You are clawed at him like a

Red hot
Las Vegas Jack-***
Lobster
"Persuasive Mentor"
Sling-shot
Underlie Supervisor
Skin softer He's Mr.
Softee

He molded me
to build me
Not to love me
So planned to
Deceive me
Fish desires
Mermaids
Flirt their tails
underwater
emails

Like the Greek word

"Synecdoche" we call

French hot bread
Brioche
His mustache
Underlie
Attache case

You're over his
Head

"Now" face to face

Fly••• First- Love- Yourself

Why? W- wait like H 4 hell
Y- Yell!!

Who's going to tell

I was head clicked
heels
Watered down
my shrimp

Enjoy your now
"Big Gulp'
Help wanted

He got me under

his skin
Pulp Fiction
The rain in Spain
stays
manly
in the lie diction

Wha?ever he got to me

So erotically smooth skin

The next of kin

Aromantic overly
romantic
Like the
Interstellar

It felt like
Marlon Brando
Ditto
Hello!

A= hot brandy with

Stella
waterfront

Being upfront skin kissed

The espresso I got you intense
dark under the mood weather
Cold-Hot-Mood swings she got

what life can bring better
Menopause or Men on pause

Am I hooked?
Another eye
full look
The more
four more

I got to you I see
It comes in three's to
die for the need
I say more

That part of you
bare-mitten
So smitten

The skin chilled fire fit


Moms scent and you felt her

touching you her mind
and yours

Cut out hearts
Red Riding hood
Grandmas out of bed
What was said
Tough skin what
big brown eyes
Looking mad
That's what U got blowing
in the wind
on her skin to begone
Girl is gone
One call Jailbird


Our eyes leave the world
blind but speak more words

you opened up the blinds

Hot desired I got you, babe,

How in a spiritual sense

Was this in your character

by the quintessence


Or always a coincidence

You were being raised

Why is life so much to crave

Like your the side order
and he she and fee fi fun


The main entrance
Starfish dish the
Goddess sun
Undertaste
The dinner mint
gave her refreshing
rush

Fifty times being burned

Over just a bite on my neck

of French fries

Not so overly touched by your lies

But you do have amazing eyes

Traveling through a skin-tight

maze the light fixture retracing

How tough skinned you are

I got to give you some credit

This is not the website

How you read into me

Like "Reddit"
I got it

So many time you have

done it lies

I never planned to get

you under my skin
Who wants to die

*** rebound always
Goodbye

Those fifties those dames

hot club smoking and
jamming

But feeling the tightrope
Fishnet
hooked
Supernatural spooked

I don't see you smiling

I couldn't breathe I felt

like choking

The devil own scripture

Our eyes perceive as the spies of

Boom explosion the hunger gets

intense face to face

Like we are the
TV on a binge

You cannot tune us but the
hot flame

can never tame us

Embedded by what we see

And touch-Oh! Me
U-C who would want to
go through this
2 B Me
Waiting for something
Like the Freebird I am
the Robin

How the earth confines us

Who is the one who

got something on us

Somes deep feelings

The Cole Porter

I got you under my skin

Someone on the pull
arouses

But he knows your
pleasure but where is the
promises
On the premises
He stacked her roses

One smell he got
The words spelled on U

He said with an
Under__line

" My Rose"
  Underlie
  My skin
  Smells brilliantly
  Like the eye of an
  Apple pie

1453

A Counterfeit—a Plated Person—
I would not be—
Whatever strata of Iniquity
My Nature underlie—
Truth is good Health—and Safety, and the Sky.
How meagre, what an Exile—is a Lie,
And Vocal—when we die—

Man-Moth: Newspaper misprint for "mammoth."
      
          Here, above,
cracks in the buldings are filled with battered moonlight.
The whole shadow of Man is only as big as his hat.
It lies at his feet like a circle for a doll to stand on,
and he makes an inverted pin, the point magnetized to the moon.
He does not see the moon; he observes only her vast properties,
feeling the queer light on his hands, neither warm nor cold,
of a temperature impossible to records in thermometers.

