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Descovia Jul 2022
The time will come
Where my words will
forever remain as unforbidden memories
Left by those that remember
me from our legacy in creation.
Wielding the pen is a concept
a complex human as myself
will never achieve the skill-set to master.
It's a calling for me to wield justice and harmony
My time to equip the sword, will be my destiny soon.
I'm not afraid of the battle ahead.
I have slayed demons stronger than my own
Fought against my alter ego and argued with my conscious for answers
Witnessed guardian angels endure tragic falls.

The pen is mightier than the sword
The sword completes the point and cuts down the objective differently
I am not afraid to die protecting the world I love
It's all a cost for new age peace & awakening on the other side
I will not continue a cycle of hatred!
_ I love every part of you and it's worth fighting for_
I appreciate all of you for pushing me.
Motivating me. Inspiring me. Completing me.
In every imaginable way to be the best of me.
A stronger father. Advanced writer. A healer amongst all souls.
Kamini Jun 2010
This is the place where faeries sleep, down,
by the river burbling over mossy boulders, beside
the pink Rhododendron caressed by the sun.
Where I wait, feeling my wanting,
my longing as I meet the Beloved.

The light is everywhere, shimmering
on the wings of a bumblebee as it swings by
lazily unaware of my desire rising from the root
effervescent like the bubbles chasing
each other on the surface of the water.

So alive,
so exciting,
so exquisite,
so magical,
so perfect,
so NOW.
This meeting
this touching
this connecting
this tasting
this falling...

This falling
truly, madly, deeply in
love with this moment,
this tender, fragile, faltering
moment that is me.

This exquisite Eden that I have
uncovered at my core,
this awakening of the unforbidden
so luscious, so delicious in it’s invitation
to taste it’s sweet aliveness that
my heart has abandoned all shame,
and is lost in the lust,
blown open in wonder
at the awesome,
the indescribable
thrill of this dance,
this movement
toward death.

Each moment so precious,
each moment  a jewel,
each moment in which
I am alive, AWAKE and wanting.

This is the place where faeries sleep.
Down, by the river.
Gidleigh, 30 May 2009
John W. Mick Mar 2010
The Garden

Paradise is lost
The sun is fallen
Truth is known
Yet its way is obscured
Bitter harvests now replace
Immaculate conception
And tears flow, from eyes
That willed to see
There is no victory in the outter realms
No reward in desolation
Oh to return from whence we have fallen
To taste of fruit unforbidden
The garden has grown barren
And its hedgerow high
Who can restore its splendor
Who is worthy
I know none…..
CMD Feb 2015
9.
Tall grass not yet touched by
dew observe.
Longing to reach the unforbidden.
To glide between atmospheres without
stopping to breathe.
As if that breath will steal what
cannot be stolen.

Hoping their presence will not
break the silence they find absolute.

Pickpocket the sky they will like a field
mouse with a crumb of
salted *******.

They shall not judge
what cannot be touched.
Just praise and absorb.

For what cannot be touched by
lavender hands can be felt by a rose soul.
MARROWS OF TIME

Walk with me in the valleys of green
That comes to me in darken dreams;
Watch the raven feed on the dead,
those who has lost their heads,
Look, and see what Dark Angel brings
that has darkened wings;
He likes to make bleed.
Oh, why does he have to be so mean?
Once he lived in a fair stylish place
Where love was always given,
Where sins were forgiven,
He once given his heart,
But with time love has taken him for a ride,
Now, he stands in quicksand,
While his heart sinks as he grieved,
Words of true darkness sharpened the sword
That cut him deep;
So, now he wants everyone to feel is inter pains,
Where his love is now in the golden grave,
Ancient witches have taken all his love away,
Now he walks around in scorching agony,
In ancient time, he has lost his mind,
Dark Angel will always be curst,
And every gentle rose will be dried
the roses will turn to ashes
of the unforbidden love,
In his ancient love of sweet days,
All that has passed away;
Wandered of true love has been lost,
In the ancient green valleys;
Where the graves of true love in ancient days
Will always be lost into darken dreams
until the Light shines on all who sees,
through the windows of the true believer’s eyes
will see that shining light,
the spirits will sing songs
that never has been sung before,
on the pearls of time the ruby sea will glow
where the ships will sail,
and the slaves of the wounded will be healed,
doors of visions will be open,
the deaf ears will hear,
and God will whip away all their tears,
Oh, Enoch and all the ancient slaves
Will come out of the grave,
But until the darkness will be.
Where the blind could never see,
Souls are lost into the sea,
Where the dusty dead lost their heads,
In to the marrow of time.

Poetic Judy Emery © 2017
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Judy Emery
I-sun Sep 2020
And life is another thing should be passed,
After the red light of traffic jam.

🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻
Melissa Aug 2018
I’ve meet you about a million times
Even though you can only meet a person once

I’ve dreamed about you all my life for the chance
That I won't wake up

We both know the stars wouldn't aligned
for two poor souls in need of one another

It’s so different when it’s just you and me
holding hands and locking eyes

When we go back to the sea
We get lost

It hurts to see you and not smile
I wish I could turned you back into a stranger.
Fathur Abinaya Dec 2018
I've been broken for this unforbidden emotion. Like waves in the ocean, moving agitated with no exception. This emotion soar in the seas to the place of unknown. To the God of Sea, I hope you can see what I've been through to make it be.
Rinav May 2018
A smile
that was clean
lustrous, and desired

No one thought
that change
would hit upon

One's ire
It hurts
The pain she wallows
There is no understanding

Lossless hallow
Peaceful burden
Depth of depression

It seems artificial
So naive
And unforbidden
The hatred that conspired
It is not of haught

I have lost
A painless thought
Expiating a tale
of a woman
whose gale
I couldn't expiate.
Third Eye Candy May 2020
The gift of wine. My glass cups a ruby pool. And there are moths in the shed
dancing unforbidden in shoals of suspenseful dust. As I court the approaching nowhere
with a Spirit in my Grasp. I debunk the ruin of my days with my casual glooming.
Soaking in the bloated beauty of our constant world
as we blunder on the surface
of our childhood dreams…
A bronze rope
spooling from the sun
has found my
open hand.

Upon felling an Oak.

— The End —