Other women
Have never posed a threat to me.
Maybe it's the spring in my step
Or the way I wear my hair,
But men can never get enough of me.
The way I walk
Has never been graceful
But I have always tread on hearts
With love at first
And destruction second.
Yes, it's true,
Men can never get enough of me.
The switch of a film reel,
The spring in my step,
I've never had trouble
Finding a person
Who lusts for me.
With the wiseness of an elder
And the recklessness of a droog,
Men can never find their fill.

959

A loss of something ever felt I—
The first that I could recollect
Bereft I was—of what I knew not
Too young that any should suspect

A Mourner walked among the children
I notwithstanding went about
As one bemoaning a Dominion
Itself the only Prince cast out—

Elder, Today, a session wiser
And fainter, too, as Wiseness is—
I find myself still softly searching
For my Delinguent Palaces—

And a Suspicion, like a Finger
Touches my Forehead now and then
That I am looking oppositely
For the site of the Kingdom of Heaven—

You'll love me,
for my hair and how its smells
for my smile and my one dimple
for my hourglass figure
for my intelligence and how well I can convince you of anything
for my dark eyes and stare
for my flat feet and strong hands
for my intense personality which might make me look a bit crazy at times
for my cooking
for my great massages which put you to bed
for my random kisses all over your face
for my hugs and how you can feel my love
for my tom boy ways
for my love for God and my family
for my caring nature and deep passionate love
for my maturity and support
for my jealousy
for my humor
for my wiseness
for my walk
or maybe not.....
-E.G

feeling wise and centred.

should I share it or keep it close lest it bedestroyed

I am one to impart and share

but there are some who do not care

they tear apart your words for fear

that thier ideals should shatter and thier

true happiness may be visible and require of them much change

I am not a mirror.

I am a window.

I can show you a view  but your reflection can still in it be seen;

and thus, you may see yourself fit well in the scape I am offering.

if you trust me to be wise I may fail you

if you trust me to love you it would be wise of you.

come to my window open the pane and let the breeze of truth wash through you

breathe this space. come out side legs first into my wisdom

and behold what ever you see is yours to take with you

a seed to plant in your own garden. may the view extend you far beyond the horizon and stars

let there be meaing in your life with out going to far and with out staying so close.

let me touch you with what I know.

let me listen to your excuses and smile.

let me show you the way

you may drop bright pebbles along the way

and come back anyway.

let me be your friend,

I will show you the ways of wise

this is my frienship creed loyal and true



Change is the enemy of identity.

Stagnation is the enemy of growth.

Discernment of what is necessary to change and what should not change

is the friend of wiseness.



But love is the only precursor to all these.



yours sincerely,

thought.

Let me tell you about my best friend Danni
She takes care of me when I need it: nanny
Taking pictures with her camera all day
She here to work, to talk to play
Ya know she has the wiseness, full of surprises
After a little pep talk moods be risin
Sempere, know how to pronounce it? me neither
I get to missing Danni, call it friend fever

I love you yo. I'm finna post this post on Facebook. Hella :)

I Like many tend to think what I know at the moment is most true,
although I like to pretend I believe I know nothing,
and use the popularity of the thought, That is what I just said
as an excuse for being self-centered.
I've become what I've feared. Just like you
But maybe you won't- as we are allowed to be different. But we're not
I know that I must unchain my mind from my own protections and coping mechanisms, Am I just your coping mechanism?
I am not just I. You are not just you.
We are everyone else who has ever touched us. What about me?
How could I hate you for treating me differently to protect yourself? Simple- people are responsible for their actions!
My hate is just protecting myself as well. That's what he wants you to believe
I have voices in my head I am not just a voice telling me to be stronger than this, Yes? and they're just as juvenile as I am. Trust me
No wiseness of years because they're only as old as I exist. But I'm your friend
They want to cocoon me inside and keep me safe but they do not know. I love you.
I do not know. But...
I do not always know the best answer. Neither do they. Or you.
And this I know to be most true.

Merry Christmas to Fitness
But mostly to Sickness.
Merry Christmas to Business
But mostly to Holiness.
Merry Christmas to Joyfulness
But mostly to Loneliness.
Merry Christmas to misses
But also to every mistress.
Merry Christmas to everyone who is religious
But also to those who are superstitious.
Merry Christmas to impulsiveness
But mostly to wiseness.
Thus, Best Wishes for All: I have plentiful.