          But when the Man-Moth
pays his rare, although occasional, visits to the surface,
the moon looks rather different to him.  He emerges
from an opening under the edge of one of the sidewalks
and nervously begins to scale the faces of the buildings.
He thinks the moon is a small hole at the top of the sky,
proving the sky quite useless for protection.
He trembles, but must investigate as high as he can climb.

          Up the façades,
his shadow dragging like a photographer's cloth behind him
he climbs fearfully, thinking that this time he will manage
to push his small head through that round clean opening
and be forced through, as from a tube, in black scrolls on the light.
(Man, standing below him, has no such illusions.)
But what the Man-Moth fears most he must do, although
he fails, of course, and falls back scared but quite unhurt.

          Then he returns
to the pale subways of cement he calls his home. He flits,
he flutters, and cannot get aboard the silent trains
fast enough to suit him.  The doors close swiftly.
The Man-Moth always seats himself facing the wrong way
and the train starts at once at its full, terrible speed,
without a shift in gears or a gradation of any sort.
He cannot tell the rate at which he travels backwards.

          Each night he must
be carried through artificial tunnels and dream recurrent dreams.
Just as the ties recur beneath his train, these underlie
his rushing brain.  He does not dare look out the window,
for the third rail, the unbroken draught of poison,
runs there beside him. He regards it as a disease
he has inherited the susceptibility to.  He has to keep
his hands in his pockets, as others must wear mufflers.

          If you catch him,
hold up a flashlight to his eye.  It's all dark pupil,
an entire night itself, whose haired horizon tightens
as he stares back, and closes up the eye.  Then from the lids
one tear, his only possession, like the bee's sting, slips.
Slyly he palms it, and if you're not paying attention
he'll swallow it.  However, if you watch, he'll hand it over,
cool as from underground springs and pure enough to drink.

Never have I been the best at hiding how I feel.  There is no peaceful game.  My face reveals the truth.  Never to be doubted.  Nothing left to wonder.  Still, I reign it in.  I stifle my reality in an attempt to keep you close.  So tender-hearted beneath that thickening shell.  The shell I penetrated somehow.  Once you found me in your heart, you pushed with all your might.  Trying to get me out.  I cannot be budged. Yet, I am not free to love you.  You refuse to let me be yours in theory or practice.  You love me, but not by choice.  Fear of the possibility of pain keeps you at bay.  Yet saving yourself from pain has deemed my own inconsequential.  For running from me pulls out my heart.  

Pushing me away
What's best, or just what's easy
Burns holes in my soul

Not one to take the easy way out.  Suffering to love you.  There is no expectation of love requited.  There is nothing but a dream, part memory part wishful thinking.  Hot needles still poke at me, slowly breaking me down.  Weakening my very being with the sharp jabs of stinging words or careless action, or worse...absolute inaction.  I have learned to stop expecting the "Morning Sunshine" or "'Night Darlin'" that used to brighten each day.  Those thoughtless things, the tiny nothing things that let me know I was on your mind.  So far from nothing those nothings were.  Days and nights seem incomplete in their absence.  Weaning to make your days bearable makes mine unendurable, empty, and melancholy has come to underlie all things.  

Joy of love melts ice
Heat smothered by a tear cloud
Threadbare soul survives

Challenges faced sideways leave blind spots. Choices made by indecision.  Letting mistakes be made, watching as they choose wrong. I see the truth and know what I know.  Everything is aligned for my own misfortune.  For as a bystander, I lay no claims.  Anything I do will hasten the inevitable.  So I let the weaning drip down to nothing.  Reluctantly I watch as you disappear with my heart in hand.  I stood firm as you ran away in place.  You turned to me, you needed me, you loved me.  As the clouds dissipate and the sun creeps over the horizon, With the blue sky I turn to mist. Slowly fading to the past.  A ghost of could've been, used to be, and never was

**Surrender takes time
                        Reluctantly relinquished
                                               I will fight no more

Down forlorn cafe this sweet latino chick
always serves  me with a smile
I underlie it with an order of chicken noodles
One for me and now invisible friend

There is a lonely man in a big blue box

He says that he hates goodbyes.

