to suppport the whole family. Why can't you see that you're exhausting me? Kiaren, Kirsten, Kaye, Lloyd, Aunt Atheda,Aunt Regina, Uncle Tony,Chris,Oliver, Aaron... I am tired of being your backbone. I am not that strong.
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May 24, 2010
May 24, 2010 at 2:05 PM UTC
Backbone
Day's end, sun's caisson doth wend Residual rays a respite to append Twilight's shroud dreary dividend Swirls of gray into firmament blend Vestments of light shed sacral veil Luna's naked, pale orb flashes its spell Twinkling sprites across dark tides sail Constellation's mystical portents braille Nyx, Erebos eclipse Hemera's blithe melody with bass duet  Earth's warmed bed yields its thermal blanket Ocean tides move in rhythmic tandem to cadence of lunar clarinet Swarming shadows stalk each footstep paring each dark secret    Greek gods Nyx: goddess of Night Erebos: goddess of Darkness Hemera: goddess of Day
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Sep 15, 2011
Sep 15, 2011 at 6:35 AM UTC
Night's Hypnotic Trance
Crown Chakra; thorny, Disillusion Manifest: carrot on a stick. It does tend to feel as if my Third Eye is blight; a personal Hell. I seek to sometimes use my Throat Chakra to rend Shadow asunder. At times, so it seems, Heart Chakra seeks mere Pleasure; hollow and fleeting. Sometimes, it feels as if my Solar Plexus becomes a Black Hole. O, Sacral Chakra, Intuition's Harbinger, mislead me no more! Root Chakra; so raw, so unadulterated; such adultery. Considering I only get only this one chance, I must persevere.
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Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 3:37 AM UTC
Black Hole Plexus
my lotus flower buds with an ******** type of pleasure, oh, I never have to reassure her, her eyes gleam with soo much desire, love is not once but made twice with me, I don't use words, I'm brimming with ****** attraction, The general population call this a taboo, so I limit this to only a small fraction, creativity swims in me like the Pisces, and will always be enticing, but remember to hold the sacral chakra.
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Jun 17, 2019
Jun 17, 2019 at 10:27 AM UTC
sacral chakra
your touch, deafening noise chaotic choruses; clouding my mind agitating hourglasses, showing me that time exists. but, why do you do this to me? after claiming connection.. – meditated movements in the moment, is what i crave; in my tension setting intention. opening and activating the root of my sacral desires. – do you not have it in you? bass dissolving; enough to take the beat away into your fingertips? with half of your heart touching me; calculated caresses, preplanned movements.. haven't you ever let yourself lose control? haven't you ever closed your eyes and seen into my soul? yes? no? maybe? lost eyes tell me otherwise. – do not touch me, unless you mean it..
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Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 12:54 AM UTC
False touch
Now that I’ve told you all my secrets Won’t you come in the night and ****** me with the truth? Push me down, and tie me to the bed that I made Freudian-slipping between layers of *in vino veritas conversations* When I manifested from under the mask where I just want to be accepted as both the light and my shadow Won’t you come pull my dark passenger from the dark depths of my sacral chakra? My deepest desires spiraling out, you've got me wrapped around your finger I am the snake coiled around the core of the sweetest fruit I just want to savor Then slither back home To the Goddess of the Abode To decompress this tension To Rise up and slit my throat at the vortex of expression
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Jul 28, 2016
Jul 28, 2016 at 10:30 PM UTC
II. The Sweetest Fruit: Svadhishthana
Press me into the mossed tree flanked in auric diaspora lifting billowing dress with one hand pressing it with mine into the drape of fabric framed by tree bark divets breath incumbent drifting in mellowed heaves heavy against my frame pulse cadence requisite engorging blood thinned eyes dilated spine ***** pinning me expectancy pelvic tilt sacral arch calf raking thigh I climb you
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Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 8:36 PM UTC
Pulsing Climb
Every dawn is a nexus, / Every twilight is a beckoning; therefore, / Embrace the fickle future / Ensconscing within the sacral oath / Of a thousand words: / These utterances shall envelop you / When upon Triumphal Arcadian Skies / We meet again. / Save your tears, / For love shall reign / From the empyreal aethers above / To the Gaian epidermis of / The Magnanimous Matriarch; moreover, the mellifluous kisses / Of The Sovereign of Songbirds / Will burgeon within, / Will descend upon you as The Holy Dove. / Unfurl your third eye, / See with an indefatigable clarity / All that you were meant to be: / Strong, Wise, Just; / Love; / A luminary fulminating / Radiantly, resplendently upon / The Denizens of the Terrene. / (—Se' lah)
