"sacrificially" poems
kisses on your warm sweet mouth
tender lips caressed
exploring your ******* and raised ******* ..
belly and thighs enveloped
those eager dark delicious places that i covet so
your musk erogenous
the path to your hungry soul
eater of the poison apple
your eyes widen bright with delight
a strange synesthesia you say
your smile a hypnotic alter
you prone
back arched
belly willing
as i drag a curved blade slowly across your winsome flesh
worshiping you
breathing your warm breath into my mouth and nostrils
come now
you coo
i am sheildless
then little strangles that excite
to see how you do
will you love it
adorations twisted mind
she demon
a wizened dizzy Venus
please yes
her **** drenches the bed
a warm viscosity
legs widen
feet piqued
*****
exotic delicatessen
Heralded
i enter with long sweet butter strokes
the sabbath of desire
I swear
i wont let you suffer...
never !
why you say?
because i love you
lovely scythe you call
as if lulled to sleep
whispering dreadful incantations .
i ache to close the curtain
to lifes scalding chatter
wrap me
in a raggy shawl
impale the throat
like ive alway dreamed
a last exhalation
flood gates pour forth
as deaths dark fold
dissolves all
i rock you drugged
absinthe and wormwood
a last ***** of candles flame
white gauze cinched
lips on a lost mouth
eyes a static pyre
i linger
wishing you still plush
an animated glow
so that i could feel your arms,
now milky white relics
only to take you all over again and again and again
dreamer of the abyss
yet you stand
aberrations, smoke ghost
sacrificially swaying your hips
calling from Hades
dancer of ritual copulation
i melt like wax in the sun
wither
and die myself
marriage Italian style
dead bells in love
blotted out by the Sirens of Mara
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 4:45 PM UTC
Father is a verb.
- Let me explain:
Father's Day; and
Father Christmas
have tried to convince us,
but don't be fooled:
You can, may or will father,
depending on your mood.
For father is a verb.
It only works in the transitive;
you can't father alone,
only in relationship.
It doesn't resent hospital trips,
and offers wrap-around comfort
when a partnership splits.
It's touch-line volume
drowns out all rivals.
And belly laughs come standard
with jokes on recycle.
[insert joke here]
Yes, father is a verb.
It's something we each do,
despite the hour,
it drives right on through
the night when life’s gone sour.
It'll hammer ten finger nails
to get the job done.
It will dance, heedless of decorum
forgetting reputation.
It turns manliness
into awesome-men-ness,
It tempers strength
with a dose of gentleness, yes
father is a verb.
Be sure, whoever you are,
it works in the singular:
I can father;
You can father
(I'm not talking *** here;
that takes a partner.)
But also,
- it works in the plural -
we can father;
and they can father,
because, you see, in this village
it's an joint activity:
we father (and we mother)
collaboratively.
It works best in the present tense,
happening now, not "LATER!".
It can be said in a gentle voice
or something - even - quieter;
sometimes active:
directive, protecting;
but often responsive:
just sitting, listening;
...holding, and, hugging;
it responds to need, you see,
but works best proactively,
works great
sacrificially.
For example,
though it cost him dearly,
God Fathers us
and through us daily.
And one day, suit pressed,
He'll proudly walk
with the bride of Christ.
And as Father of the bride,
He'll host the party and blow the price;
(- BIGGEST - bar-bill - EVER)
And we'll be sure to save at least one dance
for Father.
Oh yes, you heard,
Father is a verb.
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 2:32 PM UTC
~*a companion poem to
Marry Me! -(I am-in-love-with-you) (1)*~
wherein was writ:
**“here I stop
lest I die of bursting, and yet I weep
for us, for you,
no longer
read my poetry”**
<>
another winter’s day cruelty,
for this wretched refuse of a
former man
who
once could,
who even deemed
owner of a loving teeming,
who adored kneeling,
before love’s altar,
sacrificially, heroically
once in possession of
amazing grace, (2)
but now no longer such
in his scriptures
deeded,
for our save-by-day ,
appears, before my eyes,
so informing my love permit
has now time~expired
I once was found,
but not
once more,
but
once again,
refamiliarized with
loss
wretched and wrenched,
so I punch up at the sky,
and the sky,
like you, my love,
doesn’t punch back,
and now we are in
aggrieved agree:
there is no returning
to where
we graced each other,
so one more poem I’ll
prepare
so let it be,
the “we”
will be momentarily -
but not ! ever lastingly
but for a well~timed
very finite infinity
be returned
to coexist
and let
grace be extended
even surreptitiously
for we
to separate,
sub divide our souls,
in a graceful manner:
*why this last act,
a hallmark of
what once
stood for
us,
was,
and perhaps then,
you will read:*
my only love poetry
once moreover,
with com-passion
and even tiny teeny seconds
of memorized affection,
and that would be an
amazing grace
Dec 13, 2024
Dec 13, 2024 at 3:17 PM UTC
There's a solitary sadness in my soul when I think of you
and him, touching you the way I should have
I happened upon your pictures on the internet and cried
because you seem happy, in a way I could never have made you
Remember the late nights, sleep deprivation, voice messages and pixels
Remember me as the boy that adored you, amorous and angst-free
I think about you still, daily, years later, after our odyssey
You lied, a lot, I understand though, of course I do
I just wish it had been me, that bore you children,
and entered into that classic institution of which I had no interest before you
Please, I hope you remember me, as I remember you, the time of day
Today I am depressed and wish you were here
Today I feel as if you know
and today I still love you.
