I bend and flow with the moods.
I am what is the moment.
Emotions that run around run
Into me and collide in to my
Being and force themselves in me.
I become them; they become me.
Subjected to muses of
Infinite kinds.
I ride the waves of oceans
The temperature of the air
Changes the colours of my heart
moody and unpredictable
like butterflies in the desert
SO far my life has been all about me. Now I open a new phase of sharing my precious moments in this blessed life.
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Friday, November 4, 2011
Maybe I'm Not Stable, But
i never gave you our last kiss
it still sits upon my lips and weighs them down
so my mouth hangs open
catching the breaths of passing spirits
my throat becomes a vacuum for the devil’s voice
and i’ll spit it hot like lead, fire
a sparkling display of affection,
rejection and
revenge
you can wear my skin
but this kiss is mine
better than sex
here on my lips and i’ll suck
them back between my teeth
and chew them off
devil’s bile meets mine
this sweet kiss of ours
forever my own
to taste
it still sits upon my lips and weighs them down
so my mouth hangs open
catching the breaths of passing spirits
my throat becomes a vacuum for the devil’s voice
and i’ll spit it hot like lead, fire
a sparkling display of affection,
rejection and
revenge
you can wear my skin
but this kiss is mine
better than sex
here on my lips and i’ll suck
them back between my teeth
and chew them off
devil’s bile meets mine
this sweet kiss of ours
forever my own
to taste
I Bet You Taste Like Euphoria
A speechless tongue can only phrase out
the muted utterances of a blush spread so thoroughly
throughout my veins as I anticipate your taste
like the wayward dust anticipates rain.
From these lips that smile untouched,
I implore you to lean forward through molten glass,
leaving me with the passionate burnings of
euphoria on the tips of our poetic fingerprints
as they imprint the profusion of a love between you and I.
the muted utterances of a blush spread so thoroughly
throughout my veins as I anticipate your taste
like the wayward dust anticipates rain.
From these lips that smile untouched,
I implore you to lean forward through molten glass,
leaving me with the passionate burnings of
euphoria on the tips of our poetic fingerprints
as they imprint the profusion of a love between you and I.
To the Unversed Cynic
Oh, bitter soul who looks askance at love,
eschewing heartfelt passion others feel,
you seem to deem love something you’re above;
but, you’ve just yet to harbor love that’s real.
Your penance shall be paid, and paid in spades,
when one day you may come to understand
such power, which no man might e’er evade,
as rests within love’s unspoken command.
Then you, who would not bow to spare your soul,
shall bow because you have no other choice;
for love, once felt, shall wrest away control
and, at its whim, you’ll weep or you’ll rejoice.
eschewing heartfelt passion others feel,
you seem to deem love something you’re above;
but, you’ve just yet to harbor love that’s real.
Your penance shall be paid, and paid in spades,
when one day you may come to understand
such power, which no man might e’er evade,
as rests within love’s unspoken command.
Then you, who would not bow to spare your soul,
shall bow because you have no other choice;
for love, once felt, shall wrest away control
and, at its whim, you’ll weep or you’ll rejoice.
beautiful little sparrow
Ah, hello, aren’t you a beautiful little sparrow?
Perched within the apple tree by my window,
Autumn, you ask, she’s run away with Winter,
She left naked branches for the cold to splinter,
Under the weight of the snow come and gone,
Such things like seasons, never last that long,
See, little sparrow perched on my apple tree,
Lovers like our dear Autumn, know only of leaves,
Of goodbyes on doorsteps and cracked records,
They don’t believe in harmonies, just discords,
For you, I suggest you seek out warm Summer,
She likes sweet fruits, and hammocks in slumber,
If not, may Spring contain what you fly so high for,
Grass fields in blossom are sceneries love adores.
So, beautiful little sparrow perched in my apple tree,
Although Autumn has left us, there is still reason to be.
Perched within the apple tree by my window,
Autumn, you ask, she’s run away with Winter,
She left naked branches for the cold to splinter,
Under the weight of the snow come and gone,
Such things like seasons, never last that long,
See, little sparrow perched on my apple tree,
Lovers like our dear Autumn, know only of leaves,
Of goodbyes on doorsteps and cracked records,
They don’t believe in harmonies, just discords,
For you, I suggest you seek out warm Summer,
She likes sweet fruits, and hammocks in slumber,
If not, may Spring contain what you fly so high for,
Grass fields in blossom are sceneries love adores.
So, beautiful little sparrow perched in my apple tree,
Although Autumn has left us, there is still reason to be.
misaligned or malicious?
melancholies maddening malaise
pushed backed the start of my miserable morning
my mind a manic mess
making my mundane existence exacerbating
misaligned stars or malicious deity
seemingly making mischief
of my emotional maladroitness
pushed backed the start of my miserable morning
my mind a manic mess
making my mundane existence exacerbating
misaligned stars or malicious deity
seemingly making mischief
of my emotional maladroitness
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