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Sep 9, 2021
Sep 9, 2021 at 12:00 AM UTC
The Celestial Swansong (Originally penned on Monday, September 6th, 2021)
Your ex-girl friend looks like ice and I'm fire. Talk me down to Earth, the energy has ***** my heart these days. Desire. Sacral chakra running roses through the ground. Dragon's blood ink - I wanna write your name. It's red like eyes from the winter, red like boiling point. Do you miss my lipstick or Scarlett - my name? The color of a liquid you would sacrifice for injustice in the name of a government. Red like the sheets in the hotel bed when I took your virginity. The color of the gang you represented at every night club, the hand motions from club meetings that yearned rebellion. I want to see your tattoo I drew to depict you a month before you got it. Red like cop lights that saw the last of you. 111
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Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 1:14 AM UTC
Red
I keep seeing her in post-traumatic flashbacks back to back she's bound in a little black dress Tearing through the mayhem the mosh pit of my mind To save me Some punk princess archetype always in another castle castrating the ******* symbol Because she's 'O so liberated ...So I decorated her With a pearl necklace Old patriarchal habits die hard Honey Sweet Nectar Ambrosia Summoned from my sacral chakra Come my Goddess Come my Goddess Come
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Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 5:39 PM UTC
Anima Evocation
.  .  .  .  .  .  . .                 . .  .   .   .   .   .   . i would like a space marked out wherein in silence i'd observe my sacral auguries,   and insularly divine amid mid-dawning light contingencies, to sweep a magic sweep for sunrise-                                                                        -tabula|_|rasa and find, founded in a flout: a sect beyond sects to section self sectionless~ inwrought helix interhelix nest~ and there reside attentively ()blinking()        s l o w      ...ly in rainbow eyelash quiver flow, arrows     soaring      ' '  '    '         '              'centerly to        pin    each                whirl of dream,                        of sleep,                            mneumonic residue,                                              prehensions right    or wrong    clear through -- symbological goo, too-- all too evidently called from out an obvious deep oblivion of plenum om, or so it's said it's seen in clear eidetic percept room of alter overmInd of mindstuff's tomb [*] and form of selfish altar drama gone and soon for looking in or out or neither both oblique, about aboutness-mirror zoom~ to which what spectionism halves behaving in a twofold twining intro free: the finest of the fine: insight-interred        intuited sign quiescently, albeit doubtfully at times, benign . . . .
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Aug 4, 2012
Aug 4, 2012 at 4:32 PM UTC
(templum) for an inner sectionalism (/escapism)
.  .  .  .  .  .  . .                 . .  .   .   .   .   .   . i would like a space marked out wherein in silence i'd observe my sacral auguries,   and insularly divine amid mid-dawning light contingencies, to sweep a magic sweep for sunrise-                                                                        -tabula|_|rasa and find, founded in a flout: a sect beyond sects to section self sectionless~ inwrought helix interhelix nest~ and there reside attentively ()blinking()        s l o w      ...ly in rainbow eyelash quiver flow, arrows     soaring      ' '  '    '         '              'centerly to        pin    each                whirl of dream,                        of sleep,                            mneumonic residue,                                              prehensions right    or wrong    clear through -- symbological goo, too-- all too evidently called from out an obvious deep oblivion of plenum om, or so it's said it's seen in clear eidetic percept room of alter overmInd of mindstuff's tomb [*] and form of selfish altar drama gone and soon for looking in or out or neither both oblique, about aboutness-mirror zoom~ to which what spectionism halves behaving in a twofold twining intro free: the finest of the fine: insight-interred        intuited sign quiescently, albeit doubtfully at times, benign . . . .