Only wonder if the etymology might be
'Mary kiss my ... '
Surely not! Forgive my Rudeness!

And so Merry Christmas to Rudeness
But mostly to Forgiveness.

I have a lion tattoo roaring across my back,
You only see it when I take my shirt off,
You only see the leadership,
The bravery,
The courage,
The loyalty,
The wiseness,
The power of this lion when I take off my shirt,
Or when I'm not around anyone who can see my real tattoo imbedded on my forehead.

Sonnet#1[On Lifes Death Bed]

As the wind bloweth;Into my ears,
Thy taste slows;Thou fears,
Death kills cheers;Cups overflowed,
With frosted tears;Hic-ups pesting my flows.
LOVE killed HATE;And God art my souls mate,
Therefore days;May go ashtray,
Thou pay;Judgement not besides God's wiseness,
Destiny dies;Between your eyes,
I see lies;Art thy life.
Hence upon my souls ways;
Repentence of death be paid,
You can bet;It doesn't get;
My attention;As entertainment.
O' my soul;Be ruled,
By lifes coldness;And foolishness.

Written by
Austin KwAgGa Trimmel

you are so young, yet you crave the body of many goddesses.
you expect them to be at your feet, to fan away your worries.
you sit in your throne, and leave your mouth ajar, in order for the delicate fingers to intricately place the grapes on your hungry tongue.
you stare gawkingly at all the beauty the goddesses behold, thirsty for their warm, rich skin
you crave the pleasure you imagine they could provide to you
you crave their soft, melodic moans, that are sweet music to your ears
you crave that touch only the highest power could gift to you
you, constantly wanting more, don't recognize the true potential of a goddess
you, constantly trying to please what lies between your legs and the rest of the world, don't recognize their intelligence, and their wiseness beyond their years
you are not worth the goddess, or any goddess
you are hungry
you are thirsty
you are desperate
and desperation only leads to loneliness, you ******* fool.

a rinse
that he
convince the
wiseness as
Victor Borge
now act
to stream
if verge
of coast
in the
sand lie
the sphere
of confluence
to evolve
but evoke
the cascade
she flows

As the heart fills with knowledge,
rising from the profound wiseness
of the world's hidden pouches,
the light strikes sharp in the eyes,
as the calmness comes into the soul
which fills quietly like the rising sea,
and the sunset changes into sunrise.

Love lusting butterflies
cold is there, in deep
but warmth comes out
of your yearning soul
what do you hide there
cristalls of forgiveness
pearls of pure wiseness
and drops of sadness
the taste of life is sweet
the taste of living, bitter
mingle the beauty in one
and you see the depth
of love and eternity.

What shall we do with the child so wild?
How do we tame his flame 'n fire?
What shall we do with the child so quiet?
How do we allay his disquiet?

What do we do with our child so proud,
Strutting around with a spirit unbowed?
How do we deal with our child so vile,
Our delinquent juvenile?

What shall we do with our child, the clown,
Makes his class roar but his teacher frown?
What shall we do with our child, the boaster,
Who proclaims his prowess like a theatrical poster?

Plant a kiss on the wildness,
Whilst encouraging the calm,
Praise 'n embrace the shyness,
Pointing out his bonhomme.

Esteem 'n treasure the lordliness,
Give it a place of safety,
Love 'n welcome the vileness,
Whilst training his sensitivity.

Hug and adore the childness,
Like a jewel, the swagger,
Direct them with wiseness,
With acceptance, not a dagger.

Kiss the frog and watch it change,
An angel prince devoid of rage,
The sleeping princess shall awaken,
Before you, your golden maiden.

The grass always seems to be greener on the other side
I don't believe in humanity when the purpose is genocide

Political crisis causing innocent people to lose lives
It's sad to see so many lifeless
The global issue of poverty we might need King Midas
Greedy eyes of human beings accepting the blindness
Forgetting that being alive is priceless

Shot down, killed and much other wildness
This is all we hear and see is this wiseness??

Terrorism is a virus
It should be minimized
Every problem has a solution
So make an antivirus
Turn-on the sirens
It's time to end brutality an end for the violence

Rather than hatred and dark side of sadness
Give guidance and spread brightness
It's high time to do things that are simply righteous
Spread love and kindness
For humanity at its finest

someone said I am wise beyond my age
I said sadly
I was hurt too early
too many times
I would trade the wiseness
for a woundless soul
if it were at all possible.
thank you for the compliment
nonetheless