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"soft" poems
A free bird leaps on the back Of the wind and floats downstream Till the current ends and dips his wing In the orange suns rays And dares to claim the sky. But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage Can seldom see through his bars of rage His wings are clipped and his feet are tied So he opens his throat to sing. The caged bird sings with a fearful trill Of things unknown but longed for still And his tune is heard on the distant hill for The caged bird sings of freedom. The free bird thinks of another breeze And the trade winds soft through The sighing trees And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright Lawn and he names the sky his own. But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream His wings are clipped and his feet are tied So he opens his throat to sing. The caged bird sings with A fearful trill of things unknown But longed for still and his Tune is heard on the distant hill For the caged bird sings of freedom.
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207k
I know why the caged bird sings
And I just want to feel your breath On my neck And your ******* On my chest And I just want to feel your lips On my cheek Telling me I’ll be okay When I’m feeling awfully weak And I just want to see your eyes Meeting mine Soft orbs of blue Too mature for your time And I just want to hear your voice Whispering softly in my ear Be here with me Be near I can’t handle this distance Not only of miles, but of mind I never could catch you But god how long I tried.
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Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 12:42 AM UTC
Wants
Brighter than the blinding flares of the sun, shimmering outward with power of thousands of stars yet comforting yet soft. Filled with oceans crashing and wild, turning over ships, rushing under a powerful storm. yet still yet calm. Filled with wonder and curiosity, yearning for the unknown, desperate for enlightenment yet wise yet content. Eyes so wide, so deep, filled with delicate roses, the power of mighty warriors, elegant as the flowing dress of Venus, filled with souls of thousands, with passion, with yearning, with desire. Filled with beauty Filled with you.
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Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 4:05 AM UTC
the universe in your eyes
I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm, your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm, yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new, in city and in forest they smiled like me and you, but now it's come to distances and both of us must try, your eyes are soft with sorrow, Hey, that's no way to say goodbye. I'm not looking for another as I wander in my time, walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme you know my love goes with you as your love stays with me, it's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea, but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie, your eyes are soft with sorrow, Hey, that's no way to say goodbye. I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm, your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm, yes many loved before us, I know that we are not new, in city and in forest they smiled like me and you, but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie, your eyes are soft with sorrow, Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.
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155.6k
Hey, That's No Way To Say Goodbye
I too... wake up sometimes longing to touch you to taste tease tempt and excite you I want to wake you up with soft lingering kisses and tender rhythmic touches I want to slide my tongue deeply within you playfully persistent until your back arches and your breath catches I want your spirit to soar... before your eyes are even open I want to give to you the passion joy and love that you have hungered for... I want you to begin each day... fulfilled.
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Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 1:08 AM UTC
Fulfilled...
Shake dreams from your hair My pretty child, my sweet one. Choose the day and choose the sign of your day The day’s divinity First thing you see. A vast radiant beach in a cool jeweled moon Couples naked race down by it’s quiet side And we laugh like soft, mad children Smug in the woolly cotton brains of infancy The music and voices are all around us. Choose, they croon, the Ancient Ones The time has come again Choose now, they croon, Beneath the moon Beside an ancient lake Enter again the sweet forest Enter the hot dream Come with us Everything is broken up and dances.
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86k
Awake
199 I’m “wife”—I’ve finished that— That other state— I’m Czar—I’m “Woman” now— It’s safer so— How odd the Girl’s life looks Behind this soft Eclipse— I think that Earth feels so To folks in Heaven—now— This being comfort—then That other kind—was pain— But why compare? I’m “Wife”! Stop there!
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79k
I’m “wife”—I’ve finished that
Let me slide my velvet tongue up and down the insides of your milky way until I find my path that leads the way to yours heavens bet you moan the whole way One soft touch and your ambisions slipe away your body trembles as my fingers play; high notes, low on your body silent screams slowly slip away our bodies press their luck like human nature, its in our nature, to play that way. Our bodies colliding deep inside, I'm subsiding my hips bucking, yours riding mine, my fantasy you and me in Ecstasy.