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41
Righteous Isis, priceless queen, rife with green vines winding between her lungs, around her tongue, crowned with beams of the ancient sun, power of Ra beneath her thumb, life-giving wife, wild child of reptiles, pride of the Nile-- righteous Isis, she who gives birth to heaven and earth, sovereign sorceress, steward of words, my ancestress, blessed with flesh, this bright protectress, next to death with theft of her name, maimed by insane fanatics grasping semi-automatics aimed at righteous Isis, spliced into terrorist crisis situations, sacred name on a radical federation, used for devastation, appropriation of my divine mother, brothers-in-arms killing the culture of their own nations, of past generations, of righteous Isis, torn from her temple by scorned fundamentalists, prayers to her used to take insurgent censuses now when i bow to my goddess, my empress, the powers suspect I'm a member of rightist ISIS, who crosses off competition with crucifixion, lays foundations for jurisdiction with immolation, with detonation, decapitation of journalists, their murderous fists taking nations, rightist ISIS, whose power rests on the shoulders of dread, men obsessed with erasing the names of every goddess we hold close, of every man who knows Mohammed did not preach death, of every Buddhist, every Jew, every pagan, every Hindu, choking the breath from those who don’t believe what they do-- rightist ISIS, you think you own the sun but not this one, not this pristine queen who tears the thunder from the skies, and she will strike you down with pestilent blight she'll smite you with a blistering light, she'll drown you and ignite the tide, and you will die with the second rise of righteous Isis, whose hand rocked the cradle of civilization, whose shrines make the sacral heart of nations, whose each breath gives divine illumination, who shakes off the wasted shame and patiently waits as we chant her names-- all ten thousand in glorification.
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Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 12:44 AM UTC
O Goddess
Righteous Isis, priceless queen, rife with green vines winding between her lungs, around her tongue, crowned with beams of the ancient sun, power of Ra beneath her thumb, life-giving wife, wild child of reptiles, pride of the Nile-- righteous Isis, she who gives birth to heaven and earth, sovereign sorceress, steward of words, my ancestress, blessed with flesh, this bright protectress, next to death with theft of her name, maimed by insane fanatics grasping semi-automatics aimed at righteous Isis, spliced into terrorist crisis situations, sacred name on a radical federation, used for devastation, appropriation of my divine mother, brothers-in-arms killing the culture of their own nations, of past generations, of righteous Isis, torn from her temple by scorned fundamentalists, prayers to her used to take insurgent censuses now when i bow to my goddess, my empress, the powers suspect I'm a member of rightist ISIS, who crosses off competition with crucifixion, lays foundations for jurisdiction with immolation, with detonation, decapitation of journalists, their murderous fists taking nations, rightist ISIS, whose power rests on the shoulders of dread, men obsessed with erasing the names of every goddess we hold close, of every man who knows Mohammed did not preach death, of every Buddhist, every Jew, every pagan, every Hindu, choking the breath from those who don’t believe what they do-- rightist ISIS, you think you own the sun but not this one, not this pristine queen who tears the thunder from the skies, and she will strike you down with pestilent blight she'll smite you with a blistering light, she'll drown you and ignite the tide, and you will die with the second rise of righteous Isis, whose hand rocked the cradle of civilization, whose shrines make the sacral heart of nations, whose each breath gives divine illumination, who shakes off the wasted shame and patiently waits as we chant her names-- all ten thousand in glorification.
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56
O silver and black knight of the forest, what goal have you taken up for the castle? "I seek to slay with my beauty only..." "Slay those cries and moans from lonely damsels." "What business does an evil eye have in the land of purity and repose?" "I have many good deeds fine guardian." "Then enter secure, but let no evil in, or you will be cast out." .... "You have no business here until your wicked deeds are paid for, get out!" "Hey, that's okay," a fair damsel allows me to part from my solitude. Put on the sandy veil of partnership, for the spirit has reached into the divine female and divine male. Let those chakras make a transpersonal point, but sacral business is all I see. Maidens forever young. It seems an eunich has breached our display. But are we allowed back into the land of purity and repose? It seems the true goal of a babe's heart at the lap of his mother has entered the lair. Now is the fair damsel taken to the merciless judge. Now is a beautiful friend, waiting all this time, to exchange a breeze of heartfelt love. ****** purity is sought after, yet there is no place to hide a **** Light no longer is transferred from the 8th dimension. The male/female chakras above the crown open up again for sacral play. The sattvic essence remains, and I am held dearly at this party. The children outlast me during the night. I enter through a circular gate of pastel crystal petals into a deck of superstrength beings of all colors. A female face is grafted to mine. She puts on silver and black armor and the walls are crimson.
