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"secretion" poems
Web caught trembling prey, blistering sadness in a shallow grave Repulsive, rotten ***** stench, locked box of putrid sorrow Blood clot hidden trench, vile secretion burrow Wolf-dressed goblin ***** muttering incantations Teetering on a broken fence, seething hatred regurgitation Greedy, evil, spineless, ***** Cunning, patient, ***** One head desire, two face succubus Speech craft, forked tongue. Slithering witch, foul gargoyle Rebuke the venomous. Castrate the young. Stoke the funeral pyre Incubate the serpent fetus. Demon, devil, liar Nevermore, sinister toil. Bone-covered soil I smite her without a flicker of remorse Death to the succubus. Death to Venus
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Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 6:20 AM UTC
Death to Venus
at the point of entry (explicit) it does not strike me strange at the point of entry when the heightened senses and the dark subconscious merge when the lust and the sweat intersect with ego desire and self is everlasting everything that the ***** words secretion is sticky on my tongue when I pant poems born in rawness and tears on this the last day of the year and eyes closed see visions extraordinaire and the Maker whispers in both ears see! it is the see of what is me, it is the point of entry and departure, one and the same, conception an immaculate mess, the emptying and the fulfilling, when unkempt promises are born free flowing and semi-truths transform into actualities unforeseen and my child cells of new poems are injected, stored, awaiting the birthright and the death of publication, my moment of privileged perfection passes and frowns and smiles are one and the same, silken thread wove open and shut the precision precious circumcising of flesh and soul departing the utter collapse from within, the drowning in the amniotic, rebirthing rebutting my denying that I have no more to give I believe I belong to you for it is what the desire firing cylinders say repeatedly in the union of the up and the down cycle: come, come inside me, I am the pleasure you are the treasure in one cup measured conjoined container when the point of entry is the point of departure and with eyes closed from satisfaction and prayer I see everything all at the same time, uttering: I am undone utterly and the difference between the end and the beginning can be seen only at the millisecond long seven decade coming point of entry 12/31/17 5:38am dawn dying and new day mourning
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Dec 31, 2017
Dec 31, 2017 at 5:59 AM UTC
at the (explicit) point of entry12/31
at the point of entry (explicit) it does not strike me strange at the point of entry when the heightened senses and the dark subconscious merge when the lust and the sweat intersect with ego desire and self is everlasting everything that the ***** words secretion is sticky on my tongue when I pant poems born in rawness and tears on this the last day of the year and eyes closed see visions extraordinaire and the Maker whispers in both ears see! it is the see of what is me, it is the point of entry and departure, one and the same, conception an immaculate mess, the emptying and the fulfilling, when unkempt promises are born free flowing and semi-truths transform into actualities unforeseen and my child cells of new poems are injected, stored, awaiting the birthright and the death of publication, my moment of privileged perfection passes and frowns and smiles are one and the same, silken thread wove open and shut the precision precious circumcising of flesh and soul departing the utter collapse from within, the drowning in the amniotic, rebirthing rebutting my denying that I have no more to give I believe I belong to you for it is what the desire firing cylinders say repeatedly in the union of the up and the down cycle: come, come inside me, I am the pleasure you are the treasure in one cup measured conjoined container when the point of entry is the point of departure and with eyes closed from satisfaction and prayer I see everything all at the same time, uttering: I am undone utterly and the difference between the end and the beginning can be seen only at the millisecond long seven decade coming point of entry 12/31/17 5:38am dawn dying and new day mourning
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41
You signal with your eyes, permission. It’s a look that twists my heart. My epinephrine increases, inhibits insulin secretion and my blood glucose rises. Hands roam mountains and valleys. Hips become handles. We scatter clothes across the room. Our thoughts are scattered. Down isn’t the floor, it’s the opposite of high. My breath is caught between my lungs and your tongue, darting across mine. Pain flirts with pleasure. Whoever said lips taste like strawberries is wrong. They taste much better than that.
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Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 9:43 PM UTC
Dessert
you made my blood clot, so slowly and gently, coagulating beneath your faint touch. on flaxen sheets of rough cotton I watched your plants rolling their limbs out your open window. they sprawled themselves, unravelling, yearning for the gentle kiss of the suns rays. an almost ****** photosynthesis. and for you I would sprawl myself out too, and with the same eagerness absorb every scent of yours into my flesh, and drink desperately from your soul like a cacti in its first summer shower since '89. and your final gasp, with me, but a sponge for your every metaphoric suppuration, and literal secretion. and you were transfixed there, spurting auras of sin and love. a final burst of ecstasy, you soon became my anticoagulant. you seeped into my bloodstream, reversing this gentle coagulation.