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Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 11:11 PM UTC
Ecstasy
I'll see what I can make out of the leftovers I have. Although, it's never too long until the milk turns bad, until a love turns sour in an online second; since, an online minute wastes a real-life hour. But in a snap-shot moment, I can find life for weeks on my stash of sugar truths, until I forget to eat; forget to breathe; 'til I don't even need to sleep because the lovehearts on my photos sing such soft melodies. And despite the fact that often I can't sit at ease, somehow this perfect madness always tastes so bittersweet.
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Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 11:06 AM UTC
A recipe for disaster
I...I love you. That is the only way i can dis scribe this, i love it when you kiss me, your lips are soft, and gentle, no ones kissed my like this before. you say you love me, and my heart roars, its a gushing volcano of hot lava. you touch, plants gardens. your eyes, big, beautiful, Russet , orbs, i cant look away. the way you look at me, speaks a language, without words. You are Virgo , and i a Gemini. you are kind. and loving. i cant let you out of my head. BOOM you broke my heart. the way you kissed me was terrible the volcano is inactive the garden is a decay of mold, chopped trees, and weeds your eyes are the color of **** and now everything is silent. I can't believe i let you in. at least i didn't give you anything important. its just a heart nothing special.
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Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 10:27 PM UTC
I can't.
Sitting in some car in a forgotten parking lot Grey marks the skies Lush green plants peeping in The wildlife of concrete and paint makes the perfect background For Little ***** of liquid heaven falling on my windscreen And some music to complete the scene Each guitar line synchronises with each raindrop Each blast of power thunder hits hard like heavy metal But the soft clouds, the gentle ebb and flow lull me to sleep Whispering, persuading me to dream But I really don't want to miss this shard of time I never want to lose little moments like these A silver raindrop is born by landing on my car Crash landing, rather The bubbling pocket of mystery travels down Swerving and slamming into other fellow pockets in crime It's life cycle completes when it reaches the bottom It races to it's death, unable to stop gravity's plan for it Each drop morphs into another, making a wave The rain weaves an intricate web of waves All strutting their sparkly magic before me I sense a metaphor for humanity creeping in Millions of crescendos growing about Too concerned with their internal politics to worry about others But I stay focused on the beauty all around I wonder if heaven has rainy days If so, this must be one of them
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Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 12:28 PM UTC
That Rain Poem
Can I come to you as I am, in secret- brimming with the need to be held? Can I lay hot whispers on your skin then taste how they make you feel? Can I show you how to touch me, how hard to press? If I cry can I hide salty tears in the soft curve of your neck? Can I bite, ever so gently, before I scream? Can I be your lover, without you loving me? Can I, please?
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Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 11:22 PM UTC
Please?
There were dividing lines between Springfield and Mariners Gate soft, subtle lines that spoke of origin and code and biting union it was all the reason for being; alive and living dead or dying deep in a pack of pint size resistors hell bent on the marsh crow and cannabis tower jumping the rush with *** shots and anchors and tribunals camouflage creepers and transient floaters marked rebellion at the gates (skullduggery and taunt high on their favor list) jack straws and flat paddles for the evening charade beakers and flailing hands from the foot washing baptist (the Pleasant Street conservatives with their own something to say…“there’s gonna be hell to pay!”) there's a lingering effect to this sentiment (evident in the pump house stride) the river winds blow gently into the night as the huddling packers and **** backs chase the evening hours it’s a bitter sweet end of an era; those traction bars hood scoops and nickel bags will always be the rage
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Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 11:13 PM UTC
Blood lines
“please be naked” she stands in her doorway wearing just a gown, I walk in the house, dumbstruck by beauty, up in her room undoing the bow, the shield simply slides down caressing her curves, stroking down to the floor, intertwined bodies craving the touch of the other, joined as one in the gentle acts of love and lust, romanticised ideals of perfection and soft rhythm, delicate groans as two become one, the broken poet, for the moment, is gone, my drug addiction of you, just wanting more, As my heart bleeds, love begins to pour. “please be naked”.
