Teemid - Crazy feat. Joie Tan (Gnarls Barkely Cover)
Your push
Pull
So heated
So hidden
Shifts so soft
Under your skirt
While your smile
Captivated
Hips glorious
Undulating
Under
Beneath
Where
Your desire built
Longing
All the whie
Wanting
Waiting
Longing
For his touch
Rising
So forbidden
Yet
So wanted
Who is crazy
In the half light
Whiile
Your heat
Only grows
Dew
Drips
Wanting
So longing
For the petals
To be shaken
To be caressed
Lovingly
So longingly
As they deserve
So
Little did she know
His fire burned for her
Exponentially
Thursday, December 6, 2018
Sunday, October 7, 2018
Like a rainbow
Rolling Stones She's A Rainbow 1966
How does she come? My beloved. Like a rainbow my friend.
From the side, sultry slide, so beautiful, so hidden, like a child trying so desperately to sneak, yet like a woman, so longing to be viewed. By him. She wants to be seen. She longs for his eyes to devour her. Tension building. The soft peel. Gentle reveal. Soft slide so subtle, she will reveal, yet only if I act like I don't know, yet she knows he sees.
The ballet begins. Her blouse slides, as unfastening button follows each to each. The gentle game. Revelation of her skin, so unblemished, so perfect, so heated. It calls for his touch, fire erupts from her my friend. Her eyes, so dark, so light. She longs for him, he, he longs for her. Yet she stays so far... so close.
Life eternal is only a touch away. Primal fusion burns. She is so ready... so willing... so.... wanting. Yet she remains distant. He longed to worship her. To caress her. To rejoice in every curve, every magnificence of all that is her. Yet she, my most beautiful girl, stays just a moment out of touch. She longs to be loved. To be rejoiced upon. But the world has taught her something so different. Her beauty has been beaten by so many others that she believes that she does not deserve, does not warrant, to have her deepest desires fulfilled.
She cannot see her majesty. The beauty unabashed in every curve. The magnificence of each bend, every turn, of all that is her. The burning of her red. Her... so soft... so tight... so hard... her body of contradictions so beautiful. Will she know? Does she know? She is loved beyond compare.
Beyond...
compare.
In her beauty, in her ecstasy, she need feel no shame. She is safe in his embrace. She is his. She explode life. She is a rainbow.
How does she come? My beloved. Like a rainbow my friend.
From the side, sultry slide, so beautiful, so hidden, like a child trying so desperately to sneak, yet like a woman, so longing to be viewed. By him. She wants to be seen. She longs for his eyes to devour her. Tension building. The soft peel. Gentle reveal. Soft slide so subtle, she will reveal, yet only if I act like I don't know, yet she knows he sees.
The ballet begins. Her blouse slides, as unfastening button follows each to each. The gentle game. Revelation of her skin, so unblemished, so perfect, so heated. It calls for his touch, fire erupts from her my friend. Her eyes, so dark, so light. She longs for him, he, he longs for her. Yet she stays so far... so close.
Life eternal is only a touch away. Primal fusion burns. She is so ready... so willing... so.... wanting. Yet she remains distant. He longed to worship her. To caress her. To rejoice in every curve, every magnificence of all that is her. Yet she, my most beautiful girl, stays just a moment out of touch. She longs to be loved. To be rejoiced upon. But the world has taught her something so different. Her beauty has been beaten by so many others that she believes that she does not deserve, does not warrant, to have her deepest desires fulfilled.
She cannot see her majesty. The beauty unabashed in every curve. The magnificence of each bend, every turn, of all that is her. The burning of her red. Her... so soft... so tight... so hard... her body of contradictions so beautiful. Will she know? Does she know? She is loved beyond compare.
Beyond...
compare.
In her beauty, in her ecstasy, she need feel no shame. She is safe in his embrace. She is his. She explode life. She is a rainbow.
Tuesday, October 2, 2018
Even a blind man could see that's no so
Queen - Under Pressure Mega Remix
He was a fool. He had walked along the piazza. It was so many years ago. The lines were so clear. You were a rebel, or you so blindly followed him. Franco.
The cobblestone corners of every edge. It's clay brown that melted each into each. In the center was a fountain. The children, how they would play. Salud.
Before... he remembered. She would dance. Half in the light, half in the shadows. Though her business would go down, who knows who she would capture, enrapture, in that slight alleyway.
He knew.
Yet he would lie, if he did not tell you he knew the pleasure of her hip. The delight of her thigh, so simple, so strong, so sweet. How they undulated, so tight, waiting for his hands to rise forever higher towards her... towards her. So warm enveloping soft. Her. So sweet.
So it was.
He left to join the supporters. Clothes misaligned. Mauser remnant from some forgotten war. His squad little more than a collection of iniiduals. So unwilling to fight. Unwilling to realize all that was at stake. Freedom... or Franco... you decide.
She had made her decision. He snuck to the piazza during the war. He saw her, pulled so close to Octavio, Antonio, or maybe even Brayden as no Spanish name he could find started with a" BL" as she was caught in some "Affair to remember." Remember what? He was never really sure. Perhaps before she was such a rover. Finding completeness away from the Jorges she was married to.
Vive bien mi dulce Conozco a tu cuno con firmeza por nada menos eue pour mi. Los encuentras huecos. Qui asi sea. Duerme bien mi amor. Dorme bien.
He was a fool. He had walked along the piazza. It was so many years ago. The lines were so clear. You were a rebel, or you so blindly followed him. Franco.
The cobblestone corners of every edge. It's clay brown that melted each into each. In the center was a fountain. The children, how they would play. Salud.
Before... he remembered. She would dance. Half in the light, half in the shadows. Though her business would go down, who knows who she would capture, enrapture, in that slight alleyway.
He knew.
Yet he would lie, if he did not tell you he knew the pleasure of her hip. The delight of her thigh, so simple, so strong, so sweet. How they undulated, so tight, waiting for his hands to rise forever higher towards her... towards her. So warm enveloping soft. Her. So sweet.
So it was.
He left to join the supporters. Clothes misaligned. Mauser remnant from some forgotten war. His squad little more than a collection of iniiduals. So unwilling to fight. Unwilling to realize all that was at stake. Freedom... or Franco... you decide.
She had made her decision. He snuck to the piazza during the war. He saw her, pulled so close to Octavio, Antonio, or maybe even Brayden as no Spanish name he could find started with a" BL" as she was caught in some "Affair to remember." Remember what? He was never really sure. Perhaps before she was such a rover. Finding completeness away from the Jorges she was married to.
Vive bien mi dulce Conozco a tu cuno con firmeza por nada menos eue pour mi. Los encuentras huecos. Qui asi sea. Duerme bien mi amor. Dorme bien.
Sunday, September 30, 2018
Two fingers down
Ted Nuget: Strangle-hold remix
I'm not asking for forgiveness. I'm buckin' out for the territory. You won't understand. The sign of fealty, a sign of brotherhood, one to the other that none may ever understand. You must be awake. You must be alive. Every moment. When you find a fellow brother you show respect. One who cannot, will not, be tamed. Regardless of ride. Regardless of age. The last of the free thinkers.
We drive. Alone. In two's. It matters little. Wind courses around us. We must be aware. Not only for our space, but the spaces of all those ahead of us. Continually knowing, continually epecting the worst behavior, the most bone head ideas. We must. We must survive. From the press of the ignition (though I miss my kick-start) to the pull of the throttle... it's us. Us, against the world.
Beneath the motor roars, as all becomes focused on the here... the now. To live fully in the present, forgetting the past, future only exists due to every decision you make now. Every consequence has a reaction. You know it. You smile.
Something breaks, as it always will, you must be continually aware. You may have to spend, you may have to fashion. Either way it will get done. They must live, your ride, so that you can live. Wind buffets your body. You become one with the machine. You lean, she turns, You pull, she leaps finally freeborn into the sky. All the while she waits for the next move.
When you meet a brother on the road... you give the signal. Out of respect, out of admiration, you are bound: It is your brotherhood against the world. They are family. One born out of iron. One born of steel. Blood from scuffed knuckles born of care... she will demand her ounce of blood. You know, you share, if your brother or sister passes, you show respect, if they are down you pull over even if all you can do is offer camaraderie,
Why... that is what brothers do. Forged of steel. Fusioned in a mutual right for survival. We have made it this long. The smile. We have made it this long. .
I'm not asking for forgiveness. I'm buckin' out for the territory. You won't understand. The sign of fealty, a sign of brotherhood, one to the other that none may ever understand. You must be awake. You must be alive. Every moment. When you find a fellow brother you show respect. One who cannot, will not, be tamed. Regardless of ride. Regardless of age. The last of the free thinkers.
We drive. Alone. In two's. It matters little. Wind courses around us. We must be aware. Not only for our space, but the spaces of all those ahead of us. Continually knowing, continually epecting the worst behavior, the most bone head ideas. We must. We must survive. From the press of the ignition (though I miss my kick-start) to the pull of the throttle... it's us. Us, against the world.
Beneath the motor roars, as all becomes focused on the here... the now. To live fully in the present, forgetting the past, future only exists due to every decision you make now. Every consequence has a reaction. You know it. You smile.
Something breaks, as it always will, you must be continually aware. You may have to spend, you may have to fashion. Either way it will get done. They must live, your ride, so that you can live. Wind buffets your body. You become one with the machine. You lean, she turns, You pull, she leaps finally freeborn into the sky. All the while she waits for the next move.
When you meet a brother on the road... you give the signal. Out of respect, out of admiration, you are bound: It is your brotherhood against the world. They are family. One born out of iron. One born of steel. Blood from scuffed knuckles born of care... she will demand her ounce of blood. You know, you share, if your brother or sister passes, you show respect, if they are down you pull over even if all you can do is offer camaraderie,
Why... that is what brothers do. Forged of steel. Fusioned in a mutual right for survival. We have made it this long. The smile. We have made it this long. .
Tuesday, September 11, 2018
Let's roll
This is Sparta
So the anniversary is around us. Macabre, the way most people remember. The deaths of so many. Born from Chaos.
What do I remember?
"Let's roll."
A group caught in a flight. They had already heard of the what had happened to the towers twin. Thy would not go down like lemmings. They were born men... so free. They would die, as men so free. A charge of the cockpit. A hope against hope. As the plane plummeted to the earth, they may die, but the enemy would be denied. Why? We are free men.
Bold, brave, cloaked with nothing more than a sense of duty civil servants, firemen, policemen, those paid so little... gave everything. Running again and again into the halls belching with smoke. Only one thing in mind, to save, to deprive from the enemy body, by body, those that they tried to destroy.
We are America. We are a beacon. We are the last best hope this world has. Facing death, facing... the end, without wait. All to save our brothers, all to save our sisters. While some became consumed by fear, they charged heedlessly. To help your brother. Why such selflessness? We are free men.
Born...
and bred.
When cornered... we cherished.
I've chosen my words carefully.
"Let's roll!" defiant cry, as the nose plummets towards the earth. I was born free, I will die free.
Amoungst the sorrow of 9/11 all I ask is that you take the time to remember, you were born the sons and daughters of those who came before you...
who took on the strongest imperial power in the world...
for a prize as little...
as great...
as freedom.
Smile, smirk as "Let's roll!" defiantly rolls from you tongue.
So the anniversary is around us. Macabre, the way most people remember. The deaths of so many. Born from Chaos.
What do I remember?
"Let's roll."
A group caught in a flight. They had already heard of the what had happened to the towers twin. Thy would not go down like lemmings. They were born men... so free. They would die, as men so free. A charge of the cockpit. A hope against hope. As the plane plummeted to the earth, they may die, but the enemy would be denied. Why? We are free men.
Bold, brave, cloaked with nothing more than a sense of duty civil servants, firemen, policemen, those paid so little... gave everything. Running again and again into the halls belching with smoke. Only one thing in mind, to save, to deprive from the enemy body, by body, those that they tried to destroy.
We are America. We are a beacon. We are the last best hope this world has. Facing death, facing... the end, without wait. All to save our brothers, all to save our sisters. While some became consumed by fear, they charged heedlessly. To help your brother. Why such selflessness? We are free men.
Born...
and bred.
When cornered... we cherished.
I've chosen my words carefully.
"Let's roll!" defiant cry, as the nose plummets towards the earth. I was born free, I will die free.
Amoungst the sorrow of 9/11 all I ask is that you take the time to remember, you were born the sons and daughters of those who came before you...
who took on the strongest imperial power in the world...
for a prize as little...
as great...
as freedom.
Smile, smirk as "Let's roll!" defiantly rolls from you tongue.
Wednesday, August 29, 2018
Sweet like candy
Dave Matthews Band: Crash
The rush. The L. It passed. The sound resound. Reverberating off the city streets below. Announcing its arrival. Its promise.
He laughed. They sat across from each other. The meal. The breaking of the fast. The two sat. Mere bodies perhaps, longing for nothing more than to crash into the other. Yet.
Laughing, He told her about the mini concert that had been held in the space below, day before. All the while the clacking of passing trains passed overhead. Maybe they were little more than itinerant travelers dancing to the beat of the train above, or the music below. Who knows?
He had come to the city for her you know. For her. Was it her move? Her sway? Or the fact that her soul sung a song that only his heart could hear. She kept her eyes down at times. That much he noticed. It was the last day. Each to each they longed to collapse. Her fork fettered around her Irish breakfast. All the while his eyes consumed her.
And the elevated bore her clack ever present in the distance.
She was so beautiful. Her lips pursed just so. To beckon, perhaps? To recall as he was about to travel? Who knows? There was so much of him she still longed to know. The hot, facts, everso pulsating. Throbbing, for her. His boys dream. Loving. Marching towards her. Her body fashioned fine. Chiseled into her granite. So alive. So tight. Pulsating lips were found on her. Face. So beautiful. She smiled. He fell in love. Again...
and again.
Meanwhile...
The rhythmic clack of the "L" rode in the distance. It's beat, pointing out the primal moves of those below.
Her glance, his laugh, the two ever closer. Waiting, for what neither was sure. It was the last day. She ate her Irish Bacon, he his Blood Pudding. Each wanting only to delve into the other as the beat of the day bore ever onward.
