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"unchartered" poems
would you listen or laugh at me            for claiming love's an ocean? neither a knife, nor a blindfold                                                       ...but a sea. there's a human-borne catastrophe.                        cast your eye upon those with no share.           the contents of their buckets are polluted and impure yet all but 5% goes unexplored. do you find yourself choking in your sleep?   why watch the waves from safe dry ground                                                   when you could delve in deep? do you live in fear of unchartered seas                                                    and life still left unfound? are you overheating if only not to drown? we 'love addicts' are water children. i run outside and taste the rain.   let's go! let's drink! let's swim! let's bathe                    and watch it seep into our pores                          -- it escapes me how you stay indoors!
0
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 11:24 AM UTC
waist-deep
My moral compass has gone askew In truth I flung it away Like caution to the wind Here I'm ready for adventures Take me on a sensory journey Guide me on a trail of wonder Lift me up to flights of fancy Roll with me in meadows Skinny dip in azure seas Lets cross unchartered waters Taste new exotic foods Sip from my overflowing cup And we'll set up camp and explore the undulating peaks and valleys of our own landscapes ;-)
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Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 9:31 AM UTC
Fantasy
Jam non consilio bonus, sed more eo perductus, ut non tantum recte facere possim, sed nisi recte facere non possim (Seneca, Letters 130.10) Stern Daughter of the Voice of God! O Duty! if that name thou love Who art a light to guide, a rod To check the erring, and reprove; Thou, who art victory and law When empty terrors overawe; From vain temptations dost set free; And calm’st the weary strife of frail humanity! There are who ask not if thine eye Be on them; who, in love and truth, Where no misgiving is, rely Upon the genial sense of youth: Glad Hearts! without reproach or blot; Who do thy work, and know it not: Oh! if through confidence misplaced They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power! around them cast. Serene will be our days and bright, And happy will our nature be, When love is an unerring light, And joy its own security. And they a blissful course may hold Even now, who, not unwisely bold, Live in the spirit of this creed; Yet seek thy firm support, according to their need. I, loving freedom, and untried; No sport of every random gust, Yet being to myself a guide, Too blindly have reposed my trust: And oft, when in my heart was heard Thy timely mandate, I deferred The task, in smoother walks to stray; But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may. Through no disturbance of my soul, Or strong compunction in me wrought, I supplicate for thy control; But in the quietness of thought: Me this unchartered freedom tires; I feel the weight of chance-desires: My hopes no more must change their name, I long for a repose that ever is the same. Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear The Godhead’s most benignant grace; Nor know we anything so fair As is the smile upon thy face: Flowers laugh before thee on their beds And fragrance in thy footing treads; Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong; And the most ancient heavens, through Thee, are fresh and strong. To humbler functions, awful Power! I call thee: I myself commend Unto thy guidance from this hour; Oh, let my weakness have an end! Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of self-sacrifice; The confidence of reason give; And in the light of truth thy Bondman let me live!
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2.4k
Ode To Duty
Jam non consilio bonus, sed more eo perductus, ut non tantum recte facere possim, sed nisi recte facere non possim (Seneca, Letters 130.10) Stern Daughter of the Voice of God! O Duty! if that name thou love Who art a light to guide, a rod To check the erring, and reprove; Thou, who art victory and law When empty terrors overawe; From vain temptations dost set free; And calm’st the weary strife of frail humanity! There are who ask not if thine eye Be on them; who, in love and truth, Where no misgiving is, rely Upon the genial sense of youth: Glad Hearts! without reproach or blot; Who do thy work, and know it not: Oh! if through confidence misplaced They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power! around them cast. Serene will be our days and bright, And happy will our nature be, When love is an unerring light, And joy its own security. And they a blissful course may hold Even now, who, not unwisely bold, Live in the spirit of this creed; Yet seek thy firm support, according to their need. I, loving freedom, and untried; No sport of every random gust, Yet being to myself a guide, Too blindly have reposed my trust: And oft, when in my heart was heard Thy timely mandate, I deferred The task, in smoother walks to stray; But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may. Through no disturbance of my soul, Or strong compunction in me wrought, I supplicate for thy control; But in the quietness of thought: Me this unchartered freedom tires; I feel the weight of chance-desires: My hopes no more must change their name, I long for a repose that ever is the same. Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear The Godhead’s most benignant grace; Nor know we anything so fair As is the smile upon thy face: Flowers laugh before thee on their beds And fragrance in thy footing treads; Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong; And the most ancient heavens, through Thee, are fresh and strong. To humbler functions, awful Power! I call thee: I myself commend Unto thy guidance from this hour; Oh, let my weakness have an end! Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of self-sacrifice; The confidence of reason give; And in the light of truth thy Bondman let me live!