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Dec 21, 2020
Dec 21, 2020 at 2:11 AM UTC
Knight of the Forest
O silver and black knight of the forest, what goal have you taken up for the castle? "I seek to slay with my beauty only..." "Slay those cries and moans from lonely damsels." "What business does an evil eye have in the land of purity and repose?" "I have many good deeds fine guardian." "Then enter secure, but let no evil in, or you will be cast out." .... "You have no business here until your wicked deeds are paid for, get out!" "Hey, that's okay," a fair damsel allows me to part from my solitude. Put on the sandy veil of partnership, for the spirit has reached into the divine female and divine male. Let those chakras make a transpersonal point, but sacral business is all I see. Maidens forever young. It seems an eunich has breached our display. But are we allowed back into the land of purity and repose? It seems the true goal of a babe's heart at the lap of his mother has entered the lair. Now is the fair damsel taken to the merciless judge. Now is a beautiful friend, waiting all this time, to exchange a breeze of heartfelt love. ****** purity is sought after, yet there is no place to hide a **** Light no longer is transferred from the 8th dimension. The male/female chakras above the crown open up again for sacral play. The sattvic essence remains, and I am held dearly at this party. The children outlast me during the night. I enter through a circular gate of pastel crystal petals into a deck of superstrength beings of all colors. A female face is grafted to mine. She puts on silver and black armor and the walls are crimson.
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41
Out by the Strange Creek a little drunk, I built a tower of stone, an imaginary throne, I pondered of power and sat on a stump, The moon hung like an old friend from up above, There were many around, laughing and happy, A few on the guitar sounded a little sappy, Tents dotted the river, and I dipped my tows in the sand, The stars up above illuminated the camp but not the bands, Too many drugs made there way around, back in the woods everyone gathered around a stage, and jammed the music, they blazed, for themselves, their future, but mostly the present, Their bodies swayed, in a daze, Acid, **** liquor and E Oh boy, it was a party, but the last bit of my sober self, turned inwards and the whole of me felt, the seven chakras flowing through me, connecting me to infinity, We partied for three days, acid babies littered the place, We drank for our mistakes, and listened to The Machine, The wall flowing through me, We freed our bodies, and our souls to the void, On the last night we were over joyed, But now that I'm leaving I feel it slipping away My crown chakra back into the haze, My mind's eye back into a cage, My throat chakra back underneath, My heart chakra feels only grief, My solar plexus can't handle a nexus, My sacral is fine though, trust me, But my roots, They don't even trust me
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Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 12:58 AM UTC
The Strange Creek
Summoning a Spring time synchronicity The Goddess Archetype Submitting at nature's feet Resonating the ground Shaking the Earth for the divine crown To grace me with her presence She'll embrace my transgressions Wrapped around and tethered out from my sacral region My Princess almost got you beat But she was always in another castle Leaving notes warning me of the ghosts that'll chase me down when I'm distracted It was always about the journey so she left me with the gift of permanent flight My imagination took it and ran with it To the ascensions The haunting happenstance of the girl of my dreams Teetering on the edge of sleep We met halfway at fatigue Waking up on the shores of her subconscious Or was it mine? Here's to shared consciousness Pouring my heart out into an empty glass house Half-filled after I built it for her The rest of the emptiness subsides She found safety here So she locked her totem away Replacing her sanity with a vacancy sign A simple idea planted but never manifested Until it tore her soul out It was her on the ledge of some building begging me to jump with her Shared freefall Like we're still dreaming to wake up and let reality's lie wash over us She's slipping She's caught up in mystery There was always something about her The way of the cliche and how it magnetizes Pulling my insides out Projecting my other half.
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Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 5:40 PM UTC
Manic Pixie Dream Girl
I keep seeing hints of you   In forced synchronicity    Where everything adds up to 5     Maybe it's a sign      Or I'm losing my ******* mind again      Did you catch the hint?     Is the madman manifesting?    Impulsive manic mood swings to paper   Filling out with the Full Moon As the Maiden waxes away I'm watching   Light up my sacral bond    Lightning strikes     like shotgun blows to the sky      A peephole into Heaven's locker room      Blame it on the the rain     You caught me off guard    Out of sync   Girl you know it's true That we're stranger than fiction My siren in the satire Muse in the mayhem of my mind I could be your Vonnegut As I'm Freudian slipping On my spilled guts in the 5th slaughterhouse
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May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 11:10 PM UTC
Muse in the Mayhem
Staring you down From my sacral chakra But what makes you so ******* sacred? It's no secret You loosen Your legs When I tap the tip of my tongue to my teeth Go on show me your spirit animal underneath Between the vibrations of divinity I hummed along and sung you back to a deity
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Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 4:02 PM UTC
II. Get Wet: Svadisthana
“What is the most intimate thing you've ever done?”  she asked,  as she produced a small kit and withdrew a syringe, holding it between her long fingernails.  She turned up the volume of the music to intensify the moment. “You think *** is intimacy?” *** is a body function!  I'm talking about sharing myself and becoming a part of you, with the very essence of me racing through your veins.  Are you scared?” Metallica screamed in background. What is the most intimate thing I've ever done, I asked myself. If it isn't *** what is it? Give flowers, candy, jewelry, pen a song, write romantic verse? Achelous's daughter enticed. 'Course I was thinking like a male. A woman would think of sharing, beautiful sunsets, long cruises, romantic dinners, holding hands... She prepared my entertainment, like a sacral ritual, and I imagined Japanese flutes. Sharing isn't intimacy. I could've shared by dropping my trou, but it was doubtful, it would been appreciated, but no less than her sharing was to me then. "It's making someone feel special." Having said that I slammed the door.