She passed to him the pieces she could. He was not expecting. He had given so... for nothing, save her. Amazed, he accepted all of her... the gifts were so secondary. She was the gift. She was his.
In the lean forward he could help but noticed that her lips revealed the tension. The L with its clacketity-clack rose above. The rush of people forever intruding on the world created by the two. Perhaps the city was too big... or perhaps the world of the two was too big.
"Come to me," he said, "melt with me, "he said as he pulled her into him. "You are mine," he whispered as he drew her so close. "My beautiful one, you are mine." Bodies crashed together as he drew her into a pressing hug.
He would never let her go.
Meanwhile the L beat out her song above.
Monday, August 6, 2018
Somewhere
Pet shop boys: West Side Story
I still remember her last words to me... "What the fuck are you doing here?" An excellent retort to a letter delivered that said "In the end I will find the right words, and they will be simple... Thanks for being a friend." Not sure if they were ever read. The letter was ripped in half ever so quickly. Ever so. Somehow. Someday. Somewhere.
Love is a battle. Love is war. Every piece of you given is forever lost. But for every piece you give away, a piece is taken. That can never be forgotten. Somehow. Someday Somewhere.
I never thought myself to be Tony... the leader of the Jets. I was alway the leader of the Sharks. Little man struggling, She was my Rita. Rita Moreno. Her twist... her turn. Every move showing defiance. Could she.... would she... the backward step into me. So simple. Yet... so elegant. Somehow, someday, somewhere.
Eyes pierce though the night. A new chapter has begun. They will carry over... but how much. Glorious hazel might defeat the blue. Who will win? The Jets? The Sharks? It matters little. The play runs again, over, and over. Well find a new way of living. Well find a new way of forgiving. Somehow. Someday. Somewhere.
Hold my hand and were half-way there. Hold my hand and I'll take you there.
Somehow. Someday. Somewhere.
I still remember her last words to me... "What the fuck are you doing here?" An excellent retort to a letter delivered that said "In the end I will find the right words, and they will be simple... Thanks for being a friend." Not sure if they were ever read. The letter was ripped in half ever so quickly. Ever so. Somehow. Someday. Somewhere.
Love is a battle. Love is war. Every piece of you given is forever lost. But for every piece you give away, a piece is taken. That can never be forgotten. Somehow. Someday Somewhere.
I never thought myself to be Tony... the leader of the Jets. I was alway the leader of the Sharks. Little man struggling, She was my Rita. Rita Moreno. Her twist... her turn. Every move showing defiance. Could she.... would she... the backward step into me. So simple. Yet... so elegant. Somehow, someday, somewhere.
Eyes pierce though the night. A new chapter has begun. They will carry over... but how much. Glorious hazel might defeat the blue. Who will win? The Jets? The Sharks? It matters little. The play runs again, over, and over. Well find a new way of living. Well find a new way of forgiving. Somehow. Someday. Somewhere.
Hold my hand and were half-way there. Hold my hand and I'll take you there.
Somehow. Someday. Somewhere.
Tuesday, July 24, 2018
Dance in the flames
Lady GaGa - The Edge of Glory (Bollywood Remix by Desi Hits!)
The vial parts
Curtain splits
If only for a moment
Everlasting frozen
But it is enough
In microseconds frozen
The glory
The possibilty
That a world
Might exist
Be created
For a moment
There is no past
No present
Only the now
Continuing forever
Forever
The draw of her eye
The beckoning question
Of her
Smile
So fierce
Come and dance
Dance
With
Me
For now
For the past
For the evermore
Come and dance
Friday, July 20, 2018
Dancing Water
Santana-Maria Maria
Her pot
So watched
Began
The boil
Regarless
Fire
Simmered below
Gently licking
Burning
Heat
Rising smolder
Absorbed
It was all it could do
Bubbles forming
Longing
For release
The ones that could not be bound
Began
The rise
The leap
To the freedom of the top
Surface so calm
Now disturbed
As it began
The dance
Responding to the heat
It felt
It loved
It so longed
For
In the gentle fury building
More bubbles rose
Escaping
To join the water
In its dance
Becoming ever more furious
As it lost itself
To the burning
Smolder
Her pot
So watched
Began
The boil
Regarless
Fire
Simmered below
Gently licking
Burning
Heat
Rising smolder
Absorbed
It was all it could do
Bubbles forming
Longing
For release
The ones that could not be bound
Began
The rise
The leap
To the freedom of the top
Surface so calm
Now disturbed
As it began
The dance
Responding to the heat
It felt
It loved
It so longed
For
In the gentle fury building
More bubbles rose
Escaping
To join the water
In its dance
Becoming ever more furious
As it lost itself
To the burning
Smolder
Thursday, July 12, 2018
Revolution of the real
oldplay Vs Ac/Dc Vs 2 Unlimited - Thunderstruck Is A No Limits Waterfall (Djs From Mars Bootleg)
The world owns a sword
Named dreamcrusher
And if you wait
If you are willing to listen
You might just believe
Until
You hear the melody
Emerging from the one
Pressing against
A nail sticking out
Only to be struck all the more
Yet
He takes it
Continues to belt his melody
Against the deafness of the world
Sedated
Believing
Why
Bother to dream
Dreams are for fools
But he
Was Texas
All is possible
All
Hit me and I will stand
My brothers will join
And we will strike back
Liberate
Break the chains
Free the dream
Fulfilled
It will happen
It will
You and I
Together
We make the world
Our World
Defiant in the face of those who have forgotten
The precious of the touch
The gaze
The wanting
Desire
Buring
In the face of gratification
So instant
Sedating
Fools who know the price of everything
Yet the value of nothing
Have never seen her eyes
Look at me
Or mine look at hers
From the stare
Novels could be written
From only a glance
Such is the power
Of the primal
Most so desperately try to hide
Cover with the gauze of civiliztion
I have no time for them
They have no soul
But you
Join me
In the revolution
Of the real
The world owns a sword
Named dreamcrusher
And if you wait
If you are willing to listen
You might just believe
Until
You hear the melody
Emerging from the one
Pressing against
A nail sticking out
Only to be struck all the more
Yet
He takes it
Continues to belt his melody
Against the deafness of the world
Sedated
Believing
Why
Bother to dream
Dreams are for fools
But he
Was Texas
All is possible
All
Hit me and I will stand
My brothers will join
And we will strike back
Liberate
Break the chains
Free the dream
Fulfilled
It will happen
It will
You and I
Together
We make the world
Our World
Defiant in the face of those who have forgotten
The precious of the touch
The gaze
The wanting
Desire
Buring
In the face of gratification
So instant
Sedating
Fools who know the price of everything
Yet the value of nothing
Have never seen her eyes
Look at me
Or mine look at hers
From the stare
Novels could be written
From only a glance
Such is the power
Of the primal
Most so desperately try to hide
Cover with the gauze of civiliztion
I have no time for them
They have no soul
But you
Join me
In the revolution
Of the real
Tuesday, July 10, 2018
The boundary
Jennifer Lopez Feat. Pitbull Vs Britney Spears Vs Rihanna - Against The Floor (Robin Skouteris Mix)
An artist, gifted, so precious, in love with the line. Each stretch, thickness, width. High contrast of the India ink to the white paper below. If only she could control her trace. Maddening chase for perfection... from her art at least.
Boundary line that her animal could not cross. Yet however she tried, madness gnawing in her darkest recesses longed desperately to erupt.
Trembling, she would fight. None could see behind her mask, til she remembered the one. His touch, drawing the pain, replacing only with pleasure in a glorious transformation. Little did she know, but all she had to do was look at him, with eyes of trust, openness, and he would die, only to arise more strong.
So it was.
So it goes.
An advance passes, as she felt his forward press. The trace of his finger drawing along her hair. The heat of his breath along her ear... her neck. Her eyes closed... as her hips advanced towards his. Each colliding into each. Drunk with desire. Worlds had collapsed into only the two.
Wanting.
Drawing.
Press of heated lips, burning.
Drawing all oxygen from the other. Replacing with the breath of love. Of passion. Of the eternal.
Til...
Her eyes half hidden, returned. To burn his mind.
While...
His arms emerged from the shadows...
Of her darkness enveloping. To embrace, to caress, to breathe life, over...
and over.
His light...
Though so far distant...
Simply burned to bright.
But don't hold it against him.
An artist, gifted, so precious, in love with the line. Each stretch, thickness, width. High contrast of the India ink to the white paper below. If only she could control her trace. Maddening chase for perfection... from her art at least.
Boundary line that her animal could not cross. Yet however she tried, madness gnawing in her darkest recesses longed desperately to erupt.
Trembling, she would fight. None could see behind her mask, til she remembered the one. His touch, drawing the pain, replacing only with pleasure in a glorious transformation. Little did she know, but all she had to do was look at him, with eyes of trust, openness, and he would die, only to arise more strong.
So it was.
So it goes.
An advance passes, as she felt his forward press. The trace of his finger drawing along her hair. The heat of his breath along her ear... her neck. Her eyes closed... as her hips advanced towards his. Each colliding into each. Drunk with desire. Worlds had collapsed into only the two.
Wanting.
Drawing.
Press of heated lips, burning.
Drawing all oxygen from the other. Replacing with the breath of love. Of passion. Of the eternal.
Til...
Her eyes half hidden, returned. To burn his mind.
While...
His arms emerged from the shadows...
Of her darkness enveloping. To embrace, to caress, to breathe life, over...
and over.
His light...
Though so far distant...
Simply burned to bright.
But don't hold it against him.
Saturday, July 7, 2018
Burn Bright!
Coldplay - A Sky Full Of Stars
She had just gotten off of work. Maybe walked to a bus, maybe a tram. That is not important. The important thing is that she knew that one walked behind... in such admiration. The power, the shape, the form of her legs. Each step bold. Each step confident as she walked forward, carrying him in her heart. Her hair danced with each step, each bounce.
Her heart was happy.
For once...
Her heart was happy.
Her confidence, so bodied, knowing she was loved. She was found precious. For nothing more, that what she was.
What she was.
So much. So much more, than she would ever know. But for him, it was enough, that she smiled.... glorious., on her walk. She wouldn't know, he supposed she couldn't know, how precious she was. How bold, How beautiful,
Spread your light.
Spread your love.
Burn you candle so brilliant.
Against the world...
so dark.
Burn bright, my beauty, burn bright!
She had just gotten off of work. Maybe walked to a bus, maybe a tram. That is not important. The important thing is that she knew that one walked behind... in such admiration. The power, the shape, the form of her legs. Each step bold. Each step confident as she walked forward, carrying him in her heart. Her hair danced with each step, each bounce.
Her heart was happy.
For once...
Her heart was happy.
Her confidence, so bodied, knowing she was loved. She was found precious. For nothing more, that what she was.
What she was.
So much. So much more, than she would ever know. But for him, it was enough, that she smiled.... glorious., on her walk. She wouldn't know, he supposed she couldn't know, how precious she was. How bold, How beautiful,
Spread your light.
Spread your love.
Burn you candle so brilliant.
Against the world...
so dark.
Burn bright, my beauty, burn bright!
Wednesday, July 4, 2018
Belliisima
Madonna-She's Not Me (Offer Nissim mix)
The smoke filtered across the floor. Caught in tiny pirouettes moving lights created a world of halves. Half light, half shadow. The glory of...
the hidden...
the revealed.
That is when he saw her. Dress so tight, Shaping almost every curve, so supple: firm, vexing, beckoning. Her crown composed of hair short shone. Her face smiled, her body swayed. "Come to me" it invited. "If you only dare," her shift, so soft, so supple warned.
Bellisima
He advanced. The dance, so soft... so simple, had begun.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw him. She had to feign, to pretend, that she did not want, the focus of her desire.
Describe the heat, so burning, so soft, that rose while lips laden, burning with desire, longed to press. To somehow quench her fire perpetual. Just for a moment, to be lost, in consuming extacy To die, so one could live. Fully. Lips longing to feel the heat of his contact. Her hips soft sway. Movement towards enticing followed by a supple retreat. Chase me. Love me. Devour...
me. For I will devour you.
He joined. Advance soft slight. The grace across her hip... a simple move that could so easily be excused in the confusion of the dance. The fury of a furious movement. He knew it was a grace relished... and so did she. She closed her eyes to move towards her desire. He advanced. The slight game of seduction. Separated by the tiniest of spaces. A fraction unbearable. In that space, was the grace, where energy erupted from her, to mix, to dance, to become one with the energy that was erupting from him.
Bellisima.
His hands moved. Longing to map the undiscovered county of her body To memorize every hill, every valley, of her glory. Meanwhile she, pressed close to him. She wanted to draw from him. To justify, to release, to be consumed, by the energy she had created in her longing for him. Her points rose for him. Desire dripped from lips so ruby red. So ripe. Waiting, desperate for the touch of his desire.
The dance pulled closer. She felt his reception to her advance. His welcome. His longing desperate to consume her beauty.
Bellisima.
The drawing close. The pulling near, provided by every beat. Of the heart? Of the music? Did it matter?
He pulled her close. Her fire burned so bright. His lips burning touched hers, so inflamed. They were consumed by the inferno. Erano stati consumati. Ognuno parlava a ciascuno, in una ligua inespressa.
Bellisima
The smoke filtered across the floor. Caught in tiny pirouettes moving lights created a world of halves. Half light, half shadow. The glory of...
the hidden...
the revealed.
That is when he saw her. Dress so tight, Shaping almost every curve, so supple: firm, vexing, beckoning. Her crown composed of hair short shone. Her face smiled, her body swayed. "Come to me" it invited. "If you only dare," her shift, so soft, so supple warned.
Bellisima
He advanced. The dance, so soft... so simple, had begun.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw him. She had to feign, to pretend, that she did not want, the focus of her desire.
Describe the heat, so burning, so soft, that rose while lips laden, burning with desire, longed to press. To somehow quench her fire perpetual. Just for a moment, to be lost, in consuming extacy To die, so one could live. Fully. Lips longing to feel the heat of his contact. Her hips soft sway. Movement towards enticing followed by a supple retreat. Chase me. Love me. Devour...
me. For I will devour you.