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Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 8:29 AM UTC
please be naked
Seductive wayward hands Like silk, soft to the touch Travel down her lustrous skin Southbound too their destination Lips, neck combine in passion Warm breath on the neck Turns into sultry slow kisses She grips his hair tightly Her soft moans reverberate in his ear As his fingers glisten with her lust
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Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 12:24 AM UTC
Wandering hands
I'd like to think that she's thinking: "How far have I fallen?" As she sits on the corner of her bed, Listening to the soft buzz of his battery-powered toothbrush. I imagine her, Running her fingers through her clumsy, coagulated hair. Glancing at her chipped, crimson toe nails, Then looking to her class ring, Made entirely of imitation ingredients, Wondering when is the proper time to trash it. When she was still a friend of mine, I never saw her wear make up, I never saw her show off in tight jeans or low-cut tees. But as he spews the toothpaste into the sink, Skinny jeans lay tussled on the floor, Next to the side door that leads to his sister's side room. The make up she wears is from the night before. It's skewed and shows evidence of running, Like a wasted watercolor. I'd like to think he isn't that handsome, And that he's obsessed with Paul Walker. I'd like to think when he re-enters the room, He's in grey sweatpants, He's wearing a black tank top, With a Confederate flag backdrop, With two barely dressed babes looking ****** in the foreground. His hair, unwashed and greasy. He rubs his belly, And bears an idiot grin on his face. Looking like he just learned how to smile at this pace. "Did it feel good?" feel good. After he asks, he scans her body, Beginning at those crimson toes, And Ending at that clumsy hair. Every second he scans, He still wears that drawn-on Idiot grin. I'd like to think at this point she thinks of me. Of my warnings and prophesy. Her eyes start at the chipped toe nails, Course over her tanning bed-inspired legs. And finally reach the only thing she has on, A t-shirt that belongs to his sister. A t-shirt, when given by him, It was mentioned, "thanks, mister". Though she didn't satisfy all his redneck intentions, During last night's expedition. He still paid her back with a morning one-sided session. "It felt good" she says. In reference to the ten minute ********** When her body was strummed and plucked, Underneath his sister's Terri Clark T-shirt. As she sits in the filth and the ****** fallout, On a bed that is six days ***** While he is grinning, Being everything but wordy. I'd like to think she's thinking: "How far have I fallen?"
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Jun 4, 2010
Jun 4, 2010 at 10:31 PM UTC
She was a Friend of Mine
I'd like to think that she's thinking: "How far have I fallen?" As she sits on the corner of her bed, Listening to the soft buzz of his battery-powered toothbrush. I imagine her, Running her fingers through her clumsy, coagulated hair. Glancing at her chipped, crimson toe nails, Then looking to her class ring, Made entirely of imitation ingredients, Wondering when is the proper time to trash it. When she was still a friend of mine, I never saw her wear make up, I never saw her show off in tight jeans or low-cut tees. But as he spews the toothpaste into the sink, Skinny jeans lay tussled on the floor, Next to the side door that leads to his sister's side room. The make up she wears is from the night before. It's skewed and shows evidence of running, Like a wasted watercolor. I'd like to think he isn't that handsome, And that he's obsessed with Paul Walker. I'd like to think when he re-enters the room, He's in grey sweatpants, He's wearing a black tank top, With a Confederate flag backdrop, With two barely dressed babes looking ****** in the foreground. His hair, unwashed and greasy. He rubs his belly, And bears an idiot grin on his face. Looking like he just learned how to smile at this pace. "Did it feel good?" feel good. After he asks, he scans her body, Beginning at those crimson toes, And Ending at that clumsy hair. Every second he scans, He still wears that drawn-on Idiot grin. I'd like to think at this point she thinks of me. Of my warnings and prophesy. Her eyes start at the chipped toe nails, Course over her tanning bed-inspired legs. And finally reach the only thing she has on, A t-shirt that belongs to his sister. A t-shirt, when given by him, It was mentioned, "thanks, mister". Though she didn't satisfy all his redneck intentions, During last night's expedition. He still paid her back with a morning one-sided session. "It felt good" she says. In reference to the ten minute ********** When her body was strummed and plucked, Underneath his sister's Terri Clark T-shirt. As she sits in the filth and the ****** fallout, On a bed that is six days ***** While he is grinning, Being everything but wordy. I'd like to think she's thinking: "How far have I fallen?"
