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"stealth" poems
As the glorious LION Stands strong in stature Radiating with a presence Of Absolute rule The air washed with A bristly respect A natural pride Beams with  beauty He guards the gateway to truth and only the brave may enter He is the king that needs no crown as he holds a royal presence as he sits in his golden coat and main Lies spark combust just bounce off dissolve in all his shine. As broken men become renewed Their fractured parts Collect in the melting *** Of the Lion's  stare As they are engulfed and swallowed In the reservoirs of his strength As the many wounded souls Find themselves restored In his majestic presence As he rattles the very fabric Of this world There is no procrastinating belly Exposed by a lackluster display No one insults his strength By creating a make believe world Or covers him with scaffolding so That they may alter him For he is the finished article And he is never held up or supported With anyone's emotional ropes or strings For he no ones puppet He is never silenced By the Strangle hold of this world Tightened with a multitude of gestures For I hear his ROAR!!!!!!!! His explosive self expression As his throat bursts and beams like the sun Breaking all collars, and his tongue is freed As a thousand trap doors Open up in him   And boulders are lifted and rocks are shattered within the sound of his voice. His Soft pads of silent stealth Gather for all his wealth As the power of his pounce Is governed by both his strength Of spirit and the honesty With which he meets the earth For he owns all of his own pain And paces and growls to warn Away any who seek to steal his fresh **** And diminish him with pretty lies For he owns all his space As it feeds his strength As somewhere in the fury of feasting Lionesses and Lions   We find our freedom For his power explodes like a volcano When his soul meets the earth   As he shakes off all avoidance To seek only truth As streaks of white light And pure Gold glisten in the SUN As the world's projections Reflect and bounce off him There is so much to learn From a beautiful LION
0
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
LION
As the glorious LION Stands strong in stature Radiating with a presence Of Absolute rule The air washed with A bristly respect A natural pride Beams with  beauty He guards the gateway to truth and only the brave may enter He is the king that needs no crown as he holds a royal presence as he sits in his golden coat and main Lies spark combust just bounce off dissolve in all his shine. As broken men become renewed Their fractured parts Collect in the melting *** Of the Lion's  stare As they are engulfed and swallowed In the reservoirs of his strength As the many wounded souls Find themselves restored In his majestic presence As he rattles the very fabric Of this world There is no procrastinating belly Exposed by a lackluster display No one insults his strength By creating a make believe world Or covers him with scaffolding so That they may alter him For he is the finished article And he is never held up or supported With anyone's emotional ropes or strings For he no ones puppet He is never silenced By the Strangle hold of this world Tightened with a multitude of gestures For I hear his ROAR!!!!!!!! His explosive self expression As his throat bursts and beams like the sun Breaking all collars, and his tongue is freed As a thousand trap doors Open up in him   And boulders are lifted and rocks are shattered within the sound of his voice. His Soft pads of silent stealth Gather for all his wealth As the power of his pounce Is governed by both his strength Of spirit and the honesty With which he meets the earth For he owns all of his own pain And paces and growls to warn Away any who seek to steal his fresh **** And diminish him with pretty lies For he owns all his space As it feeds his strength As somewhere in the fury of feasting Lionesses and Lions   We find our freedom For his power explodes like a volcano When his soul meets the earth   As he shakes off all avoidance To seek only truth As streaks of white light And pure Gold glisten in the SUN As the world's projections Reflect and bounce off him There is so much to learn From a beautiful LION
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71
#*forgiveness not by epiphany or stealth but slow dawning through pain's night thorny ever-conscious struggle for love which suddenly breaks on wings of light*#
0
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 2:57 PM UTC
forgiveness
by rgpage face down she rests her naked form head turned from her lover's glance. eye's closed she lies and knowingly waits, (a) loving touch starts passion's dance. his huge hand moves across her back with strokes the touch of butterfly wings. upon her creamy skin so smooth its path now set toward splendered things. his pace a slow deliberate score her passion's breath he brings, from touch so soft, igniting sparks with love her breath now sings. his steady course she knows so well with every touch as if it's new. her sparks of passion love's embers light, love's embers loving hue. down past her rear with feathered touch just knowing where to go, behind her knees his fingers dance to passion's steady flow. their hips now in synchronic dance, love's voluntary ride, she feels his passion grown so hard, now pressed against her side. he cups her breast so gently as if it were a flower, its ****** earlier soft and small now hard with passion's power. and in her ***** great sparks erupt her soft and pleasured flesh. with juices flowing, desire's high to meet love's natural crush. now she turns to meet his lips her passion running high. with savage hunger she pulls him in her hunter now the prey. tables turned their urge well matched desire holds the pace. she takes control and guides his love with feminine stealth and grace. to places only she could know where sparks ignite small streaks of light, that illuminates her soul. together they fend love's tempting end to stay their lover's dance. to take control and reach their goal the essence of their romance.