He joined. Advance soft slight. The grace across her hip... a simple move that could so easily be excused in the confusion of the dance. The fury of a furious movement. He knew it was a grace relished... and so did she. She closed her eyes to move towards her desire. He advanced. The slight game of seduction. Separated by the tiniest of spaces. A fraction unbearable. In that space, was the grace, where energy erupted from her, to mix, to dance, to become one with the energy that was erupting from him.
Bellisima.
His hands moved. Longing to map the undiscovered county of her body To memorize every hill, every valley, of her glory. Meanwhile she, pressed close to him. She wanted to draw from him. To justify, to release, to be consumed, by the energy she had created in her longing for him. Her points rose for him. Desire dripped from lips so ruby red. So ripe. Waiting, desperate for the touch of his desire.
The dance pulled closer. She felt his reception to her advance. His welcome. His longing desperate to consume her beauty.
Bellisima.
The drawing close. The pulling near, provided by every beat. Of the heart? Of the music? Did it matter?
He pulled her close. Her fire burned so bright. His lips burning touched hers, so inflamed. They were consumed by the inferno. Erano stati consumati. Ognuno parlava a ciascuno, in una ligua inespressa.
Bellisima
The madness of an idea
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sycrn50yDXI
Madness, it seemed.
Madness it was.
But there was no other way.
Shots had been fired. Previous petitions fell on deaf ears. Soldiers shadows loomed across cobblestone streets. Pointed bayonets enforced theft from a distant tyrant so far away.
"We hold these truths to be self -evident..."
The 56 delegates had mixed reactions. To little more than a simple document. A piece of paper that if one signed could certainly be a death warrant.
What were they doing? England was the worlds largest imperial power. They had veteran professional soldiers, they had the worlds largest navy, they had the resources to crush this tiny rebellion. Only a third of the population of the North American mainland colonies supported this insurrection anyway.
The colonials had no money. They had no foundries or factories for the manufacture of weapons. Any army they could muster would mainly consist of poor farmers, twenty to forty years old, sacrificing all for the sake of what? Of what?
An idea.
An idea whose time had come.
We had the ability to rule ourselves.
A notion that some might call...
Madness.
Maybe, but the truth was that this document spoke of ideas that burned and actions that had begun as hushed whispers as early as 1763 to defiant yells and shots fired by 1775.
President of the Congress, John Hancock rose. His defiant hand traced a signature so flamboyant in its exaggerated size so that the King of England could read it without his glasses. Good story, but the real truth was that he saw the trembling hands of some of the delegates. He knew he had to show bravado. Delegates for signing were carefully chosen. Full supporters would be first, leading to the more lukewarm, and finishing with the frightened. Men like Thomas Willing and Charles Humpreys of Pennsylvania voted against it. New York and delegate John Dickinson abstained from their vote. Regardless of this, the necessary votes gave birth to a new nation.
Based on nothing...
but an idea.
Madness.
We had to endure the pains of childbirth. Years of protracted war ensued. Patriots carried the fight against British soldiers but fellow colonials as well. Those who thought the idea of the revolution madness.
The price for signing? For some it cost everything. Iron manufacturer George Taylor had all of his property confiscated by the British. He died impoverished in 1781. William Floyd lost all of his property as well. John Heart of New Jersey had his mills, crops and livestock slaughtered by British troops forcing him to go on the run. Sleeping in caves and dog kennels, he died in 1778. Lyman Hall who had moved to Georgia and operated a rice plantation lost all, but at least he was not like fellow signers Arthur Muddleton and Edward Rutledge. They were captured by the British in 1780 and and placed in the hell of a British prison ship in Florida. Though eventually released, they found that much of their property that had not been destroyed had been confiscated. Richard Stockton of New Jersey in the process of making sure his family was safely evacuated first, was captured by the British and placed in irons. His estate was ransacked, livestock slaughtered, library burned, and then his quarters became the headquarters for British General Cornwallis. Though paroled in 1777, his health had been broken by his imprisonment. He died in 1781.
All was given for a nothing...
that was everything.
An idea.
Beautiful...
Glorious...
Madness.
Happy Birthday to the idea whose time has come! Happy Birthday America!
Madness, it seemed.
Madness it was.
But there was no other way.
Shots had been fired. Previous petitions fell on deaf ears. Soldiers shadows loomed across cobblestone streets. Pointed bayonets enforced theft from a distant tyrant so far away.
"We hold these truths to be self -evident..."
The 56 delegates had mixed reactions. To little more than a simple document. A piece of paper that if one signed could certainly be a death warrant.
What were they doing? England was the worlds largest imperial power. They had veteran professional soldiers, they had the worlds largest navy, they had the resources to crush this tiny rebellion. Only a third of the population of the North American mainland colonies supported this insurrection anyway.
The colonials had no money. They had no foundries or factories for the manufacture of weapons. Any army they could muster would mainly consist of poor farmers, twenty to forty years old, sacrificing all for the sake of what? Of what?
An idea.
An idea whose time had come.
We had the ability to rule ourselves.
A notion that some might call...
Madness.
Maybe, but the truth was that this document spoke of ideas that burned and actions that had begun as hushed whispers as early as 1763 to defiant yells and shots fired by 1775.
President of the Congress, John Hancock rose. His defiant hand traced a signature so flamboyant in its exaggerated size so that the King of England could read it without his glasses. Good story, but the real truth was that he saw the trembling hands of some of the delegates. He knew he had to show bravado. Delegates for signing were carefully chosen. Full supporters would be first, leading to the more lukewarm, and finishing with the frightened. Men like Thomas Willing and Charles Humpreys of Pennsylvania voted against it. New York and delegate John Dickinson abstained from their vote. Regardless of this, the necessary votes gave birth to a new nation.
Based on nothing...
but an idea.
Madness.
We had to endure the pains of childbirth. Years of protracted war ensued. Patriots carried the fight against British soldiers but fellow colonials as well. Those who thought the idea of the revolution madness.
The price for signing? For some it cost everything. Iron manufacturer George Taylor had all of his property confiscated by the British. He died impoverished in 1781. William Floyd lost all of his property as well. John Heart of New Jersey had his mills, crops and livestock slaughtered by British troops forcing him to go on the run. Sleeping in caves and dog kennels, he died in 1778. Lyman Hall who had moved to Georgia and operated a rice plantation lost all, but at least he was not like fellow signers Arthur Muddleton and Edward Rutledge. They were captured by the British in 1780 and and placed in the hell of a British prison ship in Florida. Though eventually released, they found that much of their property that had not been destroyed had been confiscated. Richard Stockton of New Jersey in the process of making sure his family was safely evacuated first, was captured by the British and placed in irons. His estate was ransacked, livestock slaughtered, library burned, and then his quarters became the headquarters for British General Cornwallis. Though paroled in 1777, his health had been broken by his imprisonment. He died in 1781.
All was given for a nothing...
that was everything.
An idea.
Beautiful...
Glorious...
Madness.
Happy Birthday to the idea whose time has come! Happy Birthday America!
Monday, July 2, 2018
Let the water come
Wasted On The Way - Crosby, Stills And Nash
My one
Don't you know
Time
Wasted
Before
The beautiful harmoniousness
So much time to make up
Did she know her eyes
Were Beautiful
The soft tilt of her head
Disbelieving
Yet holding
Just a moment
In her love for me
And my smile
So Cheshire
Crying
Welcoming her
To partake
In the place of fun
Perhaps
Love wasted
The most precious
Wasted
In our youth
Believing
It would last
Forever
He thought
She would never doubt
The beauty
Of her hair
Her crown
Never sell
That which was so Precious
So cheap
Strings flurry
As he looked to see
Did she
Sell
So cheap
That which was so precious
So much water moving underneath the bridge
Love wasted along the way
Let the water come
Let the water come
and carry us away.
My one
Don't you know
Time
Wasted
Before
The beautiful harmoniousness
So much time to make up
Did she know her eyes
Were Beautiful
The soft tilt of her head
Disbelieving
Yet holding
Just a moment
In her love for me
And my smile
So Cheshire
Crying
Welcoming her
To partake
In the place of fun
Perhaps
Love wasted
The most precious
Wasted
In our youth
Believing
It would last
Forever
He thought
She would never doubt
The beauty
Of her hair
Her crown
Never sell
That which was so Precious
So cheap
Strings flurry
As he looked to see
Did she
Sell
So cheap
That which was so precious
So much water moving underneath the bridge
Love wasted along the way
Let the water come
Let the water come
and carry us away.
Diamond
Rihanna vs. Metallica - Diamonds Vs The Unforgiven (Djs From Mars Bootleg Remix)
It was all he ever asked really.
Was for her to shine... so bright... like the diamond she is. She will forever be. It's pressure you know. That creates the diamond. Hidden. Away from sight. Deep in the earth. Under pressure tremendous. At times so great it would seem to destroy. Iit not only survives... but emerges all the glorious. Surrounded in beauty. Sheathed in grace. None will know. Yet...
In her smile...
The shine in her eye...
The laughing twist of her hair....
She will not reveal.
We live in a world, where madness is genius. Imperfection beauty, and the willingness to be absolutely outlandish for acceptance is commonplace.
How did she react? The hesitating, complicated end of the conversation, disguised the difficulty she felt at being accepted for who she was. Really was. Shine bright he would remind...
But her laughter broke.
The turn of her head. Hair cascading. Waiting. Longing for the touch, the trace along her neck. So beautiful. Longing. For the touch. To enter the boundary, the space between her head, and her heart. Do you dare? Lips burn. Waiting for the contact. So far. So near. The shortest distance between two is maddening. Minute pass between her supple rise so beautiful, waiting, longing for the caress of his hands, burning, longing, only moments away. But so are moments.
Blood flowed. Life cried. Pouring, passing, waiting....
wanting...
for release. For hands... for lips... burning press. After a monets hesitation, the drawing in, her pouring out. Longing to be lost. In the few moments they had, before all was lost to passion.
And in the other they were blissfully consumed. All.
Shine bright...
Diamond.
It was all he ever asked really.
Was for her to shine... so bright... like the diamond she is. She will forever be. It's pressure you know. That creates the diamond. Hidden. Away from sight. Deep in the earth. Under pressure tremendous. At times so great it would seem to destroy. Iit not only survives... but emerges all the glorious. Surrounded in beauty. Sheathed in grace. None will know. Yet...
In her smile...
The shine in her eye...
The laughing twist of her hair....
She will not reveal.
We live in a world, where madness is genius. Imperfection beauty, and the willingness to be absolutely outlandish for acceptance is commonplace.
How did she react? The hesitating, complicated end of the conversation, disguised the difficulty she felt at being accepted for who she was. Really was. Shine bright he would remind...
But her laughter broke.
The turn of her head. Hair cascading. Waiting. Longing for the touch, the trace along her neck. So beautiful. Longing. For the touch. To enter the boundary, the space between her head, and her heart. Do you dare? Lips burn. Waiting for the contact. So far. So near. The shortest distance between two is maddening. Minute pass between her supple rise so beautiful, waiting, longing for the caress of his hands, burning, longing, only moments away. But so are moments.
Blood flowed. Life cried. Pouring, passing, waiting....
wanting...
for release. For hands... for lips... burning press. After a monets hesitation, the drawing in, her pouring out. Longing to be lost. In the few moments they had, before all was lost to passion.
And in the other they were blissfully consumed. All.
Shine bright...
Diamond.
Sunday, July 1, 2018
1::17 or 6:42 I will touch the tender wall
Peter Gabriel: In your eyes
Darkness. So pervasive. It could enter the mind. Make one think... make one believe that which was so untrue. A travesty.A colum built of nothing. Nothing more that the lies, one silently whispered to oneself, or the shame, which, in reality, is little more than the lies someone else told you about yourself.
That you believed.
If only for a moment... however passing.
He had been in the darkness. So engulfing. So deafening. You shout. It shouts back. In the moment where he pressed into the darkness, and the darkness pressed back, he had had enough. It would not win. It would not deprive him. So he thought. He remembered the light. The shining sphere she held within her eyes. That glimmer might be enough He held it aloft. He went in search.
With each he found however, his light only grew brighter. Piercing back the engulfing darkness. They crawled. Ramshackle joints that had almost forgotten movement. That had wondered why they should. Yet he moved. He moved on. He searched for her. The knooks, the crannies. He would find her.
Her light as too precious.
Too.
Would she ever know?
Till he found the beauty. So desperate. She tried to hide. Almost. As if. She should hide. That which made her so much... so much more. She was not born to fit in. She was born to stand out.
Did she not know?
Did she not see?
In the light he had brought fir her? The illumination of beauty devastating. Her beauty tight. Forming... ever so... the tightness, the turn, the supple, pleasing... decimating... yet to pull close... so worth the price... to die...
...In the midst of living.
So she was.
Darkness. So pervasive. It could enter the mind. Make one think... make one believe that which was so untrue. A travesty.A colum built of nothing. Nothing more that the lies, one silently whispered to oneself, or the shame, which, in reality, is little more than the lies someone else told you about yourself.
That you believed.
If only for a moment... however passing.
He had been in the darkness. So engulfing. So deafening. You shout. It shouts back. In the moment where he pressed into the darkness, and the darkness pressed back, he had had enough. It would not win. It would not deprive him. So he thought. He remembered the light. The shining sphere she held within her eyes. That glimmer might be enough He held it aloft. He went in search.
With each he found however, his light only grew brighter. Piercing back the engulfing darkness. They crawled. Ramshackle joints that had almost forgotten movement. That had wondered why they should. Yet he moved. He moved on. He searched for her. The knooks, the crannies. He would find her.
Her light as too precious.
Too.
Would she ever know?
Till he found the beauty. So desperate. She tried to hide. Almost. As if. She should hide. That which made her so much... so much more. She was not born to fit in. She was born to stand out.
Did she not know?
Did she not see?
In the light he had brought fir her? The illumination of beauty devastating. Her beauty tight. Forming... ever so... the tightness, the turn, the supple, pleasing... decimating... yet to pull close... so worth the price... to die...
...In the midst of living.
So she was.
Thursday, June 28, 2018
Teardrops in a waterfall
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rTSN8faTRwI
So many moons. He remembered her. So many moons... yet... he remembered.
They had met in the fall. Life dying surrounded while the life between them came to life. Change in seasons followed. Suddenly caught in the bloom of flowers it should come as little surprise, it was nurtured in the spring.