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66
can not be found in the flesh For as warm it may be As soft to your fingers it is It will lay soft and cold eventually can not be found in gold Yes, it never loses its luster But many coins you need to muster And no number will fill the gap in your soul can not be found in others For the laughs may distract The facade will crack And still you will be empty inside ilusive as it may be It follows you around It never left For within you she rest Waiting to be awoken And while the rest might feel great They serve as nothing but crutches On your own you must stand If you are to revel On the pleasures life offers... To improve one self To look on path troded It´s essence To know there is more With hunger jump forth It´s rushes To balance the mind With the desire of the heart It´s key And once held in hand You will understand That happiness flies like a bird But behind she left Tranquility And the knowledge That you can get it again...
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Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 12:03 AM UTC
Happiness,
The lull of a restless night relieves my senses It's monotone silence maintains my breath The cold night breeze enters through an open window It whispers soft tunes and attempts to put me to sleep The humming of an exhausted laptop helps me decompress It distracts me from overthinking and blocks out my stress As the night goes on it starts to rain It comforts my senses and cleanses my pain This time-worn house cracks and creaks It talks of troubled times and how it came to be This place I call home proves i’m never alone And it's always there to support me
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Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 9:25 AM UTC
The Sounds of Midnight
Do not stand at my grave and weep.. I am not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awake in the morning's hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft star-shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry.. I am not there. I did not die.
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45.3k
Do not stand at my grave and weep
Be kind to yourself, as you are with others You have these grand expectations of yourself and at times, those around you It's good to have goals and a hunger for betterment, but you must also be vigilant to keep them realistic Because, while you are indeed fierce & strong-willed, you are also soft & at times fragile You are human. But that doesn't mean you are without superpowers Your sensitivity is your greatest gift, but without care, can also be your greatest downfall You must learn to master your craft. This means to be patient with yourself as you would with others, to show compassion as you would with others, to show love, grace, & humility, to yourself This in practice, is to truly understand, & epitomise, that self-care is not selfish That it is okay to say no, or to ask for help, or to be truly vulnerable To acknowledge that fear is the root cause of bitterness & resentment To embrace the lows, for making the highs even sweeter To let the good wash over you the same as the bad, & embrace the micro changes, as the meta stays the same To believe you are worthy, of a great love, the same as you believe another's worthy of yours To embody the idiom that one can only truly love another, after they learn to love themself, & thus allowing the hard-earned victory of grounded, stable communion To know the difference between support & advice, love & lust, friendships & partnerships To have faith that you will find your way, because you will; because you live your life with generosity & authenticity This is my vision for you, that you will make this your reality.
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Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 2:18 PM UTC
Dear Self,
Be kind to yourself, as you are with others You have these grand expectations of yourself and at times, those around you It's good to have goals and a hunger for betterment, but you must also be vigilant to keep them realistic Because, while you are indeed fierce & strong-willed, you are also soft & at times fragile You are human. But that doesn't mean you are without superpowers Your sensitivity is your greatest gift, but without care, can also be your greatest downfall You must learn to master your craft. This means to be patient with yourself as you would with others, to show compassion as you would with others, to show love, grace, & humility, to yourself This in practice, is to truly understand, & epitomise, that self-care is not selfish That it is okay to say no, or to ask for help, or to be truly vulnerable To acknowledge that fear is the root cause of bitterness & resentment To embrace the lows, for making the highs even sweeter To let the good wash over you the same as the bad, & embrace the micro changes, as the meta stays the same To believe you are worthy, of a great love, the same as you believe another's worthy of yours To embody the idiom that one can only truly love another, after they learn to love themself, & thus allowing the hard-earned victory of grounded, stable communion To know the difference between support & advice, love & lust, friendships & partnerships To have faith that you will find your way, because you will; because you live your life with generosity & authenticity This is my vision for you, that you will make this your reality.