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59
*The cordons of existence are constricting For the keepers of the dream have let us down, Who will buy tomorrow if performances are hollow Causing all the global spectators to frown? American has been the silk pyjamas Since ’45 they’ve lead the world’s display In health and wealth and brandishing the muscle But in recent times it seems they’ve seen their day. For since Clinton’s time the National debt has spiralled They’ve departed brushfire wars in disarray, Default now looms obscene with disharmony supreme With Congressional leaders ranting in the fray. The fiasco of a Government held to ransom By a faction of extremist’s from the right, Whilst the greenback in decline won’t change water into wine The dire threat of fiscal chaos causes fright. So global confidence is fading in the dollar And the watchers shake their heads in blank despair, For the willingness to follow is now a bitter pill to swallow When the USA’s rock steadiness aint’ there. So, what’s around the corner for tomorrow? What aspirants are waiting in the wings? With a fading USA perhaps it’s China’s turn to play Though that’s going to mean adjustments made to things. Of course we’re venturing into territory’s unchartered And the crystal ball consulted, isn’t clear But one thing I can assure, if this is what we must endure, Is that our tomorrows will be something, now, to fear.* Marshalg Auckland N.Z. 19 October 2013
0
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 8:01 PM UTC
Pygmalion
**I tread to keep my head Just above the water; But find myself floating away ~ While others were sinking or swimming down yonder, I ponder, though my thoughts betray The reality that I perceive Which may, or may not be as limiting Of that which you can conceive, Or can see much stronger I no longer bother; It’s deceiving so I castaway, And leave myself astray in the fray / Blottering• To alter my relief of mindscape and believe, there’ll better days, beyond what I face Cremate my remains in the ashtray someday Energy never ceases to exist It perpetually permeates the cosmic collective consciousness Wherever my soul will occupy the confines in space Of the vibrations that happen to solidify my base And give me just the slightest trace, that I’m phasing amidst these in-between places I feel as though I am an imposter - Egregiously living a grievous dream, of which I have conjured; That I am lost, and therefore cannot prosper Because I harbor improper resentment, that I will foster until my departure This fractal picture of the macrocosm only grows larger, but from farther away; As it becomes harder to map the realms of territories unchartered in my escape I try to attain, but only falter in vain To discover what the universe truly contains And convey that in words to paint mental frames/ Maybe it’s strange but one must think outside the constraints It may sound absurd but please keep up the pace Spiritual enlightenment for real is the surreal end-game in which we all play chase replacing Incarcerated rocks to be polished, in this giant machine Perpetually incarnating A shining spirit until that’s all that remains Once every imperfection Is completely erased When the correct particles have been finally arranged & Nirvana has since become fully sustained Can I truly be One with my Self- And not just a product of fate**
0
Sep 4, 2019
Sep 4, 2019 at 6:01 AM UTC
De•per•son•al•iz•a•tion
**I tread to keep my head Just above the water; But find myself floating away ~ While others were sinking or swimming down yonder, I ponder, though my thoughts betray The reality that I perceive Which may, or may not be as limiting Of that which you can conceive, Or can see much stronger I no longer bother; It’s deceiving so I castaway, And leave myself astray in the fray / Blottering• To alter my relief of mindscape and believe, there’ll better days, beyond what I face Cremate my remains in the ashtray someday Energy never ceases to exist It perpetually permeates the cosmic collective consciousness Wherever my soul will occupy the confines in space Of the vibrations that happen to solidify my base And give me just the slightest trace, that I’m phasing amidst these in-between places I feel as though I am an imposter - Egregiously living a grievous dream, of which I have conjured; That I am lost, and therefore cannot prosper Because I harbor improper resentment, that I will foster until my departure This fractal picture of the macrocosm only grows larger, but from farther away; As it becomes harder to map the realms of territories unchartered in my escape I try to attain, but only falter in vain To discover what the universe truly contains And convey that in words to paint mental frames/ Maybe it’s strange but one must think outside the constraints It may sound absurd but please keep up the pace Spiritual enlightenment for real is the surreal end-game in which we all play chase replacing Incarcerated rocks to be polished, in this giant machine Perpetually incarnating A shining spirit until that’s all that remains Once every imperfection Is completely erased When the correct particles have been finally arranged & Nirvana has since become fully sustained Can I truly be One with my Self- And not just a product of fate**
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65
Veins, veins, length and breadth, intertwined beats to freedom or desolation; a terminus lost on a circular. An ebbing destination, unchartered targets, Follow the signs. We are a one way street, follow the signs on software maps. Stumped by sequential lights and us, caught in a dragnet within steely fish, gasping for air, choking on smoke, bilious coughs, hacking sputum, gobbing phlegm globs in interval gaps within gridlocks; nose to **** to nose to **** The rage, the stares the shouts, the finger, the Grrr’s, the Rrrr’s, the honks, the blares, the bumper to bumper expletive shares. The rolling down, the alighting, the threats, the fighting. The falling down, the separation, reseating, the rolling, the thunder, the trudge, the stops, the starts. Follow the signs, follow the signs. Robotic conveyors for humans, mechanical fossil fueled chariots, grumbling, grunting, wheee-ing and screeching, and screaming and spewing and chuffing and guffing black plumes, air tarred, veins, veins clogged and bogged, viscous, molasses, liquid black blob. Road fogged, numbers logged. Veins, veins, follow the signs, slow crawl. Veins, veins, follow the signs, follow the signs, sprawl. Copyright Marc Hawkins 2017
0
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 6:20 AM UTC
SPRAWL
It’s the hollow sound of a toast to fill the silence of unaddressed questions, the celebratory clanging of glass on glass ringing from assumptions based on past experiences and theories      from synapses of protagonists or all that is mystical; a god or a God           for the rhetoric of bad days; the precatory shoulda, woulda, coulda’s    you can count with all digits and the humdrums, the lalala’s to songs with lines you can never remember. It is to fill in, with pencil, the blanks of unclear intentions, capricious endings,      the what comes after the highest number, tentative now, for it is a trick question, the true stories of Bermuda Triangles and Altantises,           for the ones Amelia kissed goodbye and all that is brief,                promises neither broken nor kept;      some, hypotheses for what happens after waiting.                It is the makeshift certainty ascertained the day he left           all these unfinished, unanswered, incomplete… things. The sure of it      invented by staking everything in a nebulous something, a nebulous anything that will have to do, like cotton patches      on satin dresses or saints for hopeless causes.                It was the invention to quench the constant           need to know, to fill the in-between start to end        for all that we can not stop. A made-up map by pirates below ten for every time we must set destinations beyond unchartered unknowns;                      a make-believe place holder to hold us to the relief           we get from closure when                   the universe gives us none. It is the lemniscate, the amen, the St. Jude we assign to our altars until we find actual satin or the aviatrix herself,           or surrender everything in the spirit of faith                     or believe           that not all things unfound are lost.