He was with the other on the floor, both furious actors in a passion play. Actors desperate to have the love that fumed below to erupt from masks held so furiously tight. Afraid to feel totally knowing that it might bring back the pain devastating. A primal payback for every pinnacle of pleasure reached. Perhaps her fell a bit... but his was held on so tight.
So tight.
That is when she entered. Robe loosely tied around her waist. Like an artist she clad herslef with the diminutive reveal. It showed just enough to make his mind run wild. Imagination is the most powerful aphrodisiac. She knew.
"Cover your eyes," she said, hoping all the while he wouldn't.
He did. He said. The gap between the fingers driven by curiosity intense however took him towards the gates of heaven.
The knot untied. The robe slipped. Her back bare was on full display. As she had positioned herself in front of a mirror, not only did he catch the glory of the side, but the power of the front as well. Passion twisted. Passion turned.
In her tiny pirouette of preparation, though each supple move, the slight twist, he was clearly able to capture everything: soft moves crying for his touch, heat building as she placed herself on display.
It was almost too much. Though glorious... he didn't know if she knew that there was so much more to the totally of her beauty.
The smile.
Curious sparkle in...
her eye. She wanted to experience all. She wanted to know all. She was a tableau rosa waiting to be written upon. If only he dared. His slighted touch, his slightest mark, would forever make an impression she would forever cherish. What do you know, she beckoned. What can you show me, she dared. Bold. Brave. Nothing could harm her. She would laugh. Scar tissue is so much stronger than regular tissue you know. And every scar is merely a memorial that something that tried to destroy you failed. She laughed. She knew that when one got to heaven St. Peter wouldn't be looking for whole hearts... but rather those that encased in scars. Ripped and raged though. Scars were proof of a life lived fully. Marks of those who dared. Dared to be so open they could be damaged. They could be hurt. So be it.
He would know when he bore scars of his own. He wondered if she understood that...
...her scars...
and his...
were beautiful.
Teardrops
In a waterfall.
So many moons. He remembered her. So many moons... yet... he remembered.
They had met in the fall. Life dying surrounded while the life between them came to life. Change in seasons followed. Suddenly caught in the bloom of flowers it should come as little surprise, it was nurtured in the spring.
He was with the other on the floor, both furious actors in a passion play. Actors desperate to have the love that fumed below to erupt from masks held so furiously tight. Afraid to feel totally knowing that it might bring back the pain devastating. A primal payback for every pinnacle of pleasure reached. Perhaps her fell a bit... but his was held on so tight.
So tight.
That is when she entered. Robe loosely tied around her waist. Like an artist she clad herslef with the diminutive reveal. It showed just enough to make his mind run wild. Imagination is the most powerful aphrodisiac. She knew.
"Cover your eyes," she said, hoping all the while he wouldn't.
He did. He said. The gap between the fingers driven by curiosity intense however took him towards the gates of heaven.
The knot untied. The robe slipped. Her back bare was on full display. As she had positioned herself in front of a mirror, not only did he catch the glory of the side, but the power of the front as well. Passion twisted. Passion turned.
In her tiny pirouette of preparation, though each supple move, the slight twist, he was clearly able to capture everything: soft moves crying for his touch, heat building as she placed herself on display.
It was almost too much. Though glorious... he didn't know if she knew that there was so much more to the totally of her beauty.
The smile.
Curious sparkle in...
her eye. She wanted to experience all. She wanted to know all. She was a tableau rosa waiting to be written upon. If only he dared. His slighted touch, his slightest mark, would forever make an impression she would forever cherish. What do you know, she beckoned. What can you show me, she dared. Bold. Brave. Nothing could harm her. She would laugh. Scar tissue is so much stronger than regular tissue you know. And every scar is merely a memorial that something that tried to destroy you failed. She laughed. She knew that when one got to heaven St. Peter wouldn't be looking for whole hearts... but rather those that encased in scars. Ripped and raged though. Scars were proof of a life lived fully. Marks of those who dared. Dared to be so open they could be damaged. They could be hurt. So be it.
He would know when he bore scars of his own. He wondered if she understood that...
...her scars...
and his...
were beautiful.
Teardrops
In a waterfall.
Tuesday, June 26, 2018
Ever tight
Hey Jude: Remix
Music bold
Proceeded
Her entry
Boisterous
Robe
So White
So
Covering
Regions
Precious
Treasure bounced beneath
Held only
by a diminutive knot
So tight
Only she
Could uncover
"I'm not ready"
Her cue
For him to cover his eyes
Hands
Fumbled
Would She
Ever be
Ready
To see
The Beauty
Her Beauty
Underneath
Did she know
Her eyes held
The question
He wanted to spend
The rest of his life
Answering
Shining
Glittering
Through
The twist
The grin
Supple flow
Gentle request
Her glory
So precious
Display slight
Of her side caught
Gentle glorious
Calling
Waiting
expectant
To cover
So it was
So it goes
Even then...
The artist could not avert his eyes
Diminutive gaps between
He saw
The beauty
Forms released
So bold
So beautiful
Rising
So high
Longing
Forever remain
Bold
Beautiful
Skin
Untouched
By time
So supple
Rising
To touch
Her gentle
Pirouette
In front
Of the mirror
Offering only
A shallow reflection
Feeble attempt to display
The glory she had become
Tiny moments pass
Pause
Recollection
as
The knowledge
The glory
She just
became
Should he tell
Of the longing
Burning
Fuming for
The grace
The touch
Of the trace
Along her
Burning
So hot
So fuming
Between
Body
Remains
Ever tight
Music bold
Proceeded
Her entry
Boisterous
Robe
So White
So
Covering
Regions
Precious
Treasure bounced beneath
Held only
by a diminutive knot
So tight
Only she
Could uncover
"I'm not ready"
Her cue
For him to cover his eyes
Hands
Fumbled
Would She
Ever be
Ready
To see
The Beauty
Her Beauty
Underneath
Did she know
Her eyes held
The question
He wanted to spend
The rest of his life
Answering
Shining
Glittering
Through
The twist
The grin
Supple flow
Gentle request
Her glory
So precious
Display slight
Of her side caught
Gentle glorious
Calling
Waiting
expectant
To cover
So it was
So it goes
Even then...
The artist could not avert his eyes
Diminutive gaps between
He saw
The beauty
Forms released
So bold
So beautiful
Rising
So high
Longing
Forever remain
Bold
Beautiful
Skin
Untouched
By time
So supple
Rising
To touch
Her gentle
Pirouette
In front
Of the mirror
Offering only
A shallow reflection
Feeble attempt to display
The glory she had become
Tiny moments pass
Pause
Recollection
as
The knowledge
The glory
She just
became
Should he tell
Of the longing
Burning
Fuming for
The grace
The touch
Of the trace
Along her
Burning
So hot
So fuming
Between
Body
Remains
Ever tight
Sunday, June 10, 2018
Harmony Collaspes
Jethro Tull - Skating Away on the Thin Ice of the New Day, Live 1980
Harmony collapsing upon harmony. Wait. You don't hear it... wait. The man of dissonance thrown from the theater. So simple for the ones who look, but don't see. He is one. Perhaps he is central. mad man made to run by a central mind running. Made to hovel. Bow before the universal. Laughter. Mocker. Heretic. He doesn't know. He doesn't care. Society will move, sufficient to later languish... so desperately swallow on the mild scraps marking his trail. Forgetting meals sacrificed for little more than pitiful parcels perhaps... that was all they could ever handle.
Harmony collapses upon harmony.
She...
Will see...
Will be...
The...
Rabbit on the run.
The sound builds. The movements form each into each. The blend. The moment. The forever present, melds quickly into the past, leading towards a future unforgiving.
He drove back... drove through. The place where... life erupted. Interrupted for a moment. Every so sacred. Ever so... The place where they didn't make love... love made them. One joined to one, seamless in making the other... that began the world anew. He looked. He saw. So much had changed. So much had stayed the same.
Memory reduced to nothing more than a lying mirror. Cooing soft, cooing slight, seducing in its wait. All he could do was salvage that... which he knew was sweet. Was pure. Even if it was little more, than little more... it was his.
But the tales it told... so sweet... so magnificent. Though he knew he could never go back... never change... anything. But he smiled. It could never be taken. Never be stolen. Purity that shames the very angels can happen... and it did. The laugh, the cry, the defiant fist rose against that which will, which does, remind the problem always was not with his passion, but his lack of control over over them. While the whiplash smile in subversive shadows, reminded that perhaps it was not his passions, but a banal world civilized that cried... that screamed desperate for the passions that erupted from his very existence as it collapsed back toward...
the banal bacinal...
...decadent land, that had traded its soul...
As feeble blows flew.. he smiled.
Run rabbit run.
Too many cannot face truth.
Harmony collapses upon...
harmony.
In the end...
It always will...
It always does.
Harmony collapsing upon harmony. Wait. You don't hear it... wait. The man of dissonance thrown from the theater. So simple for the ones who look, but don't see. He is one. Perhaps he is central. mad man made to run by a central mind running. Made to hovel. Bow before the universal. Laughter. Mocker. Heretic. He doesn't know. He doesn't care. Society will move, sufficient to later languish... so desperately swallow on the mild scraps marking his trail. Forgetting meals sacrificed for little more than pitiful parcels perhaps... that was all they could ever handle.
Harmony collapses upon harmony.
She...
Will see...
Will be...
The...
Rabbit on the run.
The sound builds. The movements form each into each. The blend. The moment. The forever present, melds quickly into the past, leading towards a future unforgiving.
He drove back... drove through. The place where... life erupted. Interrupted for a moment. Every so sacred. Ever so... The place where they didn't make love... love made them. One joined to one, seamless in making the other... that began the world anew. He looked. He saw. So much had changed. So much had stayed the same.
Memory reduced to nothing more than a lying mirror. Cooing soft, cooing slight, seducing in its wait. All he could do was salvage that... which he knew was sweet. Was pure. Even if it was little more, than little more... it was his.
But the tales it told... so sweet... so magnificent. Though he knew he could never go back... never change... anything. But he smiled. It could never be taken. Never be stolen. Purity that shames the very angels can happen... and it did. The laugh, the cry, the defiant fist rose against that which will, which does, remind the problem always was not with his passion, but his lack of control over over them. While the whiplash smile in subversive shadows, reminded that perhaps it was not his passions, but a banal world civilized that cried... that screamed desperate for the passions that erupted from his very existence as it collapsed back toward...
the banal bacinal...
...decadent land, that had traded its soul...
As feeble blows flew.. he smiled.
Run rabbit run.
Too many cannot face truth.
Harmony collapses upon...
harmony.
In the end...
It always will...
It always does.