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Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 7:02 AM UTC
gentle coagulation
Perspiration accumulates into salty beads, Falling into her eyes, eyes that have lost their gleam. We’ve been trapped like savaged animals for three agonizing nights. Diminutive apertures in this death box supply minimal light. The screech of the rails are a bittersweet melody to our ears. For we only know what these horrific monsters have taught. Fear. As the door slams open, I’m pried from my wife. I wonder if this will be the last moment I see her smile. My people are marked with terror and pain. I realized were barricaded in with barbed wire chains. My subverted clothes reek of secretion. This camp is untrustworthy, raising apprehension. They claim we are not human. But I ask, do we not bleed, when we are injured? Do we not dream blissful thoughts? Do we not pray to the same God? The same God that punishes the innocent; Bringing blithe to those sinners that shed blood. When we lose our cherished, our loved ones, Do we not shed tears? Do we not mourn? No! We must not, for we are not human, According to what the Nazis see. We are the innocent, robbed of life. They are the monsters who roam free. At least, that’s what I see. I see men, women, and children stripped of clothing, Stripped of dignity, stripped of all things humane. While these barbaric monstrosities make allegations. Claiming they are purifying society, when they are to blame. Men lose wives; children lose mothers. Families are torn apart; sisters lose brothers. Those of us who survive, work until brittle. Still we carry on, if our minds are able. Backs of men are scarred from arduous lashes. While the sick are trapped in rooms imbued with gases. My hands are enveloped with calicoes and cuts. My mind grows weary, I dream an ending abrupt. I’m crippled with anger, and tears that still drip sore. My heart crescendos with pain, about to implode. It’s difficult to refuse the tears when I hear the desolate screams. I’m trapped in a perpetual nightmare, a ceaseless dream. Still I carry on in life, for that is the greatest revenge. The day we feel the kiss of freedom, will be the day we have avenged.
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Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
Forgotten Horrors of the 19th Century
Perspiration accumulates into salty beads, Falling into her eyes, eyes that have lost their gleam. We’ve been trapped like savaged animals for three agonizing nights. Diminutive apertures in this death box supply minimal light. The screech of the rails are a bittersweet melody to our ears. For we only know what these horrific monsters have taught. Fear. As the door slams open, I’m pried from my wife. I wonder if this will be the last moment I see her smile. My people are marked with terror and pain. I realized were barricaded in with barbed wire chains. My subverted clothes reek of secretion. This camp is untrustworthy, raising apprehension. They claim we are not human. But I ask, do we not bleed, when we are injured? Do we not dream blissful thoughts? Do we not pray to the same God? The same God that punishes the innocent; Bringing blithe to those sinners that shed blood. When we lose our cherished, our loved ones, Do we not shed tears? Do we not mourn? No! We must not, for we are not human, According to what the Nazis see. We are the innocent, robbed of life. They are the monsters who roam free. At least, that’s what I see. I see men, women, and children stripped of clothing, Stripped of dignity, stripped of all things humane. While these barbaric monstrosities make allegations. Claiming they are purifying society, when they are to blame. Men lose wives; children lose mothers. Families are torn apart; sisters lose brothers. Those of us who survive, work until brittle. Still we carry on, if our minds are able. Backs of men are scarred from arduous lashes. While the sick are trapped in rooms imbued with gases. My hands are enveloped with calicoes and cuts. My mind grows weary, I dream an ending abrupt. I’m crippled with anger, and tears that still drip sore. My heart crescendos with pain, about to implode. It’s difficult to refuse the tears when I hear the desolate screams. I’m trapped in a perpetual nightmare, a ceaseless dream. Still I carry on in life, for that is the greatest revenge. The day we feel the kiss of freedom, will be the day we have avenged.