0
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 12:23 PM UTC
Place Holder
It’s the hollow sound of a toast to fill the silence of unaddressed questions, the celebratory clanging of glass on glass ringing from assumptions based on past experiences and theories      from synapses of protagonists or all that is mystical; a god or a God           for the rhetoric of bad days; the precatory shoulda, woulda, coulda’s    you can count with all digits and the humdrums, the lalala’s to songs with lines you can never remember. It is to fill in, with pencil, the blanks of unclear intentions, capricious endings,      the what comes after the highest number, tentative now, for it is a trick question, the true stories of Bermuda Triangles and Altantises,           for the ones Amelia kissed goodbye and all that is brief,                promises neither broken nor kept;      some, hypotheses for what happens after waiting.                It is the makeshift certainty ascertained the day he left           all these unfinished, unanswered, incomplete… things. The sure of it      invented by staking everything in a nebulous something, a nebulous anything that will have to do, like cotton patches      on satin dresses or saints for hopeless causes.                It was the invention to quench the constant           need to know, to fill the in-between start to end        for all that we can not stop. A made-up map by pirates below ten for every time we must set destinations beyond unchartered unknowns;                      a make-believe place holder to hold us to the relief           we get from closure when                   the universe gives us none. It is the lemniscate, the amen, the St. Jude we assign to our altars until we find actual satin or the aviatrix herself,           or surrender everything in the spirit of faith                     or believe           that not all things unfound are lost.
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33
The Easel and the Tripod She created from paints his capturing was done through a camera lens from the towering canyons of New York to the windswept desert their love and fame grew proportionately how large can love grow When it has such backdrops and talents fused together the height and strength of New York’s Skyscrapers to the vastness and richness of New Mexico’s desert that is missed by most but through the Eyes of Georgia O Keefe the dead items took on a vibrancy and life and through her husband Alfred Stieglitz she was revealed as artist and beloved only as a man giving full vent to his heart and the Emotions that were found there oh heart shine through this prism of painting and photography the Lucid the albescence of pretext with brush and pallet and the keenness of eye to see into the depths Give expression then adjust it in a minor way then capture on glass plates the indescribable desire that Lies hidden but is the center of emotions intent none so inclined will ever weary this well tells of Never ending depths a stranger will ever only be able to scratch the surface because the power of love Truly is mysterious beyond compare to look upon another release all restrictions give command to Decrement the probe will find only the enlightened exquisite inner and outer collusions that occur Briefly but are ever after defined by that moment the merging of two into one by common interest You have crossed the unknown unchartered waters but in them are found the most accomplished life That can ever be found an easel and a tripod is a silent witness and a grounding point that energy is Released across the span of the earth and touches the Cosmos and will call infinity home love started Of truth will never be extinguished by time or eternity so therefore go into your own gallery of the mind Stand at the headwaters of bliss it is time to celebrate undying love
0
Feb 7, 2012
Feb 7, 2012 at 7:38 PM UTC
The Easel and the Tripod
The Easel and the Tripod She created from paints his capturing was done through a camera lens from the towering canyons of New York to the windswept desert their love and fame grew proportionately how large can love grow When it has such backdrops and talents fused together the height and strength of New York’s Skyscrapers to the vastness and richness of New Mexico’s desert that is missed by most but through the Eyes of Georgia O Keefe the dead items took on a vibrancy and life and through her husband Alfred Stieglitz she was revealed as artist and beloved only as a man giving full vent to his heart and the Emotions that were found there oh heart shine through this prism of painting and photography the Lucid the albescence of pretext with brush and pallet and the keenness of eye to see into the depths Give expression then adjust it in a minor way then capture on glass plates the indescribable desire that Lies hidden but is the center of emotions intent none so inclined will ever weary this well tells of Never ending depths a stranger will ever only be able to scratch the surface because the power of love Truly is mysterious beyond compare to look upon another release all restrictions give command to Decrement the probe will find only the enlightened exquisite inner and outer collusions that occur Briefly but are ever after defined by that moment the merging of two into one by common interest You have crossed the unknown unchartered waters but in them are found the most accomplished life That can ever be found an easel and a tripod is a silent witness and a grounding point that energy is Released across the span of the earth and touches the Cosmos and will call infinity home love started Of truth will never be extinguished by time or eternity so therefore go into your own gallery of the mind Stand at the headwaters of bliss it is time to celebrate undying love