Does he make you happy
If so I shall leave
If not I'll leave anyway, for what else can I do
When love has closed it's door, boarded the windows and turned on the sprinklers
Everyday I **** another memory of you, sacrificially
It's easy to do when you have a substance addiction
The ****** makes it easier to breathe since I no longer have you
Lonely robot, lonely boy, bruised synapse and broken spirit
Another tab will ease the pain
Another shot, one less to gain
Taping on a keyboard
Fruitlessly I came.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 10:28 AM UTC
What legendary parts
Can we play.
Might we emote sullenness
And find a sheath for our daggers;
Act impetuously and stab at rats;
Be susceptible to lies and hankies;
Do we speak proudly to our friends
And countrymen;
Should we go mad, be foolish
To float on laurels, and drown;
Are we advisers and know-it-all
Busy bodies;
Will we be friends, and die
Sacrificially in the end;
Should we cut out our tongues
And gauge out our eyes,
To draw pictures in the dirt;
Why be so courageous as to fall
On your sword;
Will we smile and be a villain,
Then fall off our high horse?
Or
Will we give new meaning to love;
Replace the stars in their orbs;
Control the elements for our children;
Bear our friends like princes;
Accept harlequins at court;
Be gentlemanly in any state;
Love more than ten thousand brothers;
Support our partners in what they will?
Script your part.
Life isn't all comedy and tragedy.
Shadows don't offend,
And life is more yielding
Than a dream.
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 1:21 PM UTC
I was a minor who grew up as part of the majority of minorities. Then I embraced a misfit lifestyle, believing Christ, the Messiah, holds all authority. I became a Marine and a married man receiving more responsibility. I'm becoming a medic, treating trauma and those who's lives need monitoring. In the midst of it all, my entire life has been molded by this common theme: ministry.
Not the religious type, but the genuinely authentic, legitimate kind; full of humble and authentic servants and leaders through community; Imperfect people pursuing positive change and holiness; its more than self-prosperity. I call this community of people, Church, and these members I call my family.
My life ain't perfect, but its been a blessing to live life despite dark days, receiving unearned and undeserving forgiveness, mercy, and grace. My hope can't be "proven" real or fake, its why its called faith. So may those who obey through faith bring peace, placing hope on display. I am nothing without God. My love for you comes from Love He sacrificially gave. My heart, mind, and soul are transformed and influenced by His perfect ways. May the One whose might cannot be matched receive glory and praise, for His ways have given me, a newly-shaped life, that is, the least to say... Im ever thankful. Amen [YAWEH]!
This is me. The medic-in-the-making, former Marine, Messiah's misfit from the mass of minorities - ministry molding my life, even in the midst of where I'm moved to next. I just want to obey, do, and be better for me, you, and future generations. There's really no harm in this. You could disarm the hostile hits. There's good news (the gospel message) and my past, present, and future are moved by it! Be blessed!
[MAKE YOUR MOVES]
9 Jan 19
0103hrs
Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 9:55 AM UTC
Father is a verb. -
Father's Day and Father Christmas
have tried to convince us, - but don't – be - fooled:
You can, may or will father, depending on your mood.
For father is a verb.
It only works in the transitive.
you can't father alone, only in relationship.
It doesn't resent hospital trips,
and offers wrap-around comfort when a partnership splits.
It's touch-line volume drowns out all rivals.
And belly laughs come standard with jokes on recycle.
(insert dad joke here)
Yes, father is a verb.
It's something that you do, despite the hour,
it drives right on through the night when life’s gone sour.
It'll hammer ten fingernails to get the job done.
It will dance, heedless of decorum
forgetting reputation (with an ill-suited hat on).
It turns manliness into awesome-men-ness,
It tempers strength with a dose of gentleness, yes
father is a verb.
Be sure, whoever you are, it works in the singular:
I can father; You can father
(and I'm not talking *** here;
that mostly needs a partner.)
But also,
- it works in the plural -
we can father; and they can father, because, you see,
in this village it’s a joint activity:
we father (and we mother) collaboratively.
It works best in the present tense,
happening now, not "later!". -
It can be said in a gentle voice
or something - even - quieter.
sometimes active: directive, protecting.
but often responsive:
just sitting, listening.