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43
When my height is matched only by my age,the sage told me, 'that I will have found an ecstasy so rare,that no one will ever, have ever been there. I count the rings as if I am a tree but ecstasy eludes me, as I knew it would. I could have counted grains of sand and after,started on the rice or carved upon a cuckoos egg,something very nice,just to let the cuckoo know,that we know why she builds no nest. I have festered long enough and boiled up in the glare of a staring midday sun,it's time and time has just begun to interest me, never mind the ecstasy, that will come as surely as the night begets the day,one day my day will arrive in all its splendour. This is the agenda that I look towards the sky and pray for, a gender difference in her magnificence and I would bow before this maiden,laden as I am with all these wantings in my head. I read once in a book, that all it took was just a look and then we're trapped,wrapped inside her spider web,carried off and eaten in her silken bed,but I would like to try it anyway,come what may my day will run before the settings of another sun and I will taste that which is fun or I will die, in contempt and contemptuous of my inconsistency,I allude again to my search for ecstasy and is it that my eyes or indeed my body fail me,when she hails me from her sanctuary? and I see only what I want to see, something that the sage had been careful not to tell me, fruitless. On the tree of evolution, I am just some insects ignorant secretion and as I wait for some predetermined 'who dares wins'completion I count again the rings.
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Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 8:21 AM UTC
Talking to scorpions
When my height is matched only by my age,the sage told me, 'that I will have found an ecstasy so rare,that no one will ever, have ever been there. I count the rings as if I am a tree but ecstasy eludes me, as I knew it would. I could have counted grains of sand and after,started on the rice or carved upon a cuckoos egg,something very nice,just to let the cuckoo know,that we know why she builds no nest. I have festered long enough and boiled up in the glare of a staring midday sun,it's time and time has just begun to interest me, never mind the ecstasy, that will come as surely as the night begets the day,one day my day will arrive in all its splendour. This is the agenda that I look towards the sky and pray for, a gender difference in her magnificence and I would bow before this maiden,laden as I am with all these wantings in my head. I read once in a book, that all it took was just a look and then we're trapped,wrapped inside her spider web,carried off and eaten in her silken bed,but I would like to try it anyway,come what may my day will run before the settings of another sun and I will taste that which is fun or I will die, in contempt and contemptuous of my inconsistency,I allude again to my search for ecstasy and is it that my eyes or indeed my body fail me,when she hails me from her sanctuary? and I see only what I want to see, something that the sage had been careful not to tell me, fruitless. On the tree of evolution, I am just some insects ignorant secretion and as I wait for some predetermined 'who dares wins'completion I count again the rings.
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16
Just what do we know about Ward Churchill? That radical agitator, That Colorado college professor Most famous for calling Twin Tower 9/11 dead technocrats Little Eichmanns. Noteworthy is the fact that The United States Supreme Court Denied certiorari, Passed on hearing his claim of Unlawful discharge. Unlawful discharge? Sounds felonious and vile: Like pus laced with ***** A criminal secretion, like mucus Smuggled past Customs: Vaginal contraband. Sorry, Ward. We just don’t give a **** Your fake Indian pedigree, Your bogus Vietnam fairytales, Your phony combat record, Your forward ops recon Way out in ******* Cambodia, Fall flat like Buffalo turds. You’ve been slick, Ward. Hired originally to fill Some gratuitous affirmative action quota, Denied tenure in two legitimate departments, You create some ******** academic discipline For campus freaks & geeks. Self-appointed Department Chairman, A fraudulent college professor from the start, Once tenured, a courageous warrior for free speech. Describing Native American history as genocide. Summing up American history as Holocaust denial. Professor Churchill was all of these things, And less. But using the Holocaust metaphor To anchor one’s fakakta politics? That was the proverbial last straw, The camel buster, if you will. Especially since most of the Stockbrokers & market analysts Crushed in the rubble were Jewish. Hava Nagila, Babaloo!
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Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 9:45 PM UTC
"Ward Churchill's Little Eichmanns"
A crisp, A crasp, A lisp, At last! We ride in parallel order, Eyes blindfolded and doused, Tied to the bed, Moved to the couch, A stream of feminine secretion!!! Western and eastern nutrition's, Two separate juices made high dollar wine!!!! A show divine!!
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May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 7:49 PM UTC
crispy craspy
This life aint' love song whilst i march on blindly.... Each secretion of dissections interrogations are on... on my LIVING soul man , if only you knew , i slip like a hidden seamstress into the alcoves of plenty, the catacomb of mind and sit and wait untill the seductress is ready - her lesions are lessons learnt in TIME she is the mistress of the dark she needs no title but if you prefer you can call her Q. this is because , yes , not only is she an insane nerd she is also - the softest heart i ever ( dang ) - had the chance to grace , Mother for those in need , Brother to those indeed Lover to the oh so lucky few , Who she might like to point out, are just as glaringly brilliant too... so , it's simple. The layers of time are VERY FLEXIBLE we need not notion , to the motions at futures unclear - well but see glimpses .. - of , past's rejuvenation's born again into different actions conclusions ..0... the butterfly effect are the ripples : figment metaphor ( metaphysicians apply inside) of wings - we are all ANGELS of a sort... but i like to call angels = experts they seem to know what's what...