0
Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 6:35 PM UTC
passion's dance
by rgpage face down she rests her naked form head turned from her lover's glance. eye's closed she lies and knowingly waits, (a) loving touch starts passion's dance. his huge hand moves across her back with strokes the touch of butterfly wings. upon her creamy skin so smooth its path now set toward splendered things. his pace a slow deliberate score her passion's breath he brings, from touch so soft, igniting sparks with love her breath now sings. his steady course she knows so well with every touch as if it's new. her sparks of passion love's embers light, love's embers loving hue. down past her rear with feathered touch just knowing where to go, behind her knees his fingers dance to passion's steady flow. their hips now in synchronic dance, love's voluntary ride, she feels his passion grown so hard, now pressed against her side. he cups her breast so gently as if it were a flower, its ****** earlier soft and small now hard with passion's power. and in her ***** great sparks erupt her soft and pleasured flesh. with juices flowing, desire's high to meet love's natural crush. now she turns to meet his lips her passion running high. with savage hunger she pulls him in her hunter now the prey. tables turned their urge well matched desire holds the pace. she takes control and guides his love with feminine stealth and grace. to places only she could know where sparks ignite small streaks of light, that illuminates her soul. together they fend love's tempting end to stay their lover's dance. to take control and reach their goal the essence of their romance.
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50
I search for some decor to pretty up my house A headboard, some dead boards or maybe a couch? The said so to do it on public TV my kitchens not pretty as pretty as can be But what will the neighbors think of my design? they'll report to the magazine that it's beautiful and sublime! Some ship lap, some sconces all wrapped in a bow i will trend till tomorrow then die all alone Rip it all down Says Chip and Joanna They are more popular Than Hanna Montanna They live on a ranch an take millions to make a spectacular suprise for a couple to take We all laugh an cheer at Chip's child like antics Which makes great TV as Joanna gets Frantic! Do Chip and Joanna really care about you? As long as the station gets ten million views They tell us to fix it even though it's not broken go shop till you drop and spend every token Buy that cool sign made from cheap yellow plastic The richer get richer but, our wall looks fantastic! Do not give in to the big corporate greed there are sick, hungry people and starving mouths to feed so every cent spent on the corporate wealth helps the richer get richer and we go to stealth Wake up and see vanity is causing distress don't give in to pressure of this corporate mess!
0
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 10:44 PM UTC
Hobby Lobbyist
Lightning Strikes 323 Norwegian Reindeer Hunters made the discovery, stealth and ***** dabbed anoraks all for nothing not to mention a critical downwind approach and camo blend that rendered Frode and Jørgen or Ove and Anders invisible against rock and lichen and cloudberry but offered little protection against thoughts sublime. Ove, perhaps, cursing God for poor sportsmanship, the divine equivalent of dynamiting fish, while Anders gave silent thanks to fortune, a freezer full of steaks.
0
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 8:03 AM UTC
Lightning Strikes 323 Norwegian Reindeer
We like to be in peace Lies disrupts the timeline of human beasts Sending you to decision making feats Making you think of an unchangeable decision Life is full of actions requiring a question Answers and choices Whichever path you choose might leave you exploited Everybody has a weakness, which might lead to stress Emotionless people take advantage of any weakness How a friend can save a life Your best friend can destroy your life Even though police are on the frontline Some can create the stealth crime Leaving so many people blinded with a fine Who is that voice we found solace to confide in
0
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 12:58 AM UTC
Who's That Voice
Hear the LION'S ROAR As the many indignant souls Find themselves restored In his majestic presence As he rattles the very fabric Of this world as many Broken men become renewed Their fractured parts Collect in the melting *** Of the Lions stare So let us all dare To live life like a Lion Lounging in the sun Owning and surveying His beautiful life Storing great forces Reservoirs of strength To pounce and punch Soft pads of silent stealth Gather for all his wealth His appetite strong He honors every parts of self But there is no where To hide in the cats eye stare As my many fumbling phoney selves Dissolve in his melting glare As I am shamed by a look As I approach life like a crook My procrastinating belly exposed In my lack luster display As I breath a contempt For my precious life Standing strong in stature And rich in golden shine Radiating with a presence Of Absolute rule The air washed with A bristly respect A natural pride Beams with a beauty Freed from all that is false His being effortlessly Embraces the fields Of his own nature As I am silenced by The strangle hold of this Bitter dysfunctional world Tightened by a Multitude of silent gestures I sit to listen To the LION'S ROAR I feel my throat burst My gagged tongue freed My choked throat Beams like the sun As I softly delve In to the LION'S ROAR An open infinity Cuts my many collars Releasing my self expression As a thousand trap doors Open in me Learning from the loving LION Our self expression freed And our appetite renewed We live a new adventure
0
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 5:13 PM UTC
THE LION'S ROAR