Most people are disbelieving, they scoff:

They think that he outright lies.

Others sometimes wonder:

What past events underlie

To make this one Time Lord dislike goodbyes?

He's always alone, this man.

His companions are long gone.

Every time he says hello,

Every time he crashes into a lawn,

Every time he helps or saves,

Every time he meets someone:

There's always a goodbye.

He had a family, all the same.

Yet they are gone now.

He had his Gallifreyan friends

With whom he would play games.

He had his whole planet with its orange skies

But it went up in equally orange flames.

There's always a goodbye.

Some of his companions are still around.

That could be enough for him to smile.

For him to grin wide and say, "Yay!"

But then he remembers that others are lost.

How many people, he couldn't say.

So when this Time Lord dreams

He thinks of a wonderful, happy day.

In which all his friends are here to stay:

And he can still "vworp" away to Gallifrey.

The dark and dead of night,
Behind tall, black gates that shed no light.
A once in a full moon hanging in the sky,
Leading the way where underlie,
Bodies thought to be dead, but are more alive,
Living all around you, as strangers in disguise.

And walking through the cemetery, over crackling, fallen leaves,
Past peaceful, resting strangers, labeled as just another one that grieves.
Seeing headstones shimmer names of the dead,
While dew covered grass hide where tears have shed,
Over bodies that no longer lie underneath,
But haunt us in the comfort of home and in our sleep,
And they’re watching you stand at their gave; watching you weep.

Never before has such a lie been received as the truth
As an I.O.U. that's masked within the words of I love you
For she would not be here without the chivalry of he
And she will show gratitude inside her misery

It happened and it stayed and she said she would correct it
And more time passed 'till she became complacent in her perspective
Until she found herself stuck between a rock and a heartbreak
The man who provided everything in return for a heart to take

He built his world around her with all the wishes finite
Not knowing why his love would stray away throughout the night
And he knew but refused to know, she told but refused to say
And so it carried on in the tediousness of days

And who will learn and who will crack and which side first will cry
Learning secrets and questions that seem to underlie
For love was meant to represent more than a toleration
The knight who saved her from the beasts and guaranteed her incarceration

Oh, to be a sad balloon... and sail the wayward wind alone
To leave this troubled world behind, embark upon the vast unknown
Yet somewhere.. I can hear the soulful song that loneliness intones
I realize that there are things your heart, and mine…
could not condone
It seems that I may so escape my darkness.. in the shining sky
Perhaps to drift away in blue, where sorrow fails to underlie
I hope you realize, within my dreams… I never saw you cry
I rise to sad uncertainty, with cigarette and eau de vie

I wait for the approaching light, and hope to witness healing dawn
The sun however, fails to so provide what hearts depend upon
But I suppose the wind has seen to ordination .. love foregone
To leave my spirit resolute, embodiment of hope withdrawn
These thoughts that crowd my mind at times, have left me strangely ill at ease
Though I recall my dreams of love, do not misunderstand me please
My aspirations lie above, and there are many thoughts of these
Until my sorrow once again, arrives upon the savage breeze

To leave me here in desolation, endeavoring to soar the skies
To wonder, when will truth contend... dispatch the dread and dire lies
Can I have hope of happiness?... well I don’t know...but I surmise
My sorrow stands as barricade, for tears I’ve placed there in your eyes
So I aspire to ride the wind, out far beyond the waning moon
To leave disorder furthermost, where love and kindness
then commune
So I may know the many reasons, hearts were broken... much too soon
I bid farewell to radiance,
in a wretched ode to a sad balloon...