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Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 6:54 AM UTC
OF SORTS..
Your existence has recited to me the working book of oracles, Of the constellations immersed in Ablaze triumph within the cosmos. You have shown me the nebulae Through the windows of your cruel chest. Your tongue reads the scriptures Of the silent black waters, Sacred black holes. You have left a voice inside of my metal core that brings my stiff cage of bones to a tremble. You have generously rained your tears Into my soils that have Awakened this pathetic drought. You have thoughtfully plucked your delicate pedals to exalt My ancient rib cage. You are the queen of creatures in my unstable lands. Between birth and death lies the intricate manifestation of our rituals. I ask for permission to conceive you into my womb. I want to feel our cultivating roots secure as one, Into two breathing forms. Let me give birth to you so that I may know you from the inside out- in the literal sense. Bring me to the threshold of suffering labor, So that we may share pure adoration . Let me adorn you with my secretion and madness And finally when I sway you in my arms, Sing to me the poem of your being I plant kisses of peach blossom upon your eyelids. Speak to me the language of the flowers By which you are a native. In between lost lovers Rests our hearts. Names and words patterned into our wrists. We lay like dead corpses With awaken minds. Our lights roam Each to a galaxy Given to me by your ***** We await dawn To dance with the demons Welcoming The fire fusing element That sustains the very madness of my being. I will cast you down with the sun lights And dance around you like an ablaze frenzy Presenting a newborn still to life. -Arizona
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Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 8:48 AM UTC
A Holy Kind of Love
Your existence has recited to me the working book of oracles, Of the constellations immersed in Ablaze triumph within the cosmos. You have shown me the nebulae Through the windows of your cruel chest. Your tongue reads the scriptures Of the silent black waters, Sacred black holes. You have left a voice inside of my metal core that brings my stiff cage of bones to a tremble. You have generously rained your tears Into my soils that have Awakened this pathetic drought. You have thoughtfully plucked your delicate pedals to exalt My ancient rib cage. You are the queen of creatures in my unstable lands. Between birth and death lies the intricate manifestation of our rituals. I ask for permission to conceive you into my womb. I want to feel our cultivating roots secure as one, Into two breathing forms. Let me give birth to you so that I may know you from the inside out- in the literal sense. Bring me to the threshold of suffering labor, So that we may share pure adoration . Let me adorn you with my secretion and madness And finally when I sway you in my arms, Sing to me the poem of your being I plant kisses of peach blossom upon your eyelids. Speak to me the language of the flowers By which you are a native. In between lost lovers Rests our hearts. Names and words patterned into our wrists. We lay like dead corpses With awaken minds. Our lights roam Each to a galaxy Given to me by your ***** We await dawn To dance with the demons Welcoming The fire fusing element That sustains the very madness of my being. I will cast you down with the sun lights And dance around you like an ablaze frenzy Presenting a newborn still to life. -Arizona
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58
I breathe you in The sensation of your love creeped out of my veins and into the fog Creating a whirlpool of secretion I cleared a path The fog hissed Never leave me Your breath begins to trace my neck I am escaping as fast as I can, through the faded night sky. I breathe you in and out The fog is taking over my lungs All I can think about was eyes How always turned grey as soon as I said goodbye Your lips stayed sealed as I reached out for your embrace In the fullness of time I found a clear path out of the fog and into the light "I should've left you years ago" I breathe you out.
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Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 8:42 PM UTC
Learning To Breathe On My Own
**** sapien* fluid secretion from fountains    under       my          tongue escape when I talk fumble over words pool in the cup by my bottom teeth    lower lip **** and when I spit all of my secrets     those I promised desertification occurs i am rock    knock with bone dry come and pick me, cotton picker the seeds of my ignorant youth    will       stab          at the             hands    slaver is hurt saliva
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Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 5:13 PM UTC
**** sapien
Diagonal insertion of myself into this room we call the present moment its never gonna go to collections baby, obviously checked it in for a week we found static in the interruption caused by your radio towers and traps and what you say, is not true- i see whose driving the hearse, shotgun appeal to the old me. satisfy my hungering for those other things please and tho i told you not to bother to call her, you did and just to say you did don't blame you because you are a good time, perforated into tiny fragments its not legal but this pedestal fits me like a glove, too much for the initiation but our doubts, are all left in yesterday. how i follow you home after ever show come help me hack off the vines and roots after every night of this spilling myself skips on the record, please don't forget me, i won't forget you, how could i youre just a missed cherry ash falling on my leg, burning me holes through saying what you want to say, sorry that i don't reply, see me in the morning shuddering on my favorite words, while screaming death to the secretion ! first we go spinning out then go smashing painted stained glass !