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20
I don’t like having to put in the effort on things that leave an extra page missing I can’t trust it You’re every little thread I’ve tiptoed around Making sure I don’t move on unchartered space too quickly   I felt like you didn’t want that too With your experience and all Your chapters have started There have been important people Leaving fly leafs Or bookmarks Waiting to be scanned through blankly Or Revisited I don’t know who was important enough And I’m too afraid to ask As to who That little thread head was So I made a subtle investigation I’ve wandered around some parts of your book to merit Audible versions of this girl whose book So well covered In dusted promises and doodles There was an innocence left of her That was so kept She needed to hold my hand To lift her pages so slightly “Careful” She whispers a great deal These past few months She’s trusted me with The choreographed pressure of how To feather the leaves of her past On good days she’d read back ours I’ve quoted enough lines and characters and memories To entertain her of how it once was The threads vibrate and echo Reiterated but answers back the same The untangled locks at least I’ve seen fly leafs Those were left with no closure “We kind of just stopped talking” or “can we not mention her” I’ve seen bookmarks Of relatives and family and friends And lovers The bookmark had thread hair that tangled up so much that it left an aching worry in my heart She was a lover A lover with a bookmark The bookmark who echoed a little too differently and brushed my skin too often when I’d lift a page A little too close to the chapter on which she was written about I don’t have quotes on her But I have their stories Stories have become our currency The currency that equaled trust The same currency that taught me how she was And how to be The currency that mattered I’ve invested on these stories and have managed the skill of being gentle I was the chapter that started after the messed up spool of the thread head lover I guess that’s why it brushes in so close to me I’m worried that I’ll end up tripping over thread, hold a page too tight That I’ll rip down my own pages And mess up perfectly fonted words Forcing you to Close down a chapter of me with a torn out page You were too sentimental to throw away And just be left as not even A bookmark But rather a poor excuse for a fly leaf that You’d rather not talk about.
0
Jul 26, 2016
Jul 26, 2016 at 9:05 AM UTC
Flyleaf
I don’t like having to put in the effort on things that leave an extra page missing I can’t trust it You’re every little thread I’ve tiptoed around Making sure I don’t move on unchartered space too quickly   I felt like you didn’t want that too With your experience and all Your chapters have started There have been important people Leaving fly leafs Or bookmarks Waiting to be scanned through blankly Or Revisited I don’t know who was important enough And I’m too afraid to ask As to who That little thread head was So I made a subtle investigation I’ve wandered around some parts of your book to merit Audible versions of this girl whose book So well covered In dusted promises and doodles There was an innocence left of her That was so kept She needed to hold my hand To lift her pages so slightly “Careful” She whispers a great deal These past few months She’s trusted me with The choreographed pressure of how To feather the leaves of her past On good days she’d read back ours I’ve quoted enough lines and characters and memories To entertain her of how it once was The threads vibrate and echo Reiterated but answers back the same The untangled locks at least I’ve seen fly leafs Those were left with no closure “We kind of just stopped talking” or “can we not mention her” I’ve seen bookmarks Of relatives and family and friends And lovers The bookmark had thread hair that tangled up so much that it left an aching worry in my heart She was a lover A lover with a bookmark The bookmark who echoed a little too differently and brushed my skin too often when I’d lift a page A little too close to the chapter on which she was written about I don’t have quotes on her But I have their stories Stories have become our currency The currency that equaled trust The same currency that taught me how she was And how to be The currency that mattered I’ve invested on these stories and have managed the skill of being gentle I was the chapter that started after the messed up spool of the thread head lover I guess that’s why it brushes in so close to me I’m worried that I’ll end up tripping over thread, hold a page too tight That I’ll rip down my own pages And mess up perfectly fonted words Forcing you to Close down a chapter of me with a torn out page You were too sentimental to throw away And just be left as not even A bookmark But rather a poor excuse for a fly leaf that You’d rather not talk about.