Sunday, June 3, 2018
Somewhere
Pet Shop Boys - West Side Story Video
I drove by it today
The point
The spot
So sacred
We didn't make love
Love made us
Should I turn
In
And see the play group so similar
'cept saved with a tiny coat
Plasticine
So bright
So safe
From danger
You so willing
So safe
Done well
Despite
The cost
To your soul
So contrite
Words pass
So contrite
While
You expect me
To forget
The rising
Heat
Rising push
Of Chest
Of hips
Demanding
To be touched
Burning
Pressing
To be touched
To be consumed
Raging red full
Wasting
Only for the touch
Rebellions push forward
Cross
The touch
The brush
So light
Magnificent
Slide
So soft
Magnificent
Trace
Drawing kiss
In case Maria
forgot
The gift of Tony
Upon her
Thighs
Welcoming heat
The slip
The burn
Movements
Soft slow
Perfect
Somehow
Someway
Somewhere
Well find a new way of giving
There's Place for us
I drove by it today
The point
The spot
So sacred
We didn't make love
Love made us
Should I turn
In
And see the play group so similar
'cept saved with a tiny coat
Plasticine
So bright
So safe
From danger
You so willing
So safe
Done well
Despite
The cost
To your soul
So contrite
Words pass
So contrite
While
You expect me
To forget
The rising
Heat
Rising push
Of Chest
Of hips
Demanding
To be touched
Burning
Pressing
To be touched
To be consumed
Raging red full
Wasting
Only for the touch
Rebellions push forward
Cross
The touch
The brush
So light
Magnificent
Slide
So soft
Magnificent
Trace
Drawing kiss
In case Maria
forgot
The gift of Tony
Upon her
Thighs
Welcoming heat
The slip
The burn
Movements
Soft slow
Perfect
Somehow
Someway
Somewhere
Well find a new way of giving
There's Place for us
Wednesday, May 23, 2018
Bamboleo
Gipsy Kings: Bamboleo
Sonrisa torcida Detrás de los ojos risueños Ella supo Qué Ella querÃa
Decir
En el juego
Labios frunciendo Pulsando En la guardia De la luz media Salvación Ofrecido por la luna
Como Ella se mueve Pulsando Anhelo Conducción Calor del edificio Mientras Orejeras plateadas flash Debajo La gloriosa cascada Ondulación del cabello a través de hombros Broncearse Orgulloso Han llevado a cabo El peso El mundo TodavÃa La risa Todo el rato Ella sonrÃe Caderas Asà que svelt Movimiento Hacia Ese Para cual Ella bailará Seducir Con el movimiento Rythmic Implacable En adoquines Piataza Doblando en las curvas Siempre flexionando En las curvas Suave Lento Confidente Legumbres Empujando hacia Gol De su deseo Mientras la sonrisa Muy torcido Tan perfecto Corsé Sobre descarado Labios Anhelo Congelado Para el toque De vida Balia yo Ellos lloran Sus piernas Caderas Pechos Cara Ojos Riendo Llorar solo Balia yo Balie me Mientras estás en las sombras Ella anhelaba el toque Consumidor Buring Furioso Muévete conmigo Encuentrame Dibuja de mi La quema edificio Calor Anhelo
Balia yo Balie me
Balie me
Crooked smile
Behind laughing eyes
She knew
What
She wanted
To say
In the play
Lips pursing
Pulsing
In the guard
Of the halflight
Salvation
Offered by the moon
As
She moves
Pulsing
Longing
Driving
Building heat
While
Silver ear rings flash
Beneath
The glorious cascade
Hair billowing
across shoulders
Tan
Proud
They have held
The weight
The world
Yet
The laugh
All the while
She smiles
Hips
So svelt
Move
Towards
That
For which
She will dance
Seduce
With the move
Rythmic
Unrelenting
In cobblestones
Piataza
Bending at the curves
Always bending
At the curves
Soft
Slow
Confident
Pulse
Pushing towards
Goal
Of her desire
While the smile
So crooked
So perfect
Stays
Upon brazen
Lips
Longing
Frozen
For the touch
Of life
Balia me
They Cry
Her legs
Hips
Breasts
Face
Eyes
Laughing
Cry only
Balia yo
Balie me
While in the shadows
She longed for the touch
Consuming
Buring
Furious
Move with me
Find me
Draw from me
The burning
Building
Heat
Longing
Balia yo
Balia me
Balia me
Sonrisa torcida Detrás de los ojos risueños Ella supo Qué Ella querÃa
Decir
En el juego
Labios frunciendo Pulsando En la guardia De la luz media Salvación Ofrecido por la luna
Como Ella se mueve Pulsando Anhelo Conducción Calor del edificio Mientras Orejeras plateadas flash Debajo La gloriosa cascada Ondulación del cabello a través de hombros Broncearse Orgulloso Han llevado a cabo El peso El mundo TodavÃa La risa Todo el rato Ella sonrÃe Caderas Asà que svelt Movimiento Hacia Ese Para cual Ella bailará Seducir Con el movimiento Rythmic Implacable En adoquines Piataza Doblando en las curvas Siempre flexionando En las curvas Suave Lento Confidente Legumbres Empujando hacia Gol De su deseo Mientras la sonrisa Muy torcido Tan perfecto Corsé Sobre descarado Labios Anhelo Congelado Para el toque De vida Balia yo Ellos lloran Sus piernas Caderas Pechos Cara Ojos Riendo Llorar solo Balia yo Balie me Mientras estás en las sombras Ella anhelaba el toque Consumidor Buring Furioso Muévete conmigo Encuentrame Dibuja de mi La quema edificio Calor Anhelo
Balia yo Balie me
Balie me
Crooked smile
Behind laughing eyes
She knew
What
She wanted
To say
In the play
Lips pursing
Pulsing
In the guard
Of the halflight
Salvation
Offered by the moon
As
She moves
Pulsing
Longing
Driving
Building heat
While
Silver ear rings flash
Beneath
The glorious cascade
Hair billowing
across shoulders
Tan
Proud
They have held
The weight
The world
Yet
The laugh
All the while
She smiles
Hips
So svelt
Move
Towards
That
For which
She will dance
Seduce
With the move
Rythmic
Unrelenting
In cobblestones
Piataza
Bending at the curves
Always bending
At the curves
Soft
Slow
Confident
Pulse
Pushing towards
Goal
Of her desire
While the smile
So crooked
So perfect
Stays
Upon brazen
Lips
Longing
Frozen
For the touch
Of life
Balia me
They Cry
Her legs
Hips
Breasts
Face
Eyes
Laughing
Cry only
Balia yo
Balie me
While in the shadows
She longed for the touch
Consuming
Buring
Furious
Move with me
Find me
Draw from me
The burning
Building
Heat
Longing
Balia yo
Balia me
Balia me
Saturday, May 12, 2018
The moment
Rihanna - We Found Love ft. Calvin Harris
Hopeless
Means nothing
There is always hope
Her greeting
The soft part of her letgs
Never went unobserved
Or the soft draw along the spine
Of the book
Coinciding with the bite of her lip
The moment burning
Would remain
As she stood
As she waited
As she longed
For him
Contact
She waited
Leaning against
His car
Waiting only
For the invite in
She didn't know
How he longed
For the touch
The caress
Enveloping
To draw
Her
To him
The press
The pull
To be lost
In his kiss
As his burning
Longed
For her
Perhaps for a moment
Sacred
His longing
To devour
Envelop
Her
If only for a moment
Stolen
To match
Heat
For
Heat
Burning
In completion
Ecstasy
If she would
Move
Beyond
For a moment
A moment
Eternal
Friday, May 11, 2018
What else
The Rolling Stones Heaven (Nicolas Rada Unofficial Remix)
The one
So precious
Gentle
Body press
Against mine
Twilitght gone
The moment
For one
To move
His hand longs
To press
The softness of her neck
Close
Ever so
Ever so
Pull close
Her
To
Him
Her burning heat
Could be disguised
for a moent
in the shifting char
None but Her could know
Woul
In her silent rub
Ever so
building higher
Her laugh
Her grin
Foreer hiding
The heat within
In the laugh
half smoke
Half laugher
As the press
Draws
Hard
From the
Soft
Pressing
Reisistance
Against
Her longing
Onslaught
The gods
Wait
To delight
In the
Supple feel
Upper thighs
So soft
So drawing
Longing
To feel his touch
In the interval
Of kisses
So light
So hot
Burning trace
Up
While she
Exteds
Further
A little
Lost
Drunk
In heer desire
Her hands
Trace from her belly
Up
Towards
The heaven
She always knew
If only for a moment
While his press
Ushered her
Toward
The Heaven
She had only dreamed of
Had only felt of
If only for a moment
Touching spread
Pusing nerves
Drew
Him
Where she unged
Where she felt
The death
If only for a moment
To live
To die
In his arms
For a moment
Fleeting
Made all of it
Worth it
For in his burning touch
She had reached heaven
In the trace of his kiss
She had entered
Paradise
The one
So precious
Gentle
Body press
Against mine
Twilitght gone
The moment
For one
To move
His hand longs
To press
The softness of her neck
Close
Ever so
Ever so
Pull close
Her
To
Him
Her burning heat
Could be disguised
for a moent
in the shifting char
None but Her could know
Woul
In her silent rub
Ever so
building higher
Her laugh
Her grin
Foreer hiding
The heat within
In the laugh
half smoke
Half laugher
As the press
Draws
Hard
From the
Soft
Pressing
Reisistance
Against
Her longing
Onslaught
The gods
Wait
To delight
In the
Supple feel
Upper thighs
So soft
So drawing
Longing
To feel his touch
In the interval
Of kisses
So light
So hot
Burning trace
Up
While she
Exteds
Further
A little
Lost
Drunk
In heer desire
Her hands
Trace from her belly
Up
Towards
The heaven
She always knew
If only for a moment
While his press
Ushered her
Toward
The Heaven
She had only dreamed of
Had only felt of
If only for a moment
Touching spread
Pusing nerves
Drew
Him
Where she unged
Where she felt
The death
If only for a moment
To live
To die
In his arms
For a moment
Fleeting
Made all of it
Worth it
For in his burning touch
She had reached heaven
In the trace of his kiss
She had entered
Paradise
Thursday, May 10, 2018
Heaven
The Rolling Stones Heaven (Nicolas Rada Unofficial Remix)
The one
So precious
Gentle
Body press
Against mine
Twilitght gone
The moment
For one
To move
His hand longs
To press
The softness of her neck
Close
Ever so
Ever so
Pull close
Her
To
Him
Her burning heat
Could be disguised
for a moent
in the shifting char
None but Her could know
Would know
In her silent rub
Ever so
building higher
Her laugh
Her grin
Foreer hiding
The heat within
In the laugh
half smoke
Half laugher
As the press
Draws
Hard
From the
Soft
Pressing
Reisistance
Against
Her longing
Onslaught
The gods
Wait
To delight
In the
Supple feel
Upper thighs
So soft
So drawing
Longing
To feel his touch
In the interval
Of kisses
So light
So hot
Burning trace
Up
While she
Extends
Further
A little
Lost
Drunk
Desire
Her hands
Trace from her belly
Up
Towards
The heaven
She always knew
If only for a moment
While his press
Ushered her
Toward
The Heaven
She had only dreamed of
Had only felt of
If only for a moment
Touching spread
Pulsing nerves
Drew
Him
Where she hungered
Where she felt
The death
If only for a moment
To live
To die
In his arms
For a moment
Fleeting
Made all of it
Worth it
For in his burning touch
She had reached heaven
In the trace of his kiss
She had entered
Paradise
The one
So precious
Gentle
Body press
Against mine
Twilitght gone
The moment
For one
To move
His hand longs
To press
The softness of her neck
Close
Ever so
Ever so
Pull close
Her
To
Him
Her burning heat
Could be disguised
for a moent
in the shifting char
None but Her could know
Would know
In her silent rub
Ever so
building higher
Her laugh
Her grin
Foreer hiding
The heat within
In the laugh
half smoke
Half laugher
As the press
Draws
Hard
From the
Soft
Pressing
Reisistance
Against
Her longing
Onslaught
The gods
Wait
To delight
In the
Supple feel
Upper thighs
So soft
So drawing
Longing
To feel his touch
In the interval
Of kisses
So light
So hot
Burning trace
Up
While she
Extends
Further
A little
Lost
Drunk
Desire
Her hands
Trace from her belly
Up
Towards
The heaven
She always knew
If only for a moment
While his press
Ushered her
Toward
The Heaven
She had only dreamed of
Had only felt of
If only for a moment
Touching spread
Pulsing nerves
Drew
Him
Where she hungered
Where she felt
The death
If only for a moment
To live
To die
In his arms
For a moment
Fleeting
Made all of it
Worth it
For in his burning touch
She had reached heaven
In the trace of his kiss
She had entered
Paradise
Tuesday, May 8, 2018
Sometimes
Peter Gabriel - In Your Eyes (Secret World Live)
He
Would drive
So far
Headlights illuminating
nothing
With each pass
Only darkness created
Poured out while
Passing
The road
A cement
Mississippi
Caressing movement
Forever forward
Forever distant
While memorials
Pass
As silent sententials
On the side
Moments
Transformative
The burning slide
The moments death
Bursting with life
The touch
The caress
As they
Slide
By sight
While memory
The wolf
Rises
Bites
Strains
At the constraints
Placed
Against
The world
So far distant
From the world
Of hope
He looks
Only to find
Her eyes
The gentle tempest
Recognizing
Accepting
Longing
Before
The clouding
She knew
But could not submit
She would remain
The flotsam
Tossed dead
By the rivers bed
Side
To be lost in the foam
Yet
She billows
Rises
With
the froth
Clings to life
Longing
Waiting
For the one
To find her discarded
driftwood soul
And caress
While he
Waited
For the slightest movement
Any movement towards
Any
Waiting in a stasis
Devastating
While she waited in her
Frothing
Devastation
She bought
With the price of her soul
Salud!
I get so lost sometimes
So it goes
He
Would drive
So far
Headlights illuminating
nothing
With each pass
Only darkness created
Poured out while
Passing
The road
A cement
Mississippi
Caressing movement
Forever forward
Forever distant
While memorials
Pass
As silent sententials
On the side
Moments
Transformative
The burning slide
The moments death
Bursting with life
The touch
The caress
As they
Slide
By sight
While memory
The wolf
Rises
Bites
Strains
At the constraints
Placed
Against
The world
So far distant
From the world
Of hope
He looks
Only to find
Her eyes
The gentle tempest
Recognizing
Accepting
Longing
Before
The clouding
She knew
But could not submit
She would remain
The flotsam
Tossed dead
By the rivers bed
Side
To be lost in the foam
Yet
She billows
Rises
With
the froth
Clings to life
Longing
Waiting
For the one
To find her discarded
driftwood soul
And caress
While he
Waited
For the slightest movement
Any movement towards
Any
Waiting in a stasis
Devastating
While she waited in her
Frothing
Devastation
She bought
With the price of her soul
Salud!
I get so lost sometimes
So it goes
Sunday, April 29, 2018
Ready steady....
Madonna - Ray Of Light
It happens. Every morning. Pioneer? Prisioner? Victim? Victor? What will you choose? For in the end, you know, it is your choice.
The song, so bittersweet, from a dusty haired siren, filters to you. Call to rise? Call to your death? You laugh. It's all you can do.
All you can.
For its your choice.
It is your dance.
In movements...
Subtle soft
Move majestic!
Don't count on others. They will turn. Loyalty means nothing to them. I suppose it shouldn't. The world was here first. The game goes on.
Every mountian climbed, finds only another mountain. Climb anyway. In the struggle, is life. And where ever their is life. There is hope.
Climb.
You are magnificent. Remember that. The weight is not so heavy. You can bear it. You will bear it. You have done it all your life. Do it smiling. They cannot break you.
They will not break you.
With only a quick movement, turn the smile into a smirk.
You are a survivor.
The gods wait...
To delight in you.
In you.
You are a miracle walking.
You are the thunder.
You are the lightning.
You possess power.
Unleashed...
Makes sure...
The bastard's wont win
They could never win
It's merely there game
Where you refuse
To be a simple pawn
You are so much more
Unrestrained
I tell you
Only
What you already know
You are the Victor
You are the Pioneer
The day
is yours
Ready
Steady
Go!
It happens. Every morning. Pioneer? Prisioner? Victim? Victor? What will you choose? For in the end, you know, it is your choice.
The song, so bittersweet, from a dusty haired siren, filters to you. Call to rise? Call to your death? You laugh. It's all you can do.
All you can.
For its your choice.
It is your dance.
In movements...
Subtle soft
Move majestic!
Don't count on others. They will turn. Loyalty means nothing to them. I suppose it shouldn't. The world was here first. The game goes on.
Every mountian climbed, finds only another mountain. Climb anyway. In the struggle, is life. And where ever their is life. There is hope.
Climb.
You are magnificent. Remember that. The weight is not so heavy. You can bear it. You will bear it. You have done it all your life. Do it smiling. They cannot break you.
They will not break you.
With only a quick movement, turn the smile into a smirk.
You are a survivor.
The gods wait...
To delight in you.
In you.
You are a miracle walking.
You are the thunder.
You are the lightning.
You possess power.
Unleashed...
Makes sure...
The bastard's wont win
They could never win
It's merely there game
Where you refuse
To be a simple pawn
You are so much more
Unrestrained
I tell you
Only
What you already know
You are the Victor
You are the Pioneer
The day
is yours
Ready
Steady
Go!
Saturday, April 28, 2018
The strech
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fiKj1FNBE3Q
She was so clever. Her stretch, might loose her balance. Called him to place, his hands on her hips. So full. So supple. So glorious
The soft supple curves... burning. Waiting. Wanting.