Hear the LION'S ROAR As the many indignant souls Find themselves restored In his majestic presence As he rattles the very fabric Of this world as many Broken men become renewed Their fractured parts Collect in the melting *** Of the Lions stare So let us all dare To live life like a Lion Lounging in the sun Owning and surveying His beautiful life Storing great forces Reservoirs of strength To pounce and punch Soft pads of silent stealth Gather for all his wealth His appetite strong He honors every parts of self But there is no where To hide in the cats eye stare As my many fumbling phoney selves Dissolve in his melting glare As I am shamed by a look As I approach life like a crook My procrastinating belly exposed In my lack luster display As I breath a contempt For my precious life Standing strong in stature And rich in golden shine Radiating with a presence Of Absolute rule The air washed with A bristly respect A natural pride Beams with a beauty Freed from all that is false His being effortlessly Embraces the fields Of his own nature As I am silenced by The strangle hold of this Bitter dysfunctional world Tightened by a Multitude of silent gestures I sit to listen To the LION'S ROAR I feel my throat burst My gagged tongue freed My choked throat Beams like the sun As I softly delve In to the LION'S ROAR An open infinity Cuts my many collars Releasing my self expression As a thousand trap doors Open in me Learning from the loving LION Our self expression freed And our appetite renewed We live a new adventure
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66
"And then taking from his wallet an old schedule of trains, he'll say I told you when I came I was a stranger I told you when I came I was a stranger."                                         --- Leonard Cohen I'm the most surprised person on the planet. Your coming to see me off at the airport has my mind scratching glass seeking words. Why is it that in this relationship, you seem to have gotten all the speaking parts? You're well aware that I have loved you for the better part of two years, bottling that emotion, afraid to pop the cork. Your eyes implore mine, rotating like a searchlight over Baghdad seeking the stealth laying carnage to your heart. Twice in the last week you've made it evident, the Grail was mine, but for the drinking --- That and finding a shorthand for adultry. I'm guilty courting the love of a married woman, made worse, you're here at my departure telling me we aren't free to choose who we love. I know my desire must die of thirst, so I turn, boarding pass in hand, the last words I ever hear from you, Write me! --- Thirty-five years later I have.
0
Jul 2, 2012
Jul 2, 2012 at 12:54 PM UTC
For Lana: Wherever This May Find Her
On the land molded by footsteps and ruled by obnoxiously bleached clowns, Visited by swarms of neighborhood guttersnipes and the opulent from uptown. Allured by the traditional Irish circus music and the grinding of rusted gears, To arrive at dawn and to leave only when the night sky is tired of fireworks and flares. Skittish and gleaming eyes would roll on the floor, struck by daze and lost in wonderment, At the marvel of giant steel rides and god forsaken and socially foretoken genetic mutants. The word of a woman with two faces and the boy with a tail would make any catholic priest run. Amusing the rational ones, alongside the man with elastic skin and the girl with the forked tongue. The opera lady with outlandish proportions and tumorous lips sings to break a piece of cheap glassware. Little do people know,that the magician’s red gloves are actually stained with blood of rabbit that disappeared. Their noses get caught in the medley of fragrances from the exotic perfumes shop, Blended with the saccharine tang from the stall that sells candy floss and soda pops. Indulging over the overly priced confectioneries at the stall of the baker with the forbidding grin. Try it a hundred times,try it a thousand,you’ll never get the fifth one right in the game of rings. People will come out screaming from the haunted house,only to laugh about it later, Little do they know,that skeletons that drove them pale and white couldn't get any realer. They’ll jostle and struggle to make their way through the crowd to various rides and attractions. Hustling to navigate through the maze the carnival is, encountered by countless illusions. And once your body wears out and senses give in,that’s when you've truly entered the carnival state of mind. Your ears stinging ,nose stifled,tongue baffled, eyes exhausted,and your sense of judgment blinded. That’s when my masked act begins,the most profitable act at the carnival, Diving into the heart of the crowd,to draw an act of brilliance lasting an ephemeral. Slithering across the crowd in a different disguise every hour,concealed by stealth. Sneaking into every nook and corner and slipping my furtive hands into your pockets for a little bit of wealth. Only to dine with the clowns and the carnival family at the haunted house at the end of the day. And of course, rabbits for dinner,if the baker may
0
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 3:13 AM UTC
Carnival
On the land molded by footsteps and ruled by obnoxiously bleached clowns, Visited by swarms of neighborhood guttersnipes and the opulent from uptown. Allured by the traditional Irish circus music and the grinding of rusted gears, To arrive at dawn and to leave only when the night sky is tired of fireworks and flares. Skittish and gleaming eyes would roll on the floor, struck by daze and lost in wonderment, At the marvel of giant steel rides and god forsaken and socially foretoken genetic mutants. The word of a woman with two faces and the boy with a tail would make any catholic priest run. Amusing the rational ones, alongside the man with elastic skin and the girl with the forked tongue. The opera lady with outlandish proportions and tumorous lips sings to break a piece of cheap glassware. Little do people know,that the magician’s red gloves are actually stained with blood of rabbit that disappeared. Their noses get caught in the medley of fragrances from the exotic perfumes shop, Blended with the saccharine tang from the stall that sells candy floss and soda pops. Indulging over the overly priced confectioneries