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69
Put the long boat in the deep waters of the mind the calm peaceful knowing all is glowing we glide not Knowing where were going the subconscious will be our guide dividing the two worlds the quiet Submersible is wild anything may be floating in these depths we have left shore far behind truly We have entered unchartered waters there is no fixable Bering a lustiness takes over there is no helm Just a pervading looseness not unsettling but truly uncharacteristic for the coconscious must always Have a grip a grasp of what is where it is and every detail must be quantified now all senses are blown A storm is brewing its far reaches unknown but there is softness that excludes fear the overriding Thought is possibilities can be forged maximized eternalized thoughts are ghost like unknown entities They were formally known but now remain a mystery dislodged from thought bases that are not solid All is free association tantalizing in one sense then disconcerting in another what do I do with my mind Surly it has jumped off the track I could be bewildered if I could get a hold on the situation free flowing Unspoken but still distinctively saying volumes where is the slow button reams voluminous thoughts Are spewing into nothingness being lost I can’t keep up the discernible is mixed with eons and theorems Time and space is void of meaning the world here is elastic mass it convulses at will no parameters exist The only thing constant is high velocity change being in one place is impossible all is jumbled who stirred This caldron in my mind voice and pure thought are the same think it know it what burdensome lives we Live when it is all a tattered sail on rough seas we behold nothing know nothing in the extreme Romanticism blurts out sail for Trafalgar we are strangers in a plush gifted void try as we will there is No simple answers but we are a simple people truly the only time were are fit is when we are sound Asleep well then sleep on and I will do the same dreaming is therapeutic just think how crazy we would Be without it
0
Nov 17, 2011
Nov 17, 2011 at 5:41 AM UTC
Bedazzled Dreamer
Put the long boat in the deep waters of the mind the calm peaceful knowing all is glowing we glide not Knowing where were going the subconscious will be our guide dividing the two worlds the quiet Submersible is wild anything may be floating in these depths we have left shore far behind truly We have entered unchartered waters there is no fixable Bering a lustiness takes over there is no helm Just a pervading looseness not unsettling but truly uncharacteristic for the coconscious must always Have a grip a grasp of what is where it is and every detail must be quantified now all senses are blown A storm is brewing its far reaches unknown but there is softness that excludes fear the overriding Thought is possibilities can be forged maximized eternalized thoughts are ghost like unknown entities They were formally known but now remain a mystery dislodged from thought bases that are not solid All is free association tantalizing in one sense then disconcerting in another what do I do with my mind Surly it has jumped off the track I could be bewildered if I could get a hold on the situation free flowing Unspoken but still distinctively saying volumes where is the slow button reams voluminous thoughts Are spewing into nothingness being lost I can’t keep up the discernible is mixed with eons and theorems Time and space is void of meaning the world here is elastic mass it convulses at will no parameters exist The only thing constant is high velocity change being in one place is impossible all is jumbled who stirred This caldron in my mind voice and pure thought are the same think it know it what burdensome lives we Live when it is all a tattered sail on rough seas we behold nothing know nothing in the extreme Romanticism blurts out sail for Trafalgar we are strangers in a plush gifted void try as we will there is No simple answers but we are a simple people truly the only time were are fit is when we are sound Asleep well then sleep on and I will do the same dreaming is therapeutic just think how crazy we would Be without it
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21
*Perches precariously on the edge of my Crippled consciousness Jealously and zealously guarding it Lest it strays to ‘unchartered waters’. To ostensibly **** time She around the clock Traverses the ‘bumpy’ uneven terrain Of my mindfulness leaving in her wake a gall aftertaste. She a beautiful apparition Skirting and strutting her stuff Boldly in my mind’s eye All this to my chagrin.*
0
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 7:08 AM UTC
My nightingale.
I lay in unfolded silence upon sheets that blushed roses on our flesh my quickening breath stuttering as you speak in finger-tip questions down the curve and valleys of my unchartered territories; now yours... I am without thought as the shiver of you teases me to the point of unleashing wildness that strains at each whimper, each moan you gather and toss wildly upon the liquid fire that I am... The sigh of you breaks down walls as I am thrown to stars in stroking wetness, the pleasure exquisitely tracing the lace of sweat upon lips pungent with desire sliding to dip in a dance of ecstasy... I thirst for you finding a hunger that borders on insatiable as the beast within rises voracious and demanding - grasping to draw you in, revel in my abandon and growl in the proof that you are mine... Staking my claim, I ride my nails down your back to clench your appetites driving me back and forth within each stain of musk as lusts rage to consume begins to defy the shattering love that you breathe into me And when all thought and breath have left me, when I am flung so effortless to the fury of your primal... I shatter.... In soft starlight and sapphire, crimson silk fluttering in the depths of each chasm and fold I am suffocated on the bliss of euphoric and I die each little death willingly in your arms I become as I am, gasping for tender breath wrapped in the steel and flesh of you crying for the need, the fruition of Us as you murmur tender on love-burnt flesh I am awakened as if newly made as you smile into me, gently kissing where you once ravaged and know It only gets better.....
0
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 5:05 PM UTC
Love Burnt:
I lay in unfolded silence upon sheets that blushed roses on our flesh my quickening breath stuttering as you speak in finger-tip questions down the curve and valleys of my unchartered territories; now yours... I am without thought as the shiver of you teases me to the point of unleashing wildness that strains at each whimper, each moan you gather and toss wildly upon the liquid fire that I am... The sigh of you breaks down walls as I am thrown to stars in stroking wetness, the pleasure exquisitely tracing the lace of sweat upon lips pungent with desire sliding to dip in a dance of ecstasy... I thirst for you finding a hunger that borders on insatiable as the beast within rises voracious and demanding - grasping to draw you in, revel in my abandon and growl in the proof that you are mine... Staking my claim, I ride my nails down your back to clench your appetites driving me back and forth within each stain of musk as lusts rage to consume begins to defy the shattering love that you breathe into me And when all thought and breath have left me, when I am flung so effortless to the fury of your primal... I shatter.... In soft starlight and sapphire, crimson silk fluttering in the depths of each chasm and fold I am suffocated on the bliss of euphoric and I die each little death willingly in your arms I become as I am, gasping for tender breath wrapped in the steel and flesh of you crying for the need, the fruition of Us as you murmur tender on love-burnt flesh I am awakened as if newly made as you smile into me, gently kissing where you once ravaged and know It only gets better.....