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Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 8:23 AM UTC
Missing the beat of the acrobatic tenement
Carcass ****** carcass Was this by my hands alone? I can feel my gums peeling apart And the secretion growing ever fiercer Maybe it’ll happen when I’m in a peaceful slumber The hairs on my arm won’t even prickle up to warn me It’ll be as abrupt as Deaths Abruption I’m not trying to be witty anymore I’ll look into his cold grey eyes And find nothing but white blankets of snow Where no soul has ever walked I won’t be the first No I’ll just sit and remember My belief in what was tangible Sprit breaks apart At first Fierce like a Chinese dragon Only to scamper away Scared Like a small bunny rabbit Don’t take pity **** me before I find myself comfortable White picket fences won’t be able to contain my restless body I’ll find myself leaping through every canyon’s crevice I can find Or I’ll pass my time against Anytown’s alleyway walls Bottle after bottle Empty and obtuse Resting diagonally against my pretzel stick legs No I won’t give a **** I’ll probably never love any human soul I’m stumbling and spiraling and laughing and cursing And through my kaleidoscope all I see is my own empty void Black and eerie and foreboding Coming to aid my crucifixion Love Love Love Love I found it in the sewers Where rats die and **** and **** flow seamlessly
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Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 1:02 PM UTC
Read this at my funeral
blood boiling causes chills along my back hairs rise along lanky arms skin pale, eyes swollen and red eyebrows furrowed, permanent expressions of hate and anger create wrinkles matching the set dad has he's blind to the fact he's creating them on his little girl pain is associated with the secretion of substance P, and is relieved by the secretion of endorphins anger is associated to the spewing of your words and the sternness of authoritarian disciplines, and is relieved in a year, with college dorms and distance of 453 miles or relieved in an instant by running away
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Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 10:28 AM UTC
boiled
Don’t breathe too hard, the air might infect your numbed gaping mouth, sneak in some fleshy cavity and die, the stink emitting deathly bile that seeps through gauze, onto tongue, down throat, tormenting tastebuds, filling cheeks with sick rot until some frightening tool, some cold industrial instrument, comes along to rip the defective suture from your gums, relieving your jaw of its ache, your mouth of its stench. And blood— sweet warm living blood— replaces vile secretion, and the crusted yellow stitch lies there alone on a steel table.
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Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 10:55 PM UTC
Wisdom Lost
Spanish puckers Peck mine European cheeks Maketh me melt Pull me down between thy belt Maketh me lick Until thy secretion overleaks Until thy bones go weak Until thy moan speaks In amour' language Let me ride to thine advantage As thou shalt maketh me keep going Until we both beg in mercy Handcuffs A blind fold tease Please let me seeith Thy eyes Roll To heavens perfection!! As thou shalt burst Once, twice, a third And over again!!
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Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 9:46 PM UTC
Cinnamon kiss, spanish licks, inch by inch!!!
When I feel alone Emptiness hovers around Till I loose all my doubts Mysteries, emerge around Alone is not always dark I still have my secrets To remember, to allude Put it in the light of truth And secrets are kept from many Its lonely appreciation Its special connotation A companion, never mentioned Secrets, secret secretion If I would tell a secret To one's soul It's like stealing my own
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Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 3:04 PM UTC
Lonely Secrecy
my heart punctured as a foot by broken glass i reek of dried *** and my own rotting flesh the scales of mother's womb cool the flaming mold ***** needles filled with rat's **** picking my fresh scabs from lit cigarettes and pencil sharpeners my tongue blackened from ink and tobacco i taste the fungal poison which comes with death and i sleep in my bed of satin and rusty nails while tomorrow fills my nightmares i awake in a puddle of secretion and sweat breathing death into my lungs as if welcoming an old friend one last time
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Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 4:52 PM UTC
cerebral torture chamber
Precise incision Secretion of vena sera Immortalising the hideous actions Of my adolescence.
