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"undark" poems
Sometimes I forget and the bells are unrung Prayers unsaid Hymns unsung Sometimes I forget and the dirt is unstirred Sky unrained Birds unheard Sometimes I forget and the worms are unfed Bough unblown Leaves unshed Sometimes I forget and your face is unframed Bed unseen Stone unnamed Sometimes I forget and your voice is unstopped Flowers uncut Life uncropped Sometimes I forget and my smile is unfeigned Nights undark Days unpained
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May 15, 2019
May 15, 2019 at 9:38 AM UTC
Exequy
And you firm and buttressed gorgeous scarlet your health,like venus i timid and glut upon, is also a god. harder than smooth and softer than rough. a cool like steam and hot like summers wings. a bird, charming and immense she's nothing compared to you noble to you t o you there is nary a season more supple or lovely than the undark shout of your plain and spectacular plume of resolute arms on your shoulders on your bones your muscles on them thy skin who i dimple most commonly on saturnday mornings when you peak beveled luscious havoc in my brave and capricious bed and you tousle my senses byTheFastStaggerOfYourMarvelous lips bounding pink and flush madrigals in the infinite cavern of my very and very smallest h e a rt
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Mar 2, 2011
Mar 2, 2011 at 9:40 AM UTC
And you firm
I am artsem issue Issue not from goodsex Unperson unfit for ownlife Think strict bellyfeel Doubleplus undark Rectify misprint in oldthink Blackwhite Ref. joycamp issue Not fullwise goodthinker Of The Golden Country
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Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 3:21 PM UTC
Blackwhite
i love you there is something undark more unseemingly possible to speak which makes your soul– it the noose which hangs by all the nights and days to be rough to be wholly of hard and unhard made; it want it to touch (as inside touches) each small and trembling ****** of me; and i want it to feel (as valkyries feel) hurt beautiful ugly and strong.
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Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 9:06 PM UTC
Untitled
Death, O’ you all consuming notion: Idea; intractable, implacable void. As you are I see not clearly yet I see a life made up of the stuff of myth. With the narrow thinking of a man— Achaean footsoldiers marching to glory— I ponder your immensity, think Not too clearly for the sake of sanity, Because in fact I can think no more clearly. For your sake, I say, I have wandered. I have traveled dust and roads that stretch lifetimes And that capture moments fleeting in From great dusty horizons beyond the brink. The dust, I think, I speak of last, The road I speak of first. Yet in no particular order is life So constrained; nor, by consequence, is death. Yet O’, to you, I give my all, My heart, my fear, anguish and pain, I give all to you, If only to supplicate you at the knees, say “I am not ready yet, do not rip up the void.” Yet O’, do you laugh, and you do, And a pity it is that I be at your knees, For you are a wand’ring, indiscriminate beast, And you take life as you may please. Raise an auspicious eye to the venerable shape. His head is there, but hollow eyes Do make up the void of his sight. And a sinister look is there. Raise an auspicious eye to the undark’ned mirror; The eyes show a deep glist’ning light, From deepest and remotest corners, Where life is not that way.
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May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 5:29 PM UTC
Death, O' to You
the said girl most pain from deliberate comely lips and there was almostsummer light minutely sprawled in precisely slats of dark then undark (a how many i can't recall, but) in just under wear(covers) she two legs skinnyawkward eyes than greener forests effused some small wetness some little fragile some frail shining (and my coat scratched my neck was wool and ) whipped at my thigh through suddenly door swung shut escaping almost its white vice
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Oct 6, 2012
Oct 6, 2012 at 3:23 PM UTC
Untitled