She turned her head. The smile. To let, it be known, advance would be welcome. If only he would listen to the drums. To her drums. Beating. Pelting. Burning to be met the touch by flesh. His flesh. In her most secret, her most sacred. Heat rises.
One of his hands followed her supple curve down. The other up. The rise. A smile accentuated by her press back. The brush. The touch. Flesh crying to flesh.
Contact.
She waited a moment. This would make it seem a mistake perhpas. Till he pressed forward. Knowing her message was received, her press now turned to a twist.
His hands determined slow.
One traced along the line. Accompanied by, heat so burning. So stressing. For the touch. So close. So far. The other felt, the glory, of her weight, so full, so glorious, so... trapped. In its lace coffin. Yet he felt, the weight, so laden. So constrained. Points desperate to be... to exist... so free. Could he? Would he? Then she felt, his pushing down. Of her elastic barrier. The touch. The trace. Against skin sacred.
Her grin turned towards something different. Desire fuming. The adults game, the adults play, fuming. Her soft pressed, so elegantly, against his hard. She pushed. She pulled. She...
Longed.
Up. Down. The way. As his hands pressed her modes. Erogenous. The feel. The drive. She belonged to him. For a moment. Unspoken. Yet in that moment frozen... she lived. Fully.
Oh so fully.
As she felt his touch rise. Pass all corridors elastic, into the ecstatic. Plunging into her desire. Press into greeting hips. So heated. Collapsing onto fulfilled points as he slipped beyond, into, desire so fuming. So wanting. So waiting.
Her eyes closed. May she know. She was so ever beautiful. So ever wanted. As she greeted. His passion laid bare.
The touch.
Waits.
She was so clever. Her stretch, might loose her balance. Called him to place, his hands on her hips. So full. So supple. So glorious
The soft supple curves... burning. Waiting. Wanting.
She turned her head. The smile. To let, it be known, advance would be welcome. If only he would listen to the drums. To her drums. Beating. Pelting. Burning to be met the touch by flesh. His flesh. In her most secret, her most sacred. Heat rises.
One of his hands followed her supple curve down. The other up. The rise. A smile accentuated by her press back. The brush. The touch. Flesh crying to flesh.
Contact.
She waited a moment. This would make it seem a mistake perhpas. Till he pressed forward. Knowing her message was received, her press now turned to a twist.
His hands determined slow.
One traced along the line. Accompanied by, heat so burning. So stressing. For the touch. So close. So far. The other felt, the glory, of her weight, so full, so glorious, so... trapped. In its lace coffin. Yet he felt, the weight, so laden. So constrained. Points desperate to be... to exist... so free. Could he? Would he? Then she felt, his pushing down. Of her elastic barrier. The touch. The trace. Against skin sacred.
Her grin turned towards something different. Desire fuming. The adults game, the adults play, fuming. Her soft pressed, so elegantly, against his hard. She pushed. She pulled. She...
Longed.
Up. Down. The way. As his hands pressed her modes. Erogenous. The feel. The drive. She belonged to him. For a moment. Unspoken. Yet in that moment frozen... she lived. Fully.
Oh so fully.
As she felt his touch rise. Pass all corridors elastic, into the ecstatic. Plunging into her desire. Press into greeting hips. So heated. Collapsing onto fulfilled points as he slipped beyond, into, desire so fuming. So wanting. So waiting.
Her eyes closed. May she know. She was so ever beautiful. So ever wanted. As she greeted. His passion laid bare.
The touch.
Waits.
Thursday, April 19, 2018
So
"Desert Rose" by Sting featuring Aishwarya Rai
The move
At the beginning
So sweet
So innocent
Disguising
The desire
Earthen
So
Desperate
With each
Centimeter
Each inch
Higher
Across
Her thigh
So unblemeshed
So hidden
Pure
Your lust
Desire
Drawing his
Higher
That feels
The touch
Of his tongue
Forever rising
As she
Desperately awaits
To die
In each advance
As each touch
Every kiss
Sapps
Life
As it replenishes
To be caught
In the rising passion
His hands
Trace
Along skin
So hidden
Yet
So calling
For the touch
The press
Of another
The feel
The whole
Made
Complete
The rising burn
Fulfilled
Yet
His touch
Chills
To only enflame
The burn
Of the fire
Waiteing
To be fulfilled
But in the shadows
Her fire burns
So hot
So heated
Waiting only
For
His touch
To the point
So hidden
So desperately
Lest someone
Discover
Her passion
The churning
Burning
Point
of fascomatom
That his tongue
Draws upon
Circulation
Surrounding
Give yourself
To me
He cried
He knew
Her
Reasoner
Hollow
Yet the trace
The tongue
Continued rise
Citculang
Of you hips
Against
His cirle
So strong
Waiting only for yout
Response
A rise
aginst
His pelt
So gentle
The move
At the beginning
So sweet
So innocent
Disguising
The desire
Earthen
So
Desperate
With each
Centimeter
Each inch
Higher
Across
Her thigh
So unblemeshed
So hidden
Pure
Your lust
Desire
Drawing his
Higher
That feels
The touch
Of his tongue
Forever rising
As she
Desperately awaits
To die
In each advance
As each touch
Every kiss
Sapps
Life
As it replenishes
To be caught
In the rising passion
His hands
Trace
Along skin
So hidden
Yet
So calling
For the touch
The press
Of another
The feel
The whole
Made
Complete
The rising burn
Fulfilled
Yet
His touch
Chills
To only enflame
The burn
Of the fire
Waiteing
To be fulfilled
But in the shadows
Her fire burns
So hot
So heated
Waiting only
For
His touch
To the point
So hidden
So desperately
Lest someone
Discover
Her passion
The churning
Burning
Point
of fascomatom
That his tongue
Draws upon
Circulation
Surrounding
Give yourself
To me
He cried
He knew
Her
Reasoner
Hollow
Yet the trace
The tongue
Continued rise
Citculang
Of you hips
Against
His cirle
So strong
Waiting only for yout
Response
A rise
aginst
His pelt
So gentle
Gone
KT Tunstall - "The Boys of Summer"
She will wait
always
wait
Until
The female
Has replaced the male
So be it
In cloistered shadows
The laugh resounds
Was it a dream
Despite
Reviews glowing
Of the artist stuggling
How his move
How his pause
Makes
A difference
To someone
Will change
Someone
What did he know?
What did
Why did
It matter?
He spoke of the one
The struggle against
The machine
So powerful
So
Omnipresent
He made a differnce
He made a change
To hands clutching
Dismantiling
A system psychopathic
That rewards only those
Who cower
Should he
Speak of
The she?
Hair excellent
Body
Glorious
She knew
The touch
Shimmering in the half light
Who could afford to loose
Herself for a moment
Stolen
From herself
From society
She does not know
Or knows perfectly well
So many
Choices
So many
I never will forget those nights
Remember how I made you scream
So long ago
So long
As she waited for her boys
Of summer
The past
Collides
With the present
So much
So
So
She dances
As love
Dies
Slowly
Hidden pirouettes
Crying out for life
As the turn
Reveals
Nothing
Save the gasp
The cry
For fulfillment
She abandoned
So long
Ago
So they wait
Till the boys of summer
Are gone
So far
Gone
She will wait
always
wait
Until
The female
Has replaced the male
So be it
In cloistered shadows
The laugh resounds
Was it a dream
Despite
Reviews glowing
Of the artist stuggling
How his move
How his pause
Makes
A difference
To someone
Will change
Someone
What did he know?
What did
Why did
It matter?
He spoke of the one
The struggle against
The machine
So powerful
So
Omnipresent
He made a differnce
He made a change
To hands clutching
Dismantiling
A system psychopathic
That rewards only those
Who cower
Should he
Speak of
The she?
Hair excellent
Body
Glorious
She knew
The touch
Shimmering in the half light
Who could afford to loose
Herself for a moment
Stolen
From herself
From society
She does not know
Or knows perfectly well
So many
Choices
So many
I never will forget those nights
Remember how I made you scream
So long ago
So long
As she waited for her boys
Of summer
The past
Collides
With the present
So much
So
So
She dances
As love
Dies
Slowly
Hidden pirouettes
Crying out for life
As the turn
Reveals
Nothing
Save the gasp
The cry
For fulfillment
She abandoned
So long
Ago
So they wait
Till the boys of summer
Are gone
So far
Gone
Wednesday, April 18, 2018
Spaniard
Gladiator: Are you not entertained?
Spaniard
They would call him
Rising amongst the others
The best
The ultimo
La prima
Who cares
While his fellows
Would cry out
of students
Who won awards
All the while
A little fatter
A little more hollow
Than the year before
He took pride in all of his students
Perhaps not glorious
Perhaps not beautiful
But the ones who had for fight
For each success
Step by step
Slice by silice
Carving out
Demanding of the world
What she would not revel
At first
So it was
Like his school
That didn't even call him for a first round
Despite awards won
Recognition by others
Decrying glory
His
To ears gone so deaf
To eyes so blind
Simply because
The people
Whom he elevated
Called Spaniard
So it was
Are you not entertained?
Are you?
The cry
Spaniard
Carries him out of the arena
Spaniard
They would call him
Rising amongst the others
The best
The ultimo
La prima
Who cares
While his fellows
Would cry out
of students
Who won awards
All the while
A little fatter
A little more hollow
Than the year before
He took pride in all of his students
Perhaps not glorious
Perhaps not beautiful
But the ones who had for fight
For each success
Step by step
Slice by silice
Carving out
Demanding of the world
What she would not revel
At first
So it was
Like his school
That didn't even call him for a first round
Despite awards won
Recognition by others
Decrying glory
His
To ears gone so deaf
To eyes so blind
Simply because
The people
Whom he elevated
Called Spaniard
So it was
Are you not entertained?
Are you?
The cry
Spaniard
Carries him out of the arena
Sunday, April 15, 2018
Every time you smile
Arcade fire: Everything now
I'm in the black again
Can't make it back again
Can't pretend
Trapped
In a homogeneous hell
The smile fades
She made it
From her trip
driving with the headlights off
The loved her
They touched her
So distant
So despeerate
As the odemoeter
Clicked off
Every mile passed
Every Tuesday
Or Thursday
Depending on the presence
Of the other
The one
She was supposed to proclaim
Everything now
Unless it was at night
After a time
When she
Could
Contact
To give
The hollow promise
Of a touch
The heated bush
Across
The thigh
She would be
So supplicant
Parting
For a moment
A hidden moment
Everything now
Life desperate
Promise
So desperate
If they wanted
She would
Reveal
In half
The promise
Of making whole
The city cries
Wait
Until she
Can't
Fulfill
Her cry
Her promise
Hollow
So hoped
So promised
But until
Her reveal
Coquettish
Everything now
Longing for the rise
Passion devastating
The heated kiss"
rising along her thigh
Desperate to meet
The rising heat
From the apex
Golden
To bury
To press
To be home
For a moment
Daddy how come you're never around?
Everything now
Every time you smile
It's a fake
I know
Yet
Join the celebration
Can't make it back again
From everything now
I'm in the black again
Can't make it back again
Can't pretend
Trapped
In a homogeneous hell
The smile fades
She made it
From her trip
driving with the headlights off
The loved her
They touched her
So distant
So despeerate
As the odemoeter
Clicked off
Every mile passed
Every Tuesday
Or Thursday
Depending on the presence
Of the other
The one
She was supposed to proclaim
Everything now
Unless it was at night
After a time
When she
Could
Contact
To give
The hollow promise
Of a touch
The heated bush
Across
The thigh
She would be
So supplicant
Parting
For a moment
A hidden moment
Everything now
Life desperate
Promise
So desperate
If they wanted
She would
Reveal
In half
The promise
Of making whole
The city cries
Wait
Until she
Can't
Fulfill
Her cry
Her promise
Hollow
So hoped
So promised
But until
Her reveal
Coquettish
Everything now
Longing for the rise
Passion devastating
The heated kiss"
rising along her thigh
Desperate to meet
The rising heat
From the apex
Golden
To bury
To press
To be home
For a moment
Daddy how come you're never around?
Everything now
Every time you smile
It's a fake
I know
Yet
Join the celebration
Can't make it back again
From everything now
Thursday, April 5, 2018
Father's son
The Magnificent Seven Theme • Elmer Bernstein
Different age.
Perhaps.
Ferocious men stadning in the way of anyone who stood for the lesser men, the unknown men, the forgotten men. Pier-stone on the periphery... could be aided.
Maybe so. Maybe not.
Father's son.
That's me.
She walked into the office. He caught her case. It was happenstance. Ragged, transient, son of Dixie proud. Louisiana girl in all her glory. Great with child, great with problems. Not to be confused with the so many that had entered his office door before. Yet he was a lawyer so filled with vim, so filled with vigor, take the case... fight for justice. Justice was that he would serve. The blind bitch... she would be forced to see those who were brought before.
If the tears swelled in her eyes, so be it. She would see. Her scales would tip in his favor. The favor of right. That is what our grand experiment was founded upon after all. Wasn't it? Even if you would make him travel all the way to the highest court of the U.S.A heDem would make you relent, realize, that you could do little less than offer the prize, to his client, wanting only to awake to the American dream. If he must be the magic maker... so be it.
So it was.
Then came I.
His offspring. Wanting more, demanding more, than no less. All are equal, all are the same. Beliefs, so simple... so naive. Somehow believing that the order, so established, would let him get away. With a simpleton belief that love was pure, that all would see, each other, as facets of themselves. What a fool. Simple. He took the beats of his overlords. So simple. So caustic. Simple lips Standing so proud
His films aroused such feelings from those. The empowered unvoiced to which he had given a moment of voice... of choice. Unwilling to remain victims... but victors. This was not to be had. Not in hollowed sanctums where the oppressed would forever remain r the oppressed. They preferred to remain in the stasis rather than fight for the advance. Salud. You have your own fathers. And I am not your son.
I am my Father's son.
The one who took a case to the Supreme Court. The one that ensured equality for all.
And just to let you know... I am his son.
And so far... by you...
I am not impressed.
Salud.
Different age.
Perhaps.