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55
I love mountains, and the deep sea but I love you, above all these you are my mountain. you are foggy, you are cold, unchartered terrain how come i can see you, and traverse across your deep brown eyes and the soft glaciers which are your lips you are colossal, you are vast but i envelope you, and you are enmeshed in me i spread myself thinly across you, protective, in love, protective. protective. so FUCKKING in love. I love mountains, and the deep sea but I love you, above all these you are the deep sea. i want to drown in you and all your enigmas i want to swim gingerly to your whirlpool YOU WILL ENGULF ME i want to christen you with balmy, muffled kisses with gentle caresses i will ENGULF YOU and i will skim across your surface just as the tension breaks
0
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 12:09 PM UTC
favorite things
Can you feel the caress of the Northern wind, as it screeches across the baron plateau of the anthropological crack and strokes the contours of your oily façade? The slippery blackness of this gale interferes with the propagation of ambivalent feminine intertwines. Herbal remedies have cast their fragrance into the arms of Ashtoreth. Therefore, you must now investigate the callous and empathic chords of my legitimacy, and I promise to blend my classical resonance with your deplorable soul. If this is a public inquiry, then I must set sail from the dock and traverse unchartered horizons, with my tank filled with the required fuel. Let us placate the earth, together as we unleash extravagant ceremonies of ****** ferocity. We have swam across the laughter of the Sea of Clouds in this lunar expression of divorce.
0
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 11:54 PM UTC
Meteorological Sensuality
The labyrinth of our mind In the labyrinth of our minds, the secrets of the brain still hide And maybe in the days of our lives, the answers we shall find. The key to our knowledge and our lost memories preside, In the basement of our unchartered minds, In our subconscious lost time. One day we shall find out all the secrets hidden within, The pantry of our minds kitchen, which creates our feelings. One day we shall realize how to spy the mysteries locked there in, The safe of our conscious and subconscious labyrinth. Our dreams and our nightmares are a glimpse at another wonder; The original wonders of the world are deep within us, to be plundered. We as humans shall take all we can get as we delve under, The skull of another human mind in search of a new treasure. What lies beneath the truth and the lies we all do speak? What lays hidden under the shell of our sanity or insanity? What will they think of next to invade our personal sanctuary? In the deepest recesses of our labyrinth, our brain, our memories. The doctors and nurses, the psychiatrists and psychologists, Are a fingertip away from knowing the reason for our existence. All we have left to discover is covered with the bone of our heads; The brains functions have been unraveled partly. Now we seek the rest. We wish to know all the answers, so we dig like archaeologists, Deep into the minds of the men, the women and the kids. One day our T.V. will be linked directly into our brain cells, So we can see the thoughts of our fellow humans and animals as well. We shall unlock all the mysteries of the human mind given time, But will we like what we see, deep within the labyrinth of our minds? (C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
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May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 4:49 AM UTC
The labyrinth of our mind
The labyrinth of our mind In the labyrinth of our minds, the secrets of the brain still hide And maybe in the days of our lives, the answers we shall find. The key to our knowledge and our lost memories preside, In the basement of our unchartered minds, In our subconscious lost time. One day we shall find out all the secrets hidden within, The pantry of our minds kitchen, which creates our feelings. One day we shall realize how to spy the mysteries locked there in, The safe of our conscious and subconscious labyrinth. Our dreams and our nightmares are a glimpse at another wonder; The original wonders of the world are deep within us, to be plundered. We as humans shall take all we can get as we delve under, The skull of another human mind in search of a new treasure. What lies beneath the truth and the lies we all do speak? What lays hidden under the shell of our sanity or insanity? What will they think of next to invade our personal sanctuary? In the deepest recesses of our labyrinth, our brain, our memories. The doctors and nurses, the psychiatrists and psychologists, Are a fingertip away from knowing the reason for our existence. All we have left to discover is covered with the bone of our heads; The brains functions have been unraveled partly. Now we seek the rest. We wish to know all the answers, so we dig like archaeologists, Deep into the minds of the men, the women and the kids. One day our T.V. will be linked directly into our brain cells, So we can see the thoughts of our fellow humans and animals as well. We shall unlock all the mysteries of the human mind given time, But will we like what we see, deep within the labyrinth of our minds? (C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
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30
It’s early, shutters yawn open drawing in an already spirited sun. I reluctantly roam an unchartered narrow maze of whitewashed walls. Fingers squeeze a mint mil Pesetas banknote and list, written in my mother’s stern and starchy hand. I am the outsider, inside and out. I inhale pine dust, bins and septic tanks, I exhale a huff of childhood hopelessness. Shadows startle me with machine gun Catalan. I didn’t hear the rumble of the water truck. Didn’t look right when I crossed the road. Didn’t thank the stranger who saved me, until now.