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Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 12:46 PM UTC
Vena Sera
You will get lost in the big city you WILL, too hard, you WON'T, too much the secret to a long life is keep breathing and a pulse pounding you will seek riches and find pity you will find a garden of riches yet turn it too mulch you will marry an attentive spouse if you don't mind the hounding the secrets of the moment are lost in the blink of both eyes, the secret of receiving is an open palm if you touch the swollen belly of a bull, and you find ardor you can find beauty everywhere do not despise the disguise a secret a flock of birds leaves behind is calm ( bird **** is a secretion not a secret) the secret to great wealth is found offshore you will go places reading without, leaving your seat
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Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 1:00 AM UTC
Thirteen Dire Fortunes in Need of A Cookie
Your friendship feeds the fire Because you're my entire You're my whole completion But I have a worry secretion You'll use a companion deletion When we're having fun You and I are one I feel extremely close to you For you teach me the value of two But you begin to lose me At the introduction of three Jealousy piles on more Once you reach four And so on and so on Until I'm all gone The fire we've built together is too great I fear the day You are burnt by the friendly fire The pain brings you to your senses And you notice the extent of my wildfire Having no semblance of control It must be extinguished Because by this point It's all I can see Part of my family tree A fire that burns so bright It protects me from night But the fire was so red It travelled to my head You see how that went With me pitching a tent To hide in solitude From the steam that rises When fires must be put out
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Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 5:52 AM UTC
Fire
Accretion,                      Tis I seek! Permission,                      Of ones love to keep! Partition,                      I gaze for none! Secretion,                      Of child play fun! Direction,                      To giveth me her hand! Completion,                       A wedded band! Ommision,                        I want none more! Suspition,                        Please close thy store! Assumption's,                        I enquireth zilch! Corruption,                        Sleeps with filth! Attention,                        Wrap me as waddling infant! Kitchen's,                        To cook a meal of terrace's far and distant! Affectation,                        Of two fallen cherub's! Alleviation,                        Of the bug's and scarab's! Abstraction,                        I paint as a picture, Benedictions,                        Of one pellet, two triggers! Complications,                        Of breathing do I feel, Irrigations,                        Another deathly pill! Saturation,                        Man made queens to beasts! Irritation,                        Where art thou? Queen of settled feast? Obliteration,                        I lurk the high hilled tops! Incarceration,                         Where ghoul's meet thy cops! Palliation,                         To make sensual love in darker nights, Excruciation,                         Where art thou light? ***********                         Of kings and consort souls, Acceptation,                         Wilt thou come mine love?
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May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC
di-gwsg yn byth mwy (Sleepless in nevermore) old welsh dialect!!!
Accretion,                      Tis I seek! Permission,                      Of ones love to keep! Partition,                      I gaze for none! Secretion,                      Of child play fun! Direction,                      To giveth me her hand! Completion,                       A wedded band! Ommision,                        I want none more! Suspition,                        Please close thy store! Assumption's,                        I enquireth zilch! Corruption,                        Sleeps with filth! Attention,                        Wrap me as waddling infant! Kitchen's,                        To cook a meal of terrace's far and distant! Affectation,                        Of two fallen cherub's! Alleviation,                        Of the bug's and scarab's! Abstraction,                        I paint as a picture, Benedictions,                        Of one pellet, two triggers! Complications,                        Of breathing do I feel, Irrigations,                        Another deathly pill! Saturation,                        Man made queens to beasts! Irritation,                        Where art thou? Queen of settled feast? Obliteration,                        I lurk the high hilled tops! Incarceration,                         Where ghoul's meet thy cops! Palliation,                         To make sensual love in darker nights, Excruciation,                         Where art thou light? ***********                         Of kings and consort souls, Acceptation,                         Wilt thou come mine love?
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52
Exposed to a god-sent beauty derived from the meadows of perfection. I revealed every crude and hidden intention like a naked man in Winter’s rain. Does she not see the shine in my eye when in my imagination she glides by? In that moment only, am I able to forge us together. Without reason, I am stored away and forgotten… It is the secretion that falls from the dark sky that enchants me to lust for her on my knees. She now controls my conscience and what is left of my heart. Does she deserve this? My sweetest disposition towards her. It is beautiful how she crusaded through my soul without her own prior knowledge and intention…
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Sep 17, 2010
Sep 17, 2010 at 12:08 PM UTC
Exposed