Ferocious men stadning in the way of anyone who stood for the lesser men, the unknown men, the forgotten men. Pier-stone on the periphery... could be aided.
Maybe so. Maybe not.
Father's son.
That's me.
She walked into the office. He caught her case. It was happenstance. Ragged, transient, son of Dixie proud. Louisiana girl in all her glory. Great with child, great with problems. Not to be confused with the so many that had entered his office door before. Yet he was a lawyer so filled with vim, so filled with vigor, take the case... fight for justice. Justice was that he would serve. The blind bitch... she would be forced to see those who were brought before.
If the tears swelled in her eyes, so be it. She would see. Her scales would tip in his favor. The favor of right. That is what our grand experiment was founded upon after all. Wasn't it? Even if you would make him travel all the way to the highest court of the U.S.A heDem would make you relent, realize, that you could do little less than offer the prize, to his client, wanting only to awake to the American dream. If he must be the magic maker... so be it.
So it was.
Then came I.
His offspring. Wanting more, demanding more, than no less. All are equal, all are the same. Beliefs, so simple... so naive. Somehow believing that the order, so established, would let him get away. With a simpleton belief that love was pure, that all would see, each other, as facets of themselves. What a fool. Simple. He took the beats of his overlords. So simple. So caustic. Simple lips Standing so proud
His films aroused such feelings from those. The empowered unvoiced to which he had given a moment of voice... of choice. Unwilling to remain victims... but victors. This was not to be had. Not in hollowed sanctums where the oppressed would forever remain r the oppressed. They preferred to remain in the stasis rather than fight for the advance. Salud. You have your own fathers. And I am not your son.
I am my Father's son.
The one who took a case to the Supreme Court. The one that ensured equality for all.
And just to let you know... I am his son.
And so far... by you...
I am not impressed.
Salud.
Monday, April 2, 2018
Three.
Mariachi Cover - Linger - The Cranberries
Three.
That's what they say.
One must fall in love three times. The first. Puppy. So blind. An introduction. To a world... so Byzantine. Alone traveling catacombs desperate for a light. Yet believing the light cast out could suffice. Just as the mayfly believes... in its short life, it would last forever. For it's short life, be it a day... or two, it was forever. The laughter, the elation, combined with the devastation, each were so short so fundamental if only to build to the number two.
He was there. Gifts, one to the other. For him it was Regatta del Blanc. Hey, he thought it was cool. She enjoyed. Or at least she said so. A month later, phone call from Paris, would signify that this ex-patriot should look for someone else.
So it goes.
Number two. This is the one. The burning fire that is supposed to forge the metal. Blind beauty creates the most powerful of all. The searing burn of every joy. The utter delight of every dismay. Smelting touches launch passion ready to ferocious flames leapt into so blindly. So blind. Siren's song crying each to each. To feel the little death of each moment apart, to be repaid by the cataclysmic renaissance upon the reunion. The rejoin of one to the other, to renew the one forged by the two. In defiance of all... the one against all.
He knew this too. The cataclysmal catalysist. The one that forced him to drop is mask if only to feel the searing hot touch, as his hand rose. Ever higher. The hip. The thigh. The longing, the pulling, the shallow death just a moment from life. And she... so it seemed.. longed to be made complete. In the other. Til the others, became the sedating placebo. For the truth.
The truth.
Yet...
This to...
must come to an end.
So they say. In order to reach the third. A love marked... scared by this world. One is supposed to bow and accept. Less than. For nothing can be... settle for less. Times. Occurrences. Her finger tracing along the book spine. The clutching of hips, so soft, so subtle, so tight, that led his mind to wander... the tracing kiss along skin so soft, forever rising towards her heat. Shallow, action following only action. Quenchable fires surrounded by the difficulty... quenchable fires die.
The past. The future. All caught in a tense. A tense that makes all that much more tense.
She might whiseper a secret, manic-depression. He might believe.
That is until he saw Goodwill Hunting once again. One was a man caught in a past he could not escape, the other a man, such talent, who was afraid to let the future into his present. Sociopath they called him. One who could bend, others to make them think that he was there, all the while reserving, so they could avoid the pain... crushing... devestating... a pain he knew all too well. Feeble blows showing fear, knowledge, that she had lost out so long ago.
He laughed.
So it was.
Wednesday, March 14, 2018
Truth or consequence
300_there goes my hero
So it begins. As always. In the storm you can depend on none for your salvation. It's all really in whatever redemption you earned from your own hands.
The one against many. The one... against the world. Who will support? One cannot worry. They will come. They will arise... or the won't. The best will come regardless. That is why you picked them. The unwanted. The scourged of society. For by picking them, they would offer unto you the loyalty so fierce. Shunned by the world... what did they have to loose. What did anyone have to loose?
The world.
So piecemeal.
So lost wandering.
Unknowing.
What was worth something, and what was merely tinfoil.
A shiny new thing to distract.
The masses.
From the grind of life living. Can you understand? Do you understand?
She... oh don't bring up the She...
Was beautiful... but that could never be enough, She listened to to the voices inside her head. Crying out that her breasts were malformed. With a doctors switch, a tiny cut... all would be well... in that which was so perfect. Run from that which knows in imperfection was beauty. All it took was money... ever so precious... to remove the human condition
The snip... the scalpel. All under the doctors supervision. Undergo that which made her human... to transform into a porcelain doll.
All the while... he fought. Perhaps blindly to save her... the one beyond salvation... or perhaps for himself... earning a redemption that was never needed. Save the fight. World you will not take me, I will not be supplicant to your travesty. The travesty of your justice.
Obey. Though you see the creation, supplication, of unequals surround. Believe that you are somehow less than... though you are obviously excel. Listen to the voices that tell you...
not that you are less than...
;
but rather you are more powerful than you could ever know.
Remain defiant in defeat....
The world waits to delight in you
The gods wait to rejoice
You are their son
...or daughter
With each smite
Each hit
Rejoice...
For the world will never know. What can you expect? Drown yourself in your own laughter. Stand and fight. If not you... then who? Forever remain the one who is just one step out the majority. Civilization has never progressed, not without its dissidents. Smiling.
Curving.
Waiting...
Only for the moment.
You are only the three hundred. Standing against those that would make you bow. Kneel. Give an knee. Your answer, all the while, is only your grip only is tighter on your sword.
So it begins. As always. In the storm you can depend on none for your salvation. It's all really in whatever redemption you earned from your own hands.
The one against many. The one... against the world. Who will support? One cannot worry. They will come. They will arise... or the won't. The best will come regardless. That is why you picked them. The unwanted. The scourged of society. For by picking them, they would offer unto you the loyalty so fierce. Shunned by the world... what did they have to loose. What did anyone have to loose?
The world.
So piecemeal.
So lost wandering.
Unknowing.
What was worth something, and what was merely tinfoil.
A shiny new thing to distract.
The masses.
From the grind of life living. Can you understand? Do you understand?
She... oh don't bring up the She...
Was beautiful... but that could never be enough, She listened to to the voices inside her head. Crying out that her breasts were malformed. With a doctors switch, a tiny cut... all would be well... in that which was so perfect. Run from that which knows in imperfection was beauty. All it took was money... ever so precious... to remove the human condition
The snip... the scalpel. All under the doctors supervision. Undergo that which made her human... to transform into a porcelain doll.
All the while... he fought. Perhaps blindly to save her... the one beyond salvation... or perhaps for himself... earning a redemption that was never needed. Save the fight. World you will not take me, I will not be supplicant to your travesty. The travesty of your justice.
Obey. Though you see the creation, supplication, of unequals surround. Believe that you are somehow less than... though you are obviously excel. Listen to the voices that tell you...
not that you are less than...
;
but rather you are more powerful than you could ever know.
Remain defiant in defeat....
The world waits to delight in you
The gods wait to rejoice
You are their son
...or daughter
With each smite
Each hit
Rejoice...
For the world will never know. What can you expect? Drown yourself in your own laughter. Stand and fight. If not you... then who? Forever remain the one who is just one step out the majority. Civilization has never progressed, not without its dissidents. Smiling.
Curving.
Waiting...
Only for the moment.
You are only the three hundred. Standing against those that would make you bow. Kneel. Give an knee. Your answer, all the while, is only your grip only is tighter on your sword.
Tuesday, March 6, 2018
One of these days
Foo Fighters - These Days
These days.
Is it worth it.
Even.
He looked at his phone, Call from a number ever so private. Could it be her? He laughed. He had thought so much in the past. He had gotten calls so purposeful, so accidental. He would hear her confess that even though she had supposed learned the language, Hell, even joined into it, she needed one who could speak her mother tongue.
After all she was the perfect mother.
Or she would be...
One of these days.
It wasn't her. It could never be her.
It would never....
be her.
She could, she would, turn her body... till the viewers eyes were caught... just right. Just right. Shadow dances with her self. With her soul. She had forgotten. Or allowed herself to forget. What it all was really for.
Really...
For.
Yet reality would only remind...
How much
She gave up...
In a price...
She could not bear.
So she would dance in the window. Bearing nightclothes clinging, translucent. Who might she catch. Don't worry... she would release them all. To swim away, yet hover close, to see... if she... actually cared. Ever actually cared. If the dream was nothing more than a hollow reflection of that which was desired to be. Ever so desired.
One of these days...
If the dance ever stopped...
She would see...
Would have to live with...
What she had done...
So the dance would never stop.
It couldn't.
Hollow pirouettes casting out into the shadowlands, until...
One of these days...
You stop. Which will happen.
And your heart will play its final beat.
These days.
Is it worth it.
Even.
He looked at his phone, Call from a number ever so private. Could it be her? He laughed. He had thought so much in the past. He had gotten calls so purposeful, so accidental. He would hear her confess that even though she had supposed learned the language, Hell, even joined into it, she needed one who could speak her mother tongue.
After all she was the perfect mother.
Or she would be...
One of these days.
It wasn't her. It could never be her.
It would never....
be her.
She could, she would, turn her body... till the viewers eyes were caught... just right. Just right. Shadow dances with her self. With her soul. She had forgotten. Or allowed herself to forget. What it all was really for.
Really...
For.
Yet reality would only remind...
How much
She gave up...
In a price...
She could not bear.
So she would dance in the window. Bearing nightclothes clinging, translucent. Who might she catch. Don't worry... she would release them all. To swim away, yet hover close, to see... if she... actually cared. Ever actually cared. If the dream was nothing more than a hollow reflection of that which was desired to be. Ever so desired.
One of these days...
If the dance ever stopped...
She would see...
Would have to live with...
What she had done...
So the dance would never stop.
It couldn't.
Hollow pirouettes casting out into the shadowlands, until...
One of these days...
You stop. Which will happen.
And your heart will play its final beat.
Tuesday, February 27, 2018
Began
Pink Floyd: One Slip
She sat
As
She laughed
Pointed out
Meeting missed
Sip of the glass
Slowly
Turning to face
A moon
Light softened
Perpahps
In Moment
It would understnd
Love me
For a moment
For who I am
Not for who
You dream oForf me do be
She cannot see
My hands
Soft slow rise
Across her thighs
Pressing forward
Waiting for
Her eyes
To meet mine
Did she not know
Did she not understand
Across the table
Glasses
Discarded
Empty
Like
Hollow
Dreams
Longing to be filled
Waiting
Only
For the moennt
Waiting to
Only
Desensitize
The Dream
Or...
Waiting to ignite
Her fire
Burning
Below
In her sultry stare
She turned slowly
Smile
Burned
Accepted
The heat
The pull
Press
Meeting
Press
And so the infereno
Began
She sat
As
She laughed
Pointed out
Meeting missed
Sip of the glass
Slowly
Turning to face
A moon
Light softened
Perpahps
In Moment
It would understnd
Love me
For a moment
For who I am
Not for who
You dream oForf me do be
She cannot see
My hands
Soft slow rise
Across her thighs
Pressing forward
Waiting for
Her eyes
To meet mine
Did she not know
Did she not understand
Across the table
Glasses
Discarded
Empty
Like
Hollow
Dreams
Longing to be filled
Waiting
Only
For the moennt
Waiting to
Only
Desensitize
The Dream
Or...
Waiting to ignite
Her fire
Burning
Below
In her sultry stare
She turned slowly
Smile
Burned
Accepted
The heat
The pull
Press
Meeting
Press
And so the infereno
Began
Never left
2Cellos: Fragile
So it was.
A friend posted pictures from the past. Maybe most remembered the joy of frozen images Tales of victory. Tales of song. But for him... not so much.
Tony remembered fragments of war; running from one foxhole to the next. Whatever built, was only built out of the fog of war. Each momentary reprieve safe only to last a few moments. Friendships forged underneath the fuel of fire. Some would go to the next refuge, desire the dare of death.
Til he entered the one. There she stood. His Lady M. The darkness of the light hid her wounds. Point of death, point of salvation, who was to know, all Stark could do, is what he could do. The recoil of his gun was nothing. The painful bite into his shoulder was forgotten. The same syrum that meant to protect him was slowly killing him. The points of shrapnel forever digging their way to his hert from a beautiful weapon of his own design would kill him... perhaps sooner... perhaps later.
Yet gazing upon her, he knew he would die for her. Sooner... or later. All his lady Masque would do is smile. She would... could... play the game. All she had to do was look at him in that way. That curious glance of I need you, and I thank you... as only only men who have been played can truly know. She sat in the shadows.
Tony thought she was stopping the bleeding from a wound. Tired of watching her blood flow, as her life, slowly out her body. He would have helped. He was too busy fighting back.
Till he...
Looked at the she...
With the hand grenade in her hand....
Smile poised on her lips....
I love you baby...
Were her last words...
Either that...
Or what the Hell
Are you doing here
In my dugout
Final moments
Before the explosion took
That which it would
Don't worry
In the final moments
The smile never left here face
So it was.
A friend posted pictures from the past. Maybe most remembered the joy of frozen images Tales of victory. Tales of song. But for him... not so much.
Tony remembered fragments of war; running from one foxhole to the next. Whatever built, was only built out of the fog of war. Each momentary reprieve safe only to last a few moments. Friendships forged underneath the fuel of fire. Some would go to the next refuge, desire the dare of death.