at the stall of the baker with the forbidding grin. Try it a hundred times,try it a thousand,you’ll never get the fifth one right in the game of rings. People will come out screaming from the haunted house,only to laugh about it later, Little do they know,that skeletons that drove them pale and white couldn't get any realer. They’ll jostle and struggle to make their way through the crowd to various rides and attractions. Hustling to navigate through the maze the carnival is, encountered by countless illusions. And once your body wears out and senses give in,that’s when you've truly entered the carnival state of mind. Your ears stinging ,nose stifled,tongue baffled, eyes exhausted,and your sense of judgment blinded. That’s when my masked act begins,the most profitable act at the carnival, Diving into the heart of the crowd,to draw an act of brilliance lasting an ephemeral. Slithering across the crowd in a different disguise every hour,concealed by stealth. Sneaking into every nook and corner and slipping my furtive hands into your pockets for a little bit of wealth. Only to dine with the clowns and the carnival family at the haunted house at the end of the day. And of course, rabbits for dinner,if the baker may
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26
Its in these waters, when I was merely a Parr Or as you might refer to me as a fry, This wise but young Brook Trout cruised the slow water with my kinfolk fry. Moving to and fro hiding among the biome vegetation The sunlight supported my living space and warmed my growth rings. I dart in and out of the oxygenated seams which help me flourish. Some days, I had to use stealth to outwit the pine marten and warblers, I shadowed the cattail and watched them fill their bellies with those around me. But I felt fate had a purpose for me to be something special. And When the time was right, I'd propel myself above the water into the night air. The large circle of orange light filled my eyes and the night sky was filled with luminary. I imagined what it must be like to live outside this riffle domain. This morning, through my refractory vision I spot some floating objects, And through an inherited sensory recall I can see these are hatching green Drakes. I immediately shoot to the surface and fill my stomach, then swim back to the undercut for cover. As the years pass by and maturity abounds,  I find my self settling in behind a large boulder Right at the tail out of the back eddy, providing me with an ample food supply. And it's here I prefer to live my life in the slow current, content and peaceful. And one day as I swam into the current seam, I spotted what appeared to be, A different looking bug with yellow belly,  so I make my move. He's not moving much so I decide to raise my head above the water line and sip. As I grab the hopper I start to slide back behind the boulder, When I feel a pinch, as if someone try's to pull me towards the surface I fight with all my might but this force proves to be stronger than I. It's now I realize a human reels me towards the shore line, and I'm fearful. This one called a human, grabs my tail and places his hand on my under belly. Pulling me from my home, he dislodges the hook from my mouth. I gasp for oxygen. He looks me over from nose to tail, smiles and says how beautiful I am. He looks me in the eye And says " This was a wonderful fight my friend, enjoy the rest of your life, He places me back in water, gently reviving me and finally lets me swim away. I dare to turn and look back at him for a moment and as he continues to watch me, I hear him say " I fish, knowing everyday on this stream is a gift."
0
Feb 7, 2017
Feb 7, 2017 at 3:59 PM UTC
The Tail Out - A Brook Trout Story
Its in these waters, when I was merely a Parr Or as you might refer to me as a fry, This wise but young Brook Trout cruised the slow water with my kinfolk fry. Moving to and fro hiding among the biome vegetation The sunlight supported my living space and warmed my growth rings. I dart in and out of the oxygenated seams which help me flourish. Some days, I had to use stealth to outwit the pine marten and warblers, I shadowed the cattail and watched them fill their bellies with those around me. But I felt fate had a purpose for me to be something special. And When the time was right, I'd propel myself above the water into the night air. The large circle of orange light filled my eyes and the night sky was filled with luminary. I imagined what it must be like to live outside this riffle domain. This morning, through my refractory vision I spot some floating objects, And through an inherited sensory recall I can see these are hatching green Drakes. I immediately shoot to the surface and fill my stomach, then swim back to the undercut for cover. As the years pass by and maturity abounds,  I find my self settling in behind a large boulder Right at the tail out of the back eddy, providing me with an ample food supply. And it's here I prefer to live my life in the slow current, content and peaceful. And one day as I swam into the current seam, I spotted what appeared to be, A different looking bug with yellow belly,  so I make my move. He's not moving much so I decide to raise my head above the water line and sip. As I grab the hopper I start to slide back behind the boulder, When I feel a pinch, as if someone try's to pull me towards the surface I fight with all my might but this force proves to be stronger than I. It's now I realize a human reels me towards the shore line, and I'm fearful. This one called a human, grabs my tail and places his hand on my under belly. Pulling me from my home, he dislodges the hook from my mouth. I gasp for oxygen. He looks me over from nose to tail, smiles and says how beautiful I am. He looks me in the eye And says " This was a wonderful fight my friend, enjoy the rest of your life, He places me back in water, gently reviving me and finally lets me swim away. I dare to turn and look back at him for a moment and as he continues to watch me, I hear him say " I fish, knowing everyday on this stream is a gift."