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Jan 8, 2021
Jan 8, 2021 at 10:09 AM UTC
Capdepera Stranger - 1983
*Thank you, thank you for loving me... for bearing the moments I went past the line... but mostly, thank you for finding me rudderless in the dark Sea of solitude... I'm no longer as lost as I used to be... you're my bearing, the south of the wife I want to return home to, the north star that sparkles on my mind,the honest East I trust and the far West carrying the answers to most of my puzzles and questions... You're the north north East that guides the winds of my heart and I've started raising the sails again, the masts seem too rotten to survive turbulent Seas but I'm willing to go against those rough waves and storms I'm progressively getting rid of my anchors, going far from the shores for there's more to find in the unchartered waters of your affection, reason enough to abandon the safety of my harbour and risk again you're the East-northeast whence cometh the journey birds of completeness that decorate the vast Ocean of my hitherto desolate soul, The East-southeast that carries the spate of passion and inspiration propelling me into this man I have always wanted to be, the South-southeast to discovering ultimate bliss and peace , You're a South-southwest where I found the cure to my bruises and the West-southwest reflecting the ambient eternity I desire You're also the West-Northwest of a divine future you and I deserve You're even the North-Northwest dock where rests the once wrecked yacht of my bitter past and chaining experience that you've tirelessly fixed with your endless breathtaking love you're my bailer and life without you was my tenacious Jailer you're everything to me without which I'm a totally lost sailor you speak straight to my heart even if we're a million miles apart and I doubt anything in this life will ever counter that for besides being my rudder, you lifted me out of doldrums you're my ladder,you saved me from the splintering tantrums*
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May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 1:35 PM UTC
My Rudder
*Thank you, thank you for loving me... for bearing the moments I went past the line... but mostly, thank you for finding me rudderless in the dark Sea of solitude... I'm no longer as lost as I used to be... you're my bearing, the south of the wife I want to return home to, the north star that sparkles on my mind,the honest East I trust and the far West carrying the answers to most of my puzzles and questions... You're the north north East that guides the winds of my heart and I've started raising the sails again, the masts seem too rotten to survive turbulent Seas but I'm willing to go against those rough waves and storms I'm progressively getting rid of my anchors, going far from the shores for there's more to find in the unchartered waters of your affection, reason enough to abandon the safety of my harbour and risk again you're the East-northeast whence cometh the journey birds of completeness that decorate the vast Ocean of my hitherto desolate soul, The East-southeast that carries the spate of passion and inspiration propelling me into this man I have always wanted to be, the South-southeast to discovering ultimate bliss and peace , You're a South-southwest where I found the cure to my bruises and the West-southwest reflecting the ambient eternity I desire You're also the West-Northwest of a divine future you and I deserve You're even the North-Northwest dock where rests the once wrecked yacht of my bitter past and chaining experience that you've tirelessly fixed with your endless breathtaking love you're my bailer and life without you was my tenacious Jailer you're everything to me without which I'm a totally lost sailor you speak straight to my heart even if we're a million miles apart and I doubt anything in this life will ever counter that for besides being my rudder, you lifted me out of doldrums you're my ladder,you saved me from the splintering tantrums*
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30
Follow the invious paths of my mind Overshadowed by oaks of insecurity Step not into shadow's darkness For those paths are still unchartered Go by the grace of your God Pray your protection be withstanding What lies ahead may be disturbing Should you quench your desire To probe further Let me offer a standardized warning "Contents may be unsuitable to some viewers." With all your senses Placed on high alert Stay on the paving stones! Enter knowing you have been warned! High pitched screams of despair Flow through the air like wingless birds While the pave stones float in a thick river of blood Deformed anomalies of bodies parade in fields of dying brown grass Playing instruments to the tune of the screaming Mixed breed animals devour one another Between minutes of giving birth Washing down their meal by sipping at the river Thunder roars intermittently As lightning strikes unsuspecting souls Leaving charred, black, smoldering zombies roaming This infinite land A drawn out cackling of a deranged hyena hybrid Splits the air and is heard over the thunder and screams Resonating over and over again upon straining ears As he sits and looks up at a blood red moon The aroma of half eaten carcasses Acrid and powerful causing eyes to tear And nose to burn as if dipped in sulphuric acid Creating the feel of skin peeling off flesh As the cool wind causes irritation To exposed flesh, you scratch and rub Vigorously rubbing away your existence Until you no longer think of staying on the path Stumbling, agitated, confused and unwillingly Into the fields, tripping over bony remains Of explorers before you
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Jul 9, 2010
Jul 9, 2010 at 1:58 PM UTC
A Warning To The Mind Reader
Follow the invious paths of my mind Overshadowed by oaks of insecurity Step not into shadow's darkness For those paths are still unchartered Go by the grace of your God Pray your protection be withstanding What lies ahead may be disturbing Should you quench your desire To probe further Let me offer a standardized warning "Contents may be unsuitable to some viewers." With all your senses Placed on high alert Stay on the paving stones! Enter knowing you have been warned! High pitched screams of despair Flow through the air like wingless birds While the pave stones float in a thick river of blood Deformed anomalies of bodies parade in fields of dying brown grass Playing instruments to the tune of the screaming Mixed breed animals devour one another Between minutes of giving birth Washing down their meal by sipping at the river Thunder roars intermittently As lightning strikes unsuspecting souls Leaving charred, black, smoldering zombies roaming This infinite land A drawn out cackling of a deranged hyena hybrid Splits the air and is heard over the thunder and screams Resonating over and over again upon straining ears As he sits and looks up at a blood red moon The aroma of half eaten carcasses Acrid and powerful causing eyes to tear And nose to burn as if dipped in sulphuric acid Creating the feel of skin peeling off flesh As the cool wind causes irritation To exposed flesh, you scratch and rub Vigorously rubbing away your existence Until you no longer think of staying on the path Stumbling, agitated, confused and unwillingly Into the fields, tripping over bony remains Of explorers before you
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42
I am floundering in a sea of doubts; in a mire of recriminations and guilt - for having crossed the border into the unchartered waters of individuality. Suddenly an Ave Maria haunting my room in the isolated depths of the night prevents my scream from developing and startling the entire village.