Dean Evans
12-31-14

In my forty-sixth year
I have learned to stay clear
of the pitfalls which once
befell me

Lessons I've learned
as the years burned
have turned out
to warn me

the voice in my head
quells urges to tread
where once  it seemed
I ran blindly

perspectives  have changed
like  land after the rains
have rushed by and scoured
it dry

feelings have changed
as I watch with dismay
society falling around me

the lines of the past
no longer last
blurring to a grey
hazy outline

it is claimed to be
kinder and gentler to thee
but a savageness
does underlie

all that remains
of the kindness that's claimed
cheap fascia, wrecked by the rain

gentleness does apply
to those who ask why
ignorant of their surrounds

a kick in the rear
still it appears
is truly a step forward

as I have related
these feelings belated
again the changes occur

to all I must say
thank you this day
for reading the
words from my soul

Silence and shapeless images
Dancing naked on the edge of a sword
We are spinning our breath into meager sediments
And what’s left are my only relationships
Is this my retaliation against the blades of oblivion
Why must I always be eliminated right before illumination
Or the combustion of concrete symbols like carbon atoms
As if my soul was undergoing oxidation
It's unconscious really that the instant we need to be aware
We take a break from concentration and fall into silent reverie
A shining monotony as the moon
Lights the way to our observation towers
We are heavy as daylight and lonely as an empty windowsill  
Whenever the sunlight shines luxuriously upon it
We are human beings doing but just barely used to using
Our unlimited and never-ending powers of imagination
If it's not elation that makes us escape our innocent privations
Then must we be immaculately nascent
Or veritably complacent and understated
In our jogging shoes and self effacement strategies
You have the blues and the reds too
The vibrations echo and they become your only decoration
Mellow and sedated we escape our approximations
By just getting a little more naked and familiar with our shadows
We shake our shoulders and shift our weight back towards the basics
As we get a little older we fold our best napkins in our pockets
And reposition the sockets and the clocks by our nightstands
To tell time just how we would like it to be
Exactly the way it was right before we died to ourselves
Are you understanding my odd way of speaking
Listening to the rhyming water as humid arias fall short of permutations
We are negotiating with contemplation’s namesake
Underlying visitations from our highest escalators
Concentrate and digest, we move forward
And caress the feathery fingers you have bared too often
We are clever and undefinable formulations
Monkeying around with the substrate of our eradication
I speak elated seances and fancy equations
Which underlie our negated vituperations
A Motley array of monkey business
Fizzles in the vaporous mist
It's an evaporative way of saying i love you
We are tender and tangential
We are offended by the examples you forget to administer
In your haste you restate the laziness of a piece of paper towel
To reply to your confessions
Underneath the premonitions you make
Is something that tastes quite a bit like logic

Sorry, I no more seek your suns
Nor moons
Yes, your suns I loved very much

Your passionate sun
Around which my planets would run
Your cool moons
Shedding long leaves
On my glistening lagoon
I remember
All my swoons
From wine in your spoon

But your nerves
Went for new curves
It happens
Very often
Our rivers do not like the same course
Especially when you endorse
Flames of passion
And we are rivers

You developed a new craze
In a psychedelic haze
In that crazy spree
You started neglecting me
Initially I got lonely
Missed you terribly
My ocean frozen I was in a depression
Of the morbid flower
In pale blue showers
From the two windows
Morose under compulsion
For many a day, month and year
Irritation in the mug of bear
Tearing my spirit
Pulverizing all my lyrics
Landslide in Mirik

But again all rivers are resilient
If you stop its normal course
It gathers unexpected force
The remorse underlie

I grew seasoned without you
I was out of the bottomless blues
Though could not but reflect on the cues
In the morning dew
And sighed too
But I learned to live agile and alert
Brushing aside the frozen heart
Gave up on hashish
Cleaned the debris
Started looking smart

Now I have travelled a long path
No more remorse no wrath
No smokes of the aftermath
Now I understand
The diamonds of life
Love matters much
Especially in the flowers of touch
But when you ignore
It does not matter
I have got my poems of freedom
Your walls can never ruffle them