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32
My body is fluid. stealth in its perfection. the energy of the universe coursing through. electric, energy and function. eternal in is basics and finite in its material. a gift from above. life supreme and knowing. ever evolving even as the air leaves me.
0
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 2:07 PM UTC
The Perfection of the Body
We are each our own moon. Charismatic souls reflecting sunlight, As if to illuminate a room, We glow against black, void; an endless night. Like a caterpillar to a butterfly, emerging from a tight knit cocoon, Spreading each wing, confidently slicing the evening air…taking flight. Or even a flower freshly bloomed on a midsummer’s afternoon. The moon: a flower, silently smiling despite the plight. Aside from what each day shuffles in; each night simmers out No matter how often we feel we have lost ourselves… Or leave way to fill our heads with doubt. With recurring assumptions of a worldwide redemption:omnipotent stealth. Needn't some take longer than others to sprout? Staring blankly into a mirror, or a moonless night sky: hungry for answers, yet facing an empty shelf. However, that doesn't infer we embark on a divergent route. Simply due to lack of clarity, lack of reasoning behind each card dealt. With that in mind, Just as the moon,true colors may dwindle…they may fade, yet in essence are always there. Even on a cloudy day, or when the sunshine is at its peak…and just as well for the blind. Full moon, half moon, new moon…waxing, waning: dynamic phases the night sky shares. Moon phases;moody faces…natures way of emphasizing personality defined. Notwithstanding the dark side, each moon may wear. Like a guilty pleasure manifesting in a secret shrine, We all suppress a certain side; to pompous to face reality genuinely bare. Fragments of our faces may always be hidden, But there’s one thing that will never absorb into the eclipse: emotion. Some figure each phase, each wave of vibes … simply fate already written. Devils advocate begs to differ… let your mind emit all distraction and harmonize with the ocean. Effervescent rays,warm barrels in which emotions, old and new, have ridden. Chaotically contradicting thoughts, pulling and pushing, creating the paradox of serene commotion. A world of words from each moon face: a beautiful encryption. We are each our own moon, written in the waves, compelled by life’s devotion.
0
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 1:13 AM UTC
Moon Faces : Moody Faces
We are each our own moon. Charismatic souls reflecting sunlight, As if to illuminate a room, We glow against black, void; an endless night. Like a caterpillar to a butterfly, emerging from a tight knit cocoon, Spreading each wing, confidently slicing the evening air…taking flight. Or even a flower freshly bloomed on a midsummer’s afternoon. The moon: a flower, silently smiling despite the plight. Aside from what each day shuffles in; each night simmers out No matter how often we feel we have lost ourselves… Or leave way to fill our heads with doubt. With recurring assumptions of a worldwide redemption:omnipotent stealth. Needn't some take longer than others to sprout? Staring blankly into a mirror, or a moonless night sky: hungry for answers, yet facing an empty shelf. However, that doesn't infer we embark on a divergent route. Simply due to lack of clarity, lack of reasoning behind each card dealt. With that in mind, Just as the moon,true colors may dwindle…they may fade, yet in essence are always there. Even on a cloudy day, or when the sunshine is at its peak…and just as well for the blind. Full moon, half moon, new moon…waxing, waning: dynamic phases the night sky shares. Moon phases;moody faces…natures way of emphasizing personality defined. Notwithstanding the dark side, each moon may wear. Like a guilty pleasure manifesting in a secret shrine, We all suppress a certain side; to pompous to face reality genuinely bare. Fragments of our faces may always be hidden, But there’s one thing that will never absorb into the eclipse: emotion. Some figure each phase, each wave of vibes … simply fate already written. Devils advocate begs to differ… let your mind emit all distraction and harmonize with the ocean. Effervescent rays,warm barrels in which emotions, old and new, have ridden. Chaotically contradicting thoughts, pulling and pushing, creating the paradox of serene commotion. A world of words from each moon face: a beautiful encryption. We are each our own moon, written in the waves, compelled by life’s devotion.
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32
The forest of legs swayed in the moving shadows beneath the chatter over head, each threatening to block our path and crush our attempt to get to the first fallen crisps of the party season, which as yet laid undisturbed. We weaved and advanced as fast as their legs allowed, eager to scavenge the waiting bounty before they were trampled underfoot by the oblivious adults who were intent on a seasonal ritual of their own that went on high over our heads. We emerged unscathed at the edge of the forest and raced across the open parquet to the cover of the drapped, white topped trestle tables catching our breaths and crunching our snatched crisps planning our next move toward the plateau above. Our scout had reported rich pickings, but when we looked around, seeking signs of our brave advance party, we could find no trace beyond a half eaten volovant and what might have been regurgitated mushroom. We shook our heads in despair at their folly. Every kid knows to stick to crisps and to processed meats, avoiding anything that might contain vegetables. We saw an open French window just beyond the trestles and heard plaintive heaves that had a distinct 6 year old strain. We checked each other's resolve and saw on each other's faces that we believed our mission was more important than any one stomach. With a maturity that would have surprised our parents, we pushed the plight of our friend to the back of our minds and focused on the task at hand. We each reached up with practiced stealth, taking only a second to check the food on offer and with a speed bred into us by the curse of older siblings, we each grabbed our prize. Acknowledging the hazards of the return journey we devoured the meat at hand and with hyena grins savoured our just rewards. While our fallen friend heaved once more, we saluted one another: the season had started better than any of us could have hoped.