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Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 1:33 PM UTC
on defining intimacy
For, lo! All now merges into Energy, A wild mass of liquid Rhodium, Incorruptible, Wherefrom, behold ye! A novel Frame of Body, It rises again! It rises again! Dazzlingly gleaming Wi' thousand sacral wounds.
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Dec 30, 2020
Dec 30, 2020 at 5:10 AM UTC
Rhodium-Worn
Sitting in my Yurt: A trophy room Warming myself by A violet flame Tom Waits streaming, essentially screaming 'All Stripped Down' 6 dwarves on the wall ~ my masks: Base, sacral, solar plexus, heart, third eye One place left It feels right Inevitably coming off My crown, no longer masking Free flowing energies Tantric, not romantic In search of the Moon Octavio whispers about the Sun Removing the 7th dwarf Reveals a giant It's Snow White and it's Ivory & Obsidian 1 blink yes 2 blinks no Rebuilding psyche On a binary platform Climbing over the rainbow You change all the lead sleeping in my head to gold Through a black and white prism Entrained within the prison A white horse Resounding out of the North Through an impossible nightmare Built on kamikaze dreams Boundaries dissolve into a never ending Never beginning: yin yang Another yellow brick in The wall
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Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 7:07 PM UTC
Metaphysical Mayhem
As she adjusted her bra strap, I noticed my lust. Blindingly sevidical, but as brief as a wrap, To control, to control, let it fall to the dust. I wished for many a time Merely to speak, to flow, allow my thoughts to congeal. Alas, it was faulty; only amounting to my sacral slime. I should realise, fortify the need for reckless zeal. Claim envy. Jealousy. Angst. A coward. A loser. A failure. For sure, for sure. It appears it canst. Only to seek, touch, comprehend your allure. Sirens and succubi hold no claim. Vixens and Amazons wither in your light. Incorporate: Intelligence. Ineffectual. Insane. For you lasted longer than any mere sight. They will ask me, one day How I allowed the fissure to exist. Fall. Fall. At the bottom you lay. I will respond, “It was my cowardice I kissed”
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Dec 12, 2010
Dec 12, 2010 at 11:01 PM UTC
The Sage on my Shoulder
I caught her telepathically feeling me up From across these parking lots where I always find myself stalling even when I'm not parked Her eyes were like darts to my sacral chakra She must have felt the spark igniting my erogenous area Now her soul's on fire Just how she imagined it To be devoured eternally To have the life ****** out of her To feel the little death Rebirth her senses It was all in her head just how I imagined it.
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Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 8:48 PM UTC
It Was All In Her Head
I was wayworn, The fiber, bone, and marrow of my entity pined To be quenched, to be drenched In the ardent streams of Esprit d’ amour (All we need is love). The crossroads I’d encountered Brought my vagrant soul to this place Every onerous weight Was worth it, I’ve ascended; But, Where does etherealization lead? Someday, I will effloresce, Bloom in reminiscence From seeds of grace, Aromatic petals of heartsease; O, within the fertile soil of fidelity, I will fully fathom The perfume of Life’s Tapestry. A martyred past can be tortuous; Yes, salvation can seem scant, and our future dubious; But, transcendence is harmonious With believing, an Adamantine heart, and A luminous soul. Therefore, open your symphonic heart, Let the reverberations roam freely, uninhibitedly, Like a harmony, your thoughts and consciousness will overlap, All will flow through you abundantly. Clairvoyant Bravebird unfurl thy wings You sacral, divine, susurrant song-weaving dream. (Se’ lah)
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Apr 7, 2021
Apr 7, 2021 at 3:55 AM UTC
Clairvoyant Bravebird (Originally penned on Wednesday, April 7th, 2021)