... holding, and hugging.
It responds to need, you see, but works best proactively,
works great sacrificially.
More specifically, in the end it’s a doing word
not a noun to be worn like some tilted crown
It's not some post-coitus reflexive honorific
It's a feat way beyond a sudden beget.
Father’s not some title that you necessarily deserve.
It's one that's sorely earned.
Please believe me - that’s right, you heard,
father is a present continuous, long lifetime of a verb.
Jul 17, 2022
Jul 17, 2022 at 11:28 AM UTC
Satan is a defeated foe
although he continues to fight -
For we are more than conquerors,
as soldiers in God's army of Light.
His earthly authority has been weakened
since Christ now possesses the keys of Death and Hell;
so we're to prayerfully "stand in the gap"
as we in His Presence strive to dwell.
Our lasting Hope is embodied by Christ alone;
He died to prove His Love as a friend.
Willingly and sacrificially He laid down His Life
and invited us to a Kingdom that never ends.
Our standing in Heaven for eternity
will be forever reflective of... Final Victory.
Author Note:
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 5:51 AM UTC
Father is a verb.
- Let me explain:
Father's Day; and
Father Christmas
have tried to convince us,
but don't be fooled:
You can, may or will father,
depending on your mood.
For father is a verb.
It only works in the transitive;
you can't father alone,
only in relationship.
It doesn't resent hospital trips,
and offers wrap-around comfort
when a partnership splits.
It's touch-line volume
drowns out all rivals.
And belly laughs come standard
with jokes on recycle.
[insert joke here]
Yes, father is a verb.
It's something we each do,
despite the hour,
it drives right on through
the night when life’s gone sour.
It'll hammer ten finger nails
to get the job done.
It will dance, heedless of decorum
forgetting reputation.
It turns manliness
into awesome-men-ness,
It tempers strength
with a dose of gentleness, yes
father is a verb.
Be sure, whoever you are,
it works in the singular:
I can father;
You can father
(I'm not talking *** here;
that takes a partner.)
But also,
- it works in the plural -
we can father;
and they can father,
because, you see, in this village
it's an joint activity:
we father (and we mother)
collaboratively.
It works best in the present tense,
happening now, not "LATER!".
It can be said in a gentle voice
or something - even - quieter;
sometimes active:
directive, protecting;
but often responsive:
just sitting, listening;
...holding, and, hugging;
it responds to need, you see,
but works best proactively,
works great
sacrificially.
For example,
though it cost him dearly,
God Fathers us
and through us daily.
And one day, suit pressed,
He'll proudly walk
with the bride of Christ.
And as Father of the bride,
He'll host the party and blow the price;
(- BIGGEST - bar-bill - EVER)
And we'll be sure to save at least one dance
for Father.
Oh yes, you heard,
Father is a verb.
Jun 21, 2020
Jun 21, 2020 at 2:16 PM UTC
*shovel and hoof and the falling hood of death, worth a dozen eggs ate, as a Jew prayed to the name, whether horse or wheat be made sacrificially holy and all else be made be sacrificially sound - or a dozen children for the ***** of Adolph for jokes and iconoclastic propaganda... even i know that Adolph overthrew the rites of Abraham given Eva Braun... and whenever the whip, i'd cuddle a paraphrase for a never-figured-out venture that led to a cul de sac... and oh the rich ladies charcoal their fingerprints into nothing more than crime desirable signatures.*
Algorithm next door: another lashing of ***** maxim encyclopedia - i.e. the numbers, and subsequent replicas... brr brr bring on the clone army; and the fiddler on the roof said: if i were rich man... ha shem, translated: o horse, o cow-dung... had i but a name a name equal to yours: as mother said, Samuel - Son of Noel: sweat for chamomile tea brew...and with truce: dumb enough to build the pyramids: dumb enough to build, and thus inherit... said the Palatine Palestinian: or come to my Arctic warmth and lick the ice... for fear that insomnia might be the thief of your dreams... pa pa plumb! sha! gerrrrman schtil! let''s call culture a truant mind-set... and later count the grades as gutter of what became known as Harvard... in orifice the neon twilight to nuance the open pupil of inspector lizard, the mammal, a cat, thus petted, in cat abhorred to suit a lion's mane, and the hairdresser: and with Chopin they made entree with state-held diagnosis of Donald Duck, abbreviated with media: niet!
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 1:25 AM UTC
If life has a purpose,
What would it be?
Getting to know God
Before entering eternity?
Becoming someone God can entrust
With Kingdom responsibility?
Learning how to give ourselves
To loving sacrificially?
Training us for the future world,
Where God's children reign victoriously?
Building friendships through life's hardships
That nothing and no one can come between?
Accomplishing works and fulfilling dreams
That bring Heaven's joy to humanity?
I believe all of the above could be true,
As well as more I currently cannot see.
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 7:42 PM UTC