0
Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 5:25 PM UTC
First hunt of the season
The forest of legs swayed in the moving shadows beneath the chatter over head, each threatening to block our path and crush our attempt to get to the first fallen crisps of the party season, which as yet laid undisturbed. We weaved and advanced as fast as their legs allowed, eager to scavenge the waiting bounty before they were trampled underfoot by the oblivious adults who were intent on a seasonal ritual of their own that went on high over our heads. We emerged unscathed at the edge of the forest and raced across the open parquet to the cover of the drapped, white topped trestle tables catching our breaths and crunching our snatched crisps planning our next move toward the plateau above. Our scout had reported rich pickings, but when we looked around, seeking signs of our brave advance party, we could find no trace beyond a half eaten volovant and what might have been regurgitated mushroom. We shook our heads in despair at their folly. Every kid knows to stick to crisps and to processed meats, avoiding anything that might contain vegetables. We saw an open French window just beyond the trestles and heard plaintive heaves that had a distinct 6 year old strain. We checked each other's resolve and saw on each other's faces that we believed our mission was more important than any one stomach. With a maturity that would have surprised our parents, we pushed the plight of our friend to the back of our minds and focused on the task at hand. We each reached up with practiced stealth, taking only a second to check the food on offer and with a speed bred into us by the curse of older siblings, we each grabbed our prize. Acknowledging the hazards of the return journey we devoured the meat at hand and with hyena grins savoured our just rewards. While our fallen friend heaved once more, we saluted one another: the season had started better than any of us could have hoped.
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7
I think about old faces, you were a friend to me then I try to think harder though, where have those memories been? More faces coming through, sticking less with every pass I can't say that I would hope that these new memories last. Not in a sad time, not stuck in a place of hurt. I just feel like I can't remember the good times to weigh the worth. These new times, are something hollow, empty and void of feeling No sleepless nights, but I find my self always staring towards the ceiling So revealing, makes me notice my true emotions deep inside Always telling jokes and laughing but right now we rewind. I think about old faces, you were a friend to me then I try to think harder though, where have those memories been? More faces coming through, sticking less with every pass I can't say that I would hope that these new memories last. People say memories fade, others say memories last I'd like to think that I could leave memories in the past I don't want to cling to them like that's the only thing I have But is it really bad? I guess you can say I'm home sick Not missing my residence but missing where I've been Reminiscing about the things that I have left on my journey But they're not on their deathbeds, they're just on a gurney Now do I save them, make sure that they are never forgotten? If they start to fade for new memories should I stop them? I feel like I need to answer quick, like I'm running out of time I could keep stressing but right now, we rewind. I think about old faces, you were a friend to me then I try to think harder though, where have those memories been? More faces coming through, sticking less with every pass I can't say that I would hope that these new memories last. I miss the days where I didn't have to miss my days Where I could express myself in different ways But this is today. Prattling words to my self Not sharing my feelings, not sharing the wealth I vent in stealth, not letting all the friends of me hear it As if I'm ashamed, like I think my enemy is my spirit You're hearing me in these lyrics, I'm embodied in the words you see This is me in these lyrics, feelings and words, you see? So if you're feeling my words, that means you're feeling me So if you think that I'm a clown, this is the realest me So this is real you see, no false words from the mind I could keep on going but right now, we rewind. I think about old faces, you were a friend to me then I try to think harder though, where have those memories been? More faces coming through, sticking less with every pass I can't say that I would hope that these new memories last. Where does the time go? I feel it slipping by me I feel like my biggest problem now is I keep rewinding So you may find me, reminiscing about the time before Or catch me on a good day and I'll be rhyming more Keeping myself in good spirits, while I find the path Watching my life just add up, because well, life is math Memories fade, because we subtract those things from the past But it only happens to us, because we have something to add So nothing is bad. Memory? I'll live all the good times with it in me How much space do I have for the good times? Infinity. No more time to rewind, I guess I have nothing left to say. I guess the only thing left to do now is. Press Play.