Many a flame, brightens the sky

Such events to re-enact

A plot in vain that would underlie

A pre-determined pact



Brought up as a Catholic child

Beliefs that would not wane

The distinct view of Protestants

Reflecting royal reign



The disapproving treatment then

Catholic Priests and all

Of secret church services

Hidden holes – no fall



A venture to the land of Spain

Discover and to fight

A brave and learned soldier

Gunpowder to alight



Plans devised, against the king

Thomas Winter’s plot

Fawkes informed and now assigned

Such tales were not forgot



A secret meet within the Inn

Robert Catesby lead

A gang adjoined as one to swear

Our plans will go ahead



A parliamentary opening

Imminently placed

For barrels rolled into the night

Hidden without trace



A letter sent to Monteagle

Reward for such a warn

Uncovered act, to light a fuse

The truth of which be sworn



Hidden in the cellar below

O’ Guy to now arrest

A plotters display of guilty heads

The ending of their quest



Written by Geraldine Taylor ©

Concentrate and digest, we move forward
And caress the feathery fingers you have bared too often
We are clever and suggest undefinable formulations
Monkeying around with the substrate of our eradication
I speak elated seances and fancy equations
Which underlie our negated vituperations
A motley array of monkey business
Fizzles in the vaporous mist
It's a precipitous way of saying i love you
We are tender and tangential
We are offended by the examples you forget to administer
In your haste you restate the laziness of a piece of paper towel
To reply to your lengthy confessions
Underneath the premonitions you make
Is something that sounds and tastes quite a bit like honey

In fact, in the evening, the military acting of a fat
young woman, zero, or I,   Mason's big breasted women,
magic giving the continuity of benefits and orders
to \ green and generous service,          and their stupidity
and the fame Of a grain of light's limitation,
I stopped the summer Dragon Crystal Revolution,
Strapr Gun is a Jewish concern, its like a furnace inside her underwear.
After listening to the air at the Chinese rally, |||
the point of the finger's daughter's lawsuit
said a good life like a warm l=wife, thin hair, many rulers,
John, lover and much of the Australian mother.
By eating **** ceremony prayers,           the quality of life
is usually green. I will talk about the shadow
river in the city.
Burke played an important role. This Torres was the name
of "customer *** acting organization" of customer service.
Cup world and world First,      the Greek language product
is English (North Korea). what about me?
Girls read what they want to learn, what is the woman's legacy?
Women, young, old, Russia, CPA Germany |||||||
Valentine's Day ||| Youth game and culture illusion, Dark Rococo 2.2
(French call to activity), Homer's two ammonia tanks.
First of all, the history of Sarah Walker, Servant
and business-body maps in each Middle East
already knows ||  HKK's English and Greek (right) children, years,
women, young people, the elderly, women and similar lines I will. |||
And among the other members of Valentine's Day.
Pattern 1: Multiple nouns. In ambiguous dark days,
especially in yards after young women police were killed
and Brkola Sarah 2.2 (model. Technically, some other common
examples and patterns. sample: "There is a new paradigm
of public art
in this country",     "model, pattern, example, sample, template,
standard, prototype, alketope"                 "Why can't you decide
the value of the remaining paradigm?"
Global insight based on the principles and methodology
of specific science subjects "Discover universal gravity of science paradigm" 2. A collection of linguistic objects that play
mutually exclusive special text a creative role.
UK decision makers make patterns: We can say "books"
or "his books", but "his books" All forms that underlie
specific verbs, nouns, adjectives, tables of the same combination
and presentation (Latin, Greek models,
and other ignorable languages ​​of traditional grammar)
will work. Origin: Late 15th century: From Latin Pardosi,
to paradigm + decanui, from paradise's side to Latin. |Polynesia)
2 lights up. Christ, Middle East, Participant Safety
Warning Body Beverly is Greek and English (left)
over 2 years old? Is it necessary? Good night,
want to see a good night, what is a gift for a woman?
Young and old women's CPA women, Russia, other cities in Germany || Valentine's Day ||||| Wall