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96
I live in a forest of fallen sunflowers, old and wise, they speak to me of the days gone by When the sun sets among the wilderness blaze, they tell me night is befalling, and I must make my departure They tell of decades ago, how they’ve watched as humans lived their lives, most rotten in nature They spoke of the one that used to tend to them, how gracious and kind, how pure and warm For the sunflowers spoke with melancholy, for they knew that their former caretaker was well gone So for a moment they wept their tears of seeds, and sung soft melodies of their former caretaker They spoke to me and warned of the evils of humanity, how they were too once the victim of the evil They asked why humans destroyed what’s beautiful around them, why they wish to sabotage what keeps them breathing But they spoke to me and said I was a rare human, one that had good intention, and a sensitive heart As night began to fall, I left the forest of sunflowers, carrying their tearful seeds To spread as I walked away, to maybe rejoice and create life once more The forest I hope will remain tomorrow, that it stands the test of time
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May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 2:46 PM UTC
The Forest of Sunflowers
How do you do that? How can you make me smile with a simple act? From this moment, I begin to think But the way you make me feel is hard to explain You’re one of the many aspects that changed my life Coz’ you always make me happy And I want you to know, after all For the rest of it, that I’m very lucky You make me laugh, you make me smile You’re smart, you’re different that made my day to shine For all the nights that I shed tear I won’t worry anymore, for you- is finally here That summer cold times, I’m contented just being by your side All those feelings I just can’t hide You’re special to me And I hope you’re beginning to see I can’t describe how much I care But when you need me, I will ensure you that I’ll be there To wipe your tears when you’re sad To make you happy when you’re mad I never imagined how sweet this could be With emotion and desire that’s coming over me Now I’m trouble…. but in sweet, sweet trouble Because I could not happily escape this anymore I love the times when we chat and text And I don’t want to end those nights and wait for the next The things you do and no one else will do Results me on thinking of you When there is something in my mind Or weighs heavy in my heart You always seem to know what I want to say before I ever start You have your own special way Of making me feel valuable than I am What I want to say is You’re soft gentle smile, on me, truly understands I am truthfully fortunate my dear friend You have that personality to where I can learn You are in my dreams whether I’m awake or asleep While these emotions, for you, are going way too deep A best friend, to me, I gladly submit Giving my all, to you, I admit This feeling I feel for you is something totally new And I’m so glad, so so glad, that I met you.
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Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 8:04 AM UTC
I’m so glad, I met you
How do you do that? How can you make me smile with a simple act? From this moment, I begin to think But the way you make me feel is hard to explain You’re one of the many aspects that changed my life Coz’ you always make me happy And I want you to know, after all For the rest of it, that I’m very lucky You make me laugh, you make me smile You’re smart, you’re different that made my day to shine For all the nights that I shed tear I won’t worry anymore, for you- is finally here That summer cold times, I’m contented just being by your side All those feelings I just can’t hide You’re special to me And I hope you’re beginning to see I can’t describe how much I care But when you need me, I will ensure you that I’ll be there To wipe your tears when you’re sad To make you happy when you’re mad I never imagined how sweet this could be With emotion and desire that’s coming over me Now I’m trouble…. but in sweet, sweet trouble Because I could not happily escape this anymore I love the times when we chat and text And I don’t want to end those nights and wait for the next The things you do and no one else will do Results me on thinking of you When there is something in my mind Or weighs heavy in my heart You always seem to know what I want to say before I ever start You have your own special way Of making me feel valuable than I am What I want to say is You’re soft gentle smile, on me, truly understands I am truthfully fortunate my dear friend You have that personality to where I can learn You are in my dreams whether I’m awake or asleep While these emotions, for you, are going way too deep A best friend, to me, I gladly submit Giving my all, to you, I admit This feeling I feel for you is something totally new And I’m so glad, so so glad, that I met you.