0
Dec 17, 2011
Dec 17, 2011 at 11:07 AM UTC
Rewind -- Press Play
I think about old faces, you were a friend to me then I try to think harder though, where have those memories been? More faces coming through, sticking less with every pass I can't say that I would hope that these new memories last. Not in a sad time, not stuck in a place of hurt. I just feel like I can't remember the good times to weigh the worth. These new times, are something hollow, empty and void of feeling No sleepless nights, but I find my self always staring towards the ceiling So revealing, makes me notice my true emotions deep inside Always telling jokes and laughing but right now we rewind. I think about old faces, you were a friend to me then I try to think harder though, where have those memories been? More faces coming through, sticking less with every pass I can't say that I would hope that these new memories last. People say memories fade, others say memories last I'd like to think that I could leave memories in the past I don't want to cling to them like that's the only thing I have But is it really bad? I guess you can say I'm home sick Not missing my residence but missing where I've been Reminiscing about the things that I have left on my journey But they're not on their deathbeds, they're just on a gurney Now do I save them, make sure that they are never forgotten? If they start to fade for new memories should I stop them? I feel like I need to answer quick, like I'm running out of time I could keep stressing but right now, we rewind. I think about old faces, you were a friend to me then I try to think harder though, where have those memories been? More faces coming through, sticking less with every pass I can't say that I would hope that these new memories last. I miss the days where I didn't have to miss my days Where I could express myself in different ways But this is today. Prattling words to my self Not sharing my feelings, not sharing the wealth I vent in stealth, not letting all the friends of me hear it As if I'm ashamed, like I think my enemy is my spirit You're hearing me in these lyrics, I'm embodied in the words you see This is me in these lyrics, feelings and words, you see? So if you're feeling my words, that means you're feeling me So if you think that I'm a clown, this is the realest me So this is real you see, no false words from the mind I could keep on going but right now, we rewind. I think about old faces, you were a friend to me then I try to think harder though, where have those memories been? More faces coming through, sticking less with every pass I can't say that I would hope that these new memories last. Where does the time go? I feel it slipping by me I feel like my biggest problem now is I keep rewinding So you may find me, reminiscing about the time before Or catch me on a good day and I'll be rhyming more Keeping myself in good spirits, while I find the path Watching my life just add up, because well, life is math Memories fade, because we subtract those things from the past But it only happens to us, because we have something to add So nothing is bad. Memory? I'll live all the good times with it in me How much space do I have for the good times? Infinity. No more time to rewind, I guess I have nothing left to say. I guess the only thing left to do now is. Press Play.
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57
When the kill-shot kills not, the dead lions don’t roar. They become the ghost in the dark, silent yet present. Like power, real power, stealth in tall green grasses, they watch the victory dances and gleeful prances of deluded preys. Beware!! Be not carried away. Look into the eyes of the golden flames, See their manes –Alive!! In the fog of night’s peaceful fade. ©Belema .S. Ekine ©belemascribbles
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Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 9:32 AM UTC
DEAD LIONS DON’T ROAR
I hear thunder *No you don't, The voices in your head want some more* You're lying! I am aware of my blunders. I can hear thunder! *No,  you can't you're just deaf and without a plan* You're just inviting trouble Everyone is trying to hurt me. My only defence is the thunder I hear it. I feel it. Zeus loves me. Mountains tremble in fear. He is ready with his bolt. It's a message you don't see it yet but when thunder shakes the ground you shall hold your breath. *Talk about Hermes, Apollo and everyone else. The thunder shall do us no harm. Olympus was never safe. Aphrodite knows how to sell her body There will be war, my friend. The titans will rise. Kronos will escape from Tartarus and attack in stealth.* You dummkopf, you have no idea what you have been talking Don't argue over Father of God's bolt! God of the skies. Traveling by air? You might die. Poseidon can make your way back difficult This behaviour of yours was very typical. *You ignore your mind when it plays tricks on you Oh dear, you really are a fool*
0
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
The debate between the fool and the hunchback
by rgpage in this late hour on a mid-august night the day's torturous heat now just a trace. with heaven's dark sky splattered star light bright and with the moon's help, how they now illuminate. naked to the night on a blanket she waits from a crystal flute she sips her wine. its acrid taste makes her body brace, and her silky skin to shine. our lady awaits anticipates the night of love to be, she's made her nest in secluded style away from prying eyes, alone in the night she patiently waits for her lover to arrive. her warm body bathes in the evening breeze eyes closed she lets her fingers roam, her half-erect ******* she'll gently squeeze 'til engorged with blood they flush fully grown. laying a hand to her most sensitive spot the cradle of life's onset if you will, her first finger eases itself into place, and deftly a second does follow. slowly and softly in clockwise rotation wishing it were her lover's trace; the effect was good with her hip's gentle motion her soul now wrapped in silk and lace. with quiet stealth on an old forest path her mate breaks out of the tall trees cover, spotting his sensual prey's silhouette naked and silent he slips toward his lover. feeling his presents her eyes slightly open towering above her as tall as the trees, she sees her muscular handsome young swain in time to see him drop to his knees. leaning in he gives her soft kiss' his hand tracks her ******* with a gentle lover's mirth, slowly and gently he brings her along, with a touch as soft as a feather's fall to earth. reaching forth and touching his face and gently pulling him down to her lips, they lightly touch then drift apart as he makes his way to her ******* and hips. the time is not urgent there's no wasted efforts, every inch of her skin he greets with a kiss, as a hungry lion studies his prey not a single sound made, nor morsel missed. seductively firm he leads her to ****** she honors his every wish and whim. knowing his every move leads to pleasure from pleasure to rapture time and again. as the moon crosses over making way for the day, and the star's disappear in the sun's early light. our lady awakens alone where she lay her mysterious lover is gone with the night…