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Jul 5, 2010
Jul 5, 2010 at 7:03 AM UTC
I am floundering
Bedazzled Dreamer Put the long boat in the deep waters of the mind the calm peaceful knowing all is glowing we glide not Knowing where were going the subconscious will be our guide dividing the two worlds the quiet Submersible is wild anything may be floating in these depths we have left shore far behind truly We have entered unchartered waters there is no fixable Bering a lustiness takes over there is no helm Just a pervading looseness not unsettling but truly uncharacteristic for the coconscious must always Have a grip a grasp of what is where it is and every detail must be quantified now all senses are blown A storm is brewing its far reaches unknown but there is softness that excludes fear the overriding Thought is possibilities can be forged maximized eternalized thoughts are ghost like unknown entities They were formally known but now remain a mystery dislodged from thought bases that are not solid All is free association tantalizing in one sense then disconcerting in another what do I do with my mind Surly it has jumped off the track I could be bewildered if I could get a hold on the situation free flowing Unspoken but still distinctively saying volumes where is the slow button reams voluminous thoughts Are spewing into nothingness being lost I can’t keep up the discernible is mixed with eons and theorems Time and space is void of meaning the world here is elastic mass it convulses at will no parameters exist The only thing constant is high velocity change being in one place is impossible all is jumbled who stirred This caldron in my mind voice and pure thought are the same think it know it what burdensome lives we Live when it is all a tattered sail on rough seas we behold nothing know nothing in the extreme Romanticism blurts out sail for Trafalgar we are strangers in a plush gifted void try as we will there is No simple answers but we are a simple people truly the only time were are fit is when we are sound Asleep well then sleep on and I will do the same dreaming is therapeutic just think how crazy we would Be without it
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Aug 29, 2012
Aug 29, 2012 at 10:40 AM UTC
Bsdazzled Dreamer
Bedazzled Dreamer Put the long boat in the deep waters of the mind the calm peaceful knowing all is glowing we glide not Knowing where were going the subconscious will be our guide dividing the two worlds the quiet Submersible is wild anything may be floating in these depths we have left shore far behind truly We have entered unchartered waters there is no fixable Bering a lustiness takes over there is no helm Just a pervading looseness not unsettling but truly uncharacteristic for the coconscious must always Have a grip a grasp of what is where it is and every detail must be quantified now all senses are blown A storm is brewing its far reaches unknown but there is softness that excludes fear the overriding Thought is possibilities can be forged maximized eternalized thoughts are ghost like unknown entities They were formally known but now remain a mystery dislodged from thought bases that are not solid All is free association tantalizing in one sense then disconcerting in another what do I do with my mind Surly it has jumped off the track I could be bewildered if I could get a hold on the situation free flowing Unspoken but still distinctively saying volumes where is the slow button reams voluminous thoughts Are spewing into nothingness being lost I can’t keep up the discernible is mixed with eons and theorems Time and space is void of meaning the world here is elastic mass it convulses at will no parameters exist The only thing constant is high velocity change being in one place is impossible all is jumbled who stirred This caldron in my mind voice and pure thought are the same think it know it what burdensome lives we Live when it is all a tattered sail on rough seas we behold nothing know nothing in the extreme Romanticism blurts out sail for Trafalgar we are strangers in a plush gifted void try as we will there is No simple answers but we are a simple people truly the only time were are fit is when we are sound Asleep well then sleep on and I will do the same dreaming is therapeutic just think how crazy we would Be without it
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22
When trees out in the open field Become covered From heavy snow Limbs start to droop and Break And some how speak to me When blue/gray shadows emerge When the weeping begins and ends So I Stop here now and stand still Frozen It’s dark Blackbirds sit and stare, It’s not time Though I climb over high walls Wanting, To pass this time again When unchartered roads are taken When white woven pearl doors open I am sunken Yet saved able to dream With no Regrets Of this sudden defeat When the ocean accepts my ashes
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Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 8:18 PM UTC
The Delay
Soar higher and think beyond the skies Searching for the unknown May land you in familiar territory Keep the wings aligned with the wind Nature’s guide will take you along its path The worldly binds chains us to the ground Clipping our wings, not allowing us to fly Heavy as lead, we drown in sea of expectations Completely drenched, the body soaked to the bones Lying there along the sidelines, waiting for the sunshine To dry the body and soul of all the limitations Gaining consciousness and power from the Sun Looking beyond the sky, the unknown looks familiar Sometimes unchartered path is more inviting To a traveler like us, helping us to reach our destination
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Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 9:27 AM UTC
Dream Beyond
Your clear eyes, a sea of accumulated raindrops, started to ripple as I touched the surface. In your depths I dived; neither sinking nor losing air— never drowning despite the rough waves of unchartered waters. With no fear of trenches as deep as the Mariana's, or fear of undercurrents as mysterious as the Bermuda's, I sought further to know why I felt more familiar in the water than on land. Floating, swimming, breathing underwater; I stayed warm in your gaze, in the calm of you. I found myself at home when I looked into your eyes.
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Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 9:03 PM UTC
blue east