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44
You will never know The peace of acceptance Once you are finished Put to earth Life was harsher than the dirt Parents made you feel worthless Cause you wanted to wear a short dress Because you felt different Cut off Disowned Disavowed One friend after another disappears And no one hears The sobs No one feels the salty tears No one holds your hands Or offers you a hug You were ****** By the those who demand You conform Where there was no  warmth The clock cuts you bitterly Condemning you to be lonely And I cry all the more Knowing you won’t be the only one Not the only daughter wanting to be a son Not the only male that wants to be female Not the only soft face harden Or hard face softened till the sorrow overflows Till everyone you know closes the door And you disappear forever more
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Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 7:05 AM UTC
To The Transgender Suicides
Some say love's a little boy, And some say it's a bird, Some say it makes the world go around, Some say that's absurd, And when I asked the man next-door, Who looked as if he knew, His wife got very cross indeed, And said it wouldn't do. Does it look like a pair of pyjamas, Or the ham in a temperance hotel? Does its odour remind one of llamas, Or has it a comforting smell? Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is, Or soft as eiderdown fluff? Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges? O tell me the truth about love. Our history books refer to it In cryptic little notes, It's quite a common topic on The Transatlantic boats; I've found the subject mentioned in Accounts of suicides, And even seen it scribbled on The backs of railway guides. Does it howl like a hungry Alsatian, Or boom like a military band? Could one give a first-rate imitation On a saw or a Steinway Grand? Is its singing at parties a riot? Does it only like Classical stuff? Will it stop when one wants to be quiet? O tell me the truth about love. I looked inside the summer-house; It wasn't over there; I tried the Thames at Maidenhead, And Brighton's bracing air. I don't know what the blackbird sang, Or what the tulip said; But it wasn't in the chicken-run, Or underneath the bed. Can it pull extraordinary faces? Is it usually sick on a swing? Does it spend all its time at the races, or fiddling with pieces of string? Has it views of its own about money? Does it think Patriotism enough? Are its stories ****** but funny? O tell me the truth about love. When it comes, will it come without warning Just as I'm picking my nose? Will it knock on my door in the morning, Or tread in the bus on my toes? Will it come like a change in the weather? Will its greeting be courteous or rough? Will it alter my life altogether? O tell me the truth about love.
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43.4k
O Tell Me The Truth About Love
Some say love's a little boy, And some say it's a bird, Some say it makes the world go around, Some say that's absurd, And when I asked the man next-door, Who looked as if he knew, His wife got very cross indeed, And said it wouldn't do. Does it look like a pair of pyjamas, Or the ham in a temperance hotel? Does its odour remind one of llamas, Or has it a comforting smell? Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is, Or soft as eiderdown fluff? Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges? O tell me the truth about love. Our history books refer to it In cryptic little notes, It's quite a common topic on The Transatlantic boats; I've found the subject mentioned in Accounts of suicides, And even seen it scribbled on The backs of railway guides. Does it howl like a hungry Alsatian, Or boom like a military band? Could one give a first-rate imitation On a saw or a Steinway Grand? Is its singing at parties a riot? Does it only like Classical stuff? Will it stop when one wants to be quiet? O tell me the truth about love. I looked inside the summer-house; It wasn't over there; I tried the Thames at Maidenhead, And Brighton's bracing air. I don't know what the blackbird sang, Or what the tulip said; But it wasn't in the chicken-run, Or underneath the bed. Can it pull extraordinary faces? Is it usually sick on a swing? Does it spend all its time at the races, or fiddling with pieces of string? Has it views of its own about money? Does it think Patriotism enough? Are its stories ****** but funny? O tell me the truth about love. When it comes, will it come without warning Just as I'm picking my nose? Will it knock on my door in the morning, Or tread in the bus on my toes? Will it come like a change in the weather? Will its greeting be courteous or rough? Will it alter my life altogether? O tell me the truth about love.
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56
The eyes of a supernova seeping into mine So harsh, so hot, but so soft, so loving Passionate but patient So much in so few It’s so warm Cheeky grins and burning desire taunt me So painful, so explosive but so comforting, so alluring Painstaking but playful Ablaze though we’re scared It’s extraordinary There’s no words to match this melodic image So sweaty, so intense but so quiet, so calm Dreamy but real Like a fantasy It’s blissful The sensation of fire melting to stardust Embrace it, taste it, love it, feel it Crafted and delicate Two stars colliding His pulsating heartbeat needs me My longing kiss needs him He’s my lover boy And I’m his It’s so warm
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Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 11:50 AM UTC
Lover Boy