0
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 12:00 PM UTC
the nestling
by rgpage in this late hour on a mid-august night the day's torturous heat now just a trace. with heaven's dark sky splattered star light bright and with the moon's help, how they now illuminate. naked to the night on a blanket she waits from a crystal flute she sips her wine. its acrid taste makes her body brace, and her silky skin to shine. our lady awaits anticipates the night of love to be, she's made her nest in secluded style away from prying eyes, alone in the night she patiently waits for her lover to arrive. her warm body bathes in the evening breeze eyes closed she lets her fingers roam, her half-erect ******* she'll gently squeeze 'til engorged with blood they flush fully grown. laying a hand to her most sensitive spot the cradle of life's onset if you will, her first finger eases itself into place, and deftly a second does follow. slowly and softly in clockwise rotation wishing it were her lover's trace; the effect was good with her hip's gentle motion her soul now wrapped in silk and lace. with quiet stealth on an old forest path her mate breaks out of the tall trees cover, spotting his sensual prey's silhouette naked and silent he slips toward his lover. feeling his presents her eyes slightly open towering above her as tall as the trees, she sees her muscular handsome young swain in time to see him drop to his knees. leaning in he gives her soft kiss' his hand tracks her ******* with a gentle lover's mirth, slowly and gently he brings her along, with a touch as soft as a feather's fall to earth. reaching forth and touching his face and gently pulling him down to her lips, they lightly touch then drift apart as he makes his way to her ******* and hips. the time is not urgent there's no wasted efforts, every inch of her skin he greets with a kiss, as a hungry lion studies his prey not a single sound made, nor morsel missed. seductively firm he leads her to ****** she honors his every wish and whim. knowing his every move leads to pleasure from pleasure to rapture time and again. as the moon crosses over making way for the day, and the star's disappear in the sun's early light. our lady awakens alone where she lay her mysterious lover is gone with the night…
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54
1651 A Word made Flesh is seldom And tremblingly partook Nor then perhaps reported But have I not mistook Each one of us has tasted With ecstasies of stealth The very food debated To our specific strength— A Word that breathes distinctly Has not the power to die Cohesive as the Spirit It may expire if He— “Made Flesh and dwelt among us” Could condescension be Like this consent of Language This loved Philology.
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4k
A Word made Flesh is seldom
When I was a boy, about ten years old I wanted to be a Ninja A killer, stone cold So I would go to my room To practice my secret moves Against imaginary opponents Who were sure to lose I would even dress all in black For the really epic fights Then throw my plastic Ninja stars And quickly turn off the lights I was a master of stealth Ready to take on the world Using my Ninja weapons To save pretty girls With wooden sword in hand And steely guts… I had to come back to reality Because mom brought home doughnuts!
0
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 5:29 AM UTC
Doughnuts of Death
Stay still. Oh, Captive queen. Capital the stealth is. A diamond of many edges, you can be. Devasting all what you play with. It is your nature. Consuming to the boulders only with your presence. That's why you are measured Stay loyal Our moment will come. When the gates of my complexion, Unleashed will deploy. The fierce will no longer be tamed, I will let it go.
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Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 12:54 PM UTC
Lioness.
I take a deep breath to staunch That constant clang and clatter Be still and follow the hunch Before it’s too late to matter I need a quiet place A shift in space, a change in stealth My next breath can create Some room to gaze at something else Soon I must take a break I can’t settle down or think straight Wrestling with those demons I know not the time or the date Looking back looks so abnormal Deadly games of Red Rover Spawning pages from my journals Replaying over and over I know not steps to take On pathways for planting the seed Peace, her elusive face Turns away whenever I plead Time to build that Safe House Only I have the key to the door Where peace and bliss abounds I meet each holy moment and soar Seek a new vision there And learn to think more about others Let go my tormented memories Seeing All-my Sisters and Brothers I find that peaceful space Just to release what I don’t need Harmony-Beauty-Love Replaces all my soul has freed Filling up my Heart Space As soft as a sweet baby’s kiss Some name the feeling Grace I feel a sense of peace and bliss
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Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 4:28 PM UTC
I Need a Quiet Place
The falcon flying high above Keen eye on unaware prey Its hostile eyes scanning each move Oblivious of impending danger Hovering above it with stealth Wings spread wide in elegance Swooping down with speed Hunting its prey with beak and talons
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Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 1:24 AM UTC
Falcon
The grotesque weight of human ignorance Has slain the carcasses of innocence Though I shall amplify resilience Decline its fascist pleas to vanquish No more spare **** it shall **** No severed tissues we shall tape No stealth blades puncturing the nape We're foreign to psychotic language Advance we must, cascade we shan't Supremacy's the hymn we chant Our eminence shall never slant Majority refrains to languish Not a stain of slumber peaks Bones of stark rivalry we seek © 2012 (All rights reserved)
0
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 1:25 AM UTC
Grotesque Supremacy