Til he entered the one. There she stood. His Lady M. The darkness of the light hid her wounds. Point of death, point of salvation, who was to know, all Stark could do, is what he could do. The recoil of his gun was nothing. The painful bite into his shoulder was forgotten. The same syrum that meant to protect him was slowly killing him. The points of shrapnel forever digging their way to his hert from a beautiful weapon of his own design would kill him... perhaps sooner... perhaps later.
Yet gazing upon her, he knew he would die for her. Sooner... or later. All his lady Masque would do is smile. She would... could... play the game. All she had to do was look at him in that way. That curious glance of I need you, and I thank you... as only only men who have been played can truly know. She sat in the shadows.
Tony thought she was stopping the bleeding from a wound. Tired of watching her blood flow, as her life, slowly out her body. He would have helped. He was too busy fighting back.
Till he...
Looked at the she...
With the hand grenade in her hand....
Smile poised on her lips....
I love you baby...
Were her last words...
Either that...
Or what the Hell
Are you doing here
In my dugout
Final moments
Before the explosion took
That which it would
Don't worry
In the final moments
The smile never left here face
My firend
Pink Floyd: Hey you
Memories flood
So far
Back
Til they hit the harsh wall
So harsh
She lingers
Looking at the moon
Trying to piece together
Some answers
From its hollow light
All she had to do was look
To the side
But she
Unable to hear
Unable to know
The hand that longs
To reach
To finally touch
Something
Beyond
That which
Is only inside
A comfortable hell
A comfortable prison
That they have found
Themselves in
So encumbered by fear
That they could not come near
That
Which
Might offer a moments respite
A moments salvation
The land that longs
Filled with people
Longing to touch
Dying hands draw
Promising life
As they only pull
Down
While the life
The body
Awaits
The touch
The caress
Of life blood
Flowing new
To be loved
To be felt
To be cherished
For no one
Save who you are
To be savored
For
Who
You
Are
To be fulfilled
To live a lifetime
In a dying crush
A desperate hold
Goodbye cruel wold
Would you like to see Britannia rule again
My Friend
Memories flood
So far
Back
Til they hit the harsh wall
So harsh
She lingers
Looking at the moon
Trying to piece together
Some answers
From its hollow light
All she had to do was look
To the side
But she
Unable to hear
Unable to know
The hand that longs
To reach
To finally touch
Something
Beyond
That which
Is only inside
A comfortable hell
A comfortable prison
That they have found
Themselves in
So encumbered by fear
That they could not come near
That
Which
Might offer a moments respite
A moments salvation
The land that longs
Filled with people
Longing to touch
Dying hands draw
Promising life
As they only pull
Down
While the life
The body
Awaits
The touch
The caress
Of life blood
Flowing new
To be loved
To be felt
To be cherished
For no one
Save who you are
To be savored
For
Who
You
Are
To be fulfilled
To live a lifetime
In a dying crush
A desperate hold
Goodbye cruel wold
Would you like to see Britannia rule again
My Friend
Saturday, February 24, 2018
The heart, the mind
2CELLOS on 1 cello! Every Teardrop Is a Waterfall - Coldplay
So it was. I liked to look at the Cellos two as one brother, wild hair waving, being the heart. The other brother, ever so much demure, being the brain. Working together the two, would play, music... ever so beautiful... ever so. So it was, I thought the brother being the heart bursting with passion, movements wild, would be the leader. But no.
It was the other. It was the brain. It would forever be the brain The deviation, the creation, of music so sublime. Be it false, or be it true, it didn't really matter. It had always been in the brain. Not the heart. Though its beatings elegant... life sustaining, always hidden underneath.
Perhaps the brain was the purveyor all along of the propiganda against the heart. Create a target. It couldn't be my fault. It was the heart. The heart that forever trusted. I couldn't control myself. Well said brain. Lie. But well said.
Only...
The heart being bound existed only to react... react to the signals of the brain. Ever beating. Ever ready to life perpetuate. It was the brain however that always order the heart to continue its primal , beat The mind, with distractions simple, would send the signal to beat. Go fast, go slow, it didn't matter. The mind had already decided its plan. Self deception... or correction... it didn't matter... it was alive. For a moment, it was alive.
Body courses with energy. The delight, the touch, of another. One who says you are so much more than you will ever know. The brain, poor simple fool, would believe. In her voice his name souned safe, sounded warm, Sounded... safe.
But then
we all awke
from the dream. Don't we?
Salud!
So it was. I liked to look at the Cellos two as one brother, wild hair waving, being the heart. The other brother, ever so much demure, being the brain. Working together the two, would play, music... ever so beautiful... ever so. So it was, I thought the brother being the heart bursting with passion, movements wild, would be the leader. But no.
It was the other. It was the brain. It would forever be the brain The deviation, the creation, of music so sublime. Be it false, or be it true, it didn't really matter. It had always been in the brain. Not the heart. Though its beatings elegant... life sustaining, always hidden underneath.
Perhaps the brain was the purveyor all along of the propiganda against the heart. Create a target. It couldn't be my fault. It was the heart. The heart that forever trusted. I couldn't control myself. Well said brain. Lie. But well said.
Only...
The heart being bound existed only to react... react to the signals of the brain. Ever beating. Ever ready to life perpetuate. It was the brain however that always order the heart to continue its primal , beat The mind, with distractions simple, would send the signal to beat. Go fast, go slow, it didn't matter. The mind had already decided its plan. Self deception... or correction... it didn't matter... it was alive. For a moment, it was alive.
Body courses with energy. The delight, the touch, of another. One who says you are so much more than you will ever know. The brain, poor simple fool, would believe. In her voice his name souned safe, sounded warm, Sounded... safe.
But then
we all awke
from the dream. Don't we?
Salud!
Tuesday, February 20, 2018
Live baby live, now that the day is over
INXS - New Sensation Remix
She awaits
In the desert's
Full sun, yet
Half Hidden
While waiting
For shifting sands to reveal
The beauty of shoulders soft strong emerging
From sand
So Shifting
Ever so
My Sphinx
Curious sight
Egyptian eyes emerge
Calling casting views
To gaze
As more is revealed
All the while
Olive skin shimmers as
She smiles
Layers dissipate
Complicate
The view
What is real
What is waiting
To be revealed
She smiles
My Sphinx
Mystery hidden in the desert
A mirage?
Hollow haven of promise
Skin made of stone
Or silken soft
Waiting
For my touch
To melt
Into heated
Skin
Bronzed by the sun
Traced
Covered
Continually by the slight
Reveal
All the while
Almond eyes
Smile
Calling
Crying
For the call to life
In her reveal
Gifted for you
The twist
The turn
The smile as she hopes you saw
What she longed for you
To see
Live baby live
Spoken through
The knowing
Slanted
Grin
Live
Baby
Live.
She awaits
In the desert's
Full sun, yet
Half Hidden
While waiting
For shifting sands to reveal
The beauty of shoulders soft strong emerging
From sand
So Shifting
Ever so
My Sphinx
Curious sight
Egyptian eyes emerge
Calling casting views
To gaze
As more is revealed
All the while
Olive skin shimmers as
She smiles
Layers dissipate
Complicate
The view
What is real
What is waiting
To be revealed
She smiles
My Sphinx
Mystery hidden in the desert
A mirage?
Hollow haven of promise
Skin made of stone
Or silken soft
Waiting
For my touch
To melt
Into heated
Skin
Bronzed by the sun
Traced
Covered
Continually by the slight
Reveal
All the while
Almond eyes
Smile
Calling
Crying
For the call to life
In her reveal
Gifted for you
The twist
The turn
The smile as she hopes you saw
What she longed for you
To see
Live baby live
Spoken through
The knowing
Slanted
Grin
Live
Baby
Live.
Saturday, February 17, 2018
It's funny
Radiohead - I promise
It's funny
Yesterday a wolf broke into the Shepard's pen. It took seventeen of us. Slaughtered outright. Tore into our flesh. Innocents awaiting death... came out of time.
The well that was supposed to provide safety. Where we, sheep all, could simply eat... grow fat... await. Live lives stunted, restricted. What could be done? What should be done? Some of the sheep were ready to fight. It was their right.
Others, mewling, said no. The Shepard will protect. His crook is welcome. The rod which is used to guide should be welcome. Punishing strikes should be regarded as gifts of love. Gifts of correction. He knows best. Herd remain supplicant. Bow to his greater knowledge. He knows best. Surrender all. Remain supplicant.
Furious, they looked for the latest meme... the latest release. All proclaimed how the sheep must never use their horns against. Rams must fall silent. None should stand. Await the protection. The Shepard will come. The Shepard will protect.
Hollow words work.
Till you realize.
The Shepard... who promised to protect all... wasn't there. Indeed, by proclaiming it a wolf-free zone, he may have worked hand in hand to make sure the wolf would be successful.
Some of the rams look. They notice. The Shepard lives in a big house. He is far away... clothed in suits of wool. Dines on meals of mutton. The grease slides slowly off his lips. All the while we, the sheep, should remain supplicant. Await on him to protect. To fend against wolves that await to devour. Remain lambs. Don't use your horns. Don't defend. The Shepard will provide all.
Some regardless, began to sharpen their horns. The Shepard is fine and good, but this is my herd.
My horns.
Are ready.
It's funny.
It's funny
Yesterday a wolf broke into the Shepard's pen. It took seventeen of us. Slaughtered outright. Tore into our flesh. Innocents awaiting death... came out of time.
The well that was supposed to provide safety. Where we, sheep all, could simply eat... grow fat... await. Live lives stunted, restricted. What could be done? What should be done? Some of the sheep were ready to fight. It was their right.
Others, mewling, said no. The Shepard will protect. His crook is welcome. The rod which is used to guide should be welcome. Punishing strikes should be regarded as gifts of love. Gifts of correction. He knows best. Herd remain supplicant. Bow to his greater knowledge. He knows best. Surrender all. Remain supplicant.
Furious, they looked for the latest meme... the latest release. All proclaimed how the sheep must never use their horns against. Rams must fall silent. None should stand. Await the protection. The Shepard will come. The Shepard will protect.
Hollow words work.
Till you realize.
The Shepard... who promised to protect all... wasn't there. Indeed, by proclaiming it a wolf-free zone, he may have worked hand in hand to make sure the wolf would be successful.
Some of the rams look. They notice. The Shepard lives in a big house. He is far away... clothed in suits of wool. Dines on meals of mutton. The grease slides slowly off his lips. All the while we, the sheep, should remain supplicant. Await on him to protect. To fend against wolves that await to devour. Remain lambs. Don't use your horns. Don't defend. The Shepard will provide all.
Some regardless, began to sharpen their horns. The Shepard is fine and good, but this is my herd.
My horns.
Are ready.
It's funny.
Tuesday, February 13, 2018
Take these lies
George Michael - Freedom
All the while the kettle boils
Heat inside burring
To the steam
Building
Simmering
Waiting only for release
Lips burning
Only moments away from
The consuming touch
In a distance unbearable
So it goes
Heaven
Waits for only an advance
Minuscule
Her retreat only builds
The heat
Of the moments
Interpose
Till the collapse
Of one into
The other
The burning contact
Tension expelled
In the moment
For the moment
The burning caress
The pull
The press
Of one to the other
Where
The moment
Is the now
The burning
Is the now
Kiss so burning
So bright
So right
Consuming
As they travel
From the devouring
Messages
Unspoken
Down
Forever down
To places of pleasure
Unspoken
Yet so desired
To be contacted
By the
Burning touch
Finally
Freedom
In his advance
Timed
Measured
Her head arched
As her body relented
The release
To touch
Where she had so long desired
Yet so long prevented
Till he
With gentle kiss rising
Touched
The kettle's boil
Greeted
By the arching pleasure
Of her head
Longing
Take these lies
And make them true
Somehow
All the while the kettle boils
Heat inside burring
To the steam
Building
Simmering
Waiting only for release
Lips burning
Only moments away from
The consuming touch
In a distance unbearable
So it goes
Heaven
Waits for only an advance
Minuscule
Her retreat only builds
The heat
Of the moments
Interpose
Till the collapse
Of one into
The other
The burning contact
Tension expelled
In the moment
For the moment
The burning caress
The pull
The press
Of one to the other
Where
The moment
Is the now
The burning
Is the now
Kiss so burning
So bright
So right
Consuming
As they travel
From the devouring
Messages
Unspoken
Down
Forever down
To places of pleasure
Unspoken
Yet so desired
To be contacted
By the
Burning touch
Finally
Freedom
In his advance
Timed
Measured
Her head arched
As her body relented
The release
To touch
Where she had so long desired
Yet so long prevented
Till he
With gentle kiss rising
Touched
The kettle's boil
Greeted
By the arching pleasure
Of her head
Longing
Take these lies
And make them true
Somehow
Broken glass
Annie Lennox -Backwards/Forwards
Broken Glass
Beautiful
Scattered
Across the floor
Of that which she called home
He is on one side
If he is home
The piece of herself she sold
So that she could wake
Incomplete
While cupid laughs
In the corner
She has done so well
Selling herself
Piece
By
Piece
She never realized that was precious
Till it was gone
Glass broken
Pierced her heel
Beyond the grimace
Momentary
She would smile
While cupid laughs
In the corner
No more I love you's
While his cherubic hands
Grasped the bowstring
And let the arrow fly
Where it would
Meanwhile
She
Would bind her feet
And grin
Though
The grimace
As she walked
On broken glass
Broken Glass
Beautiful
Scattered
Across the floor
Of that which she called home
He is on one side
If he is home
The piece of herself she sold
So that she could wake
Incomplete
While cupid laughs
In the corner
She has done so well
Selling herself
Piece
By
Piece
She never realized that was precious
Till it was gone
Glass broken
Pierced her heel
Beyond the grimace
Momentary
She would smile
While cupid laughs
In the corner
No more I love you's
While his cherubic hands
Grasped the bowstring
And let the arrow fly
Where it would
Meanwhile
She
Would bind her feet
And grin
Though
The grimace
As she walked
On broken glass
Wednesday, February 7, 2018
Which way is down
When You're Falling | Playing For Change | Sweden
It wasn't supposed to be this. I had clearly typed in youtube The great escape the wire. It was going to be a poem of defiance. Of importance of the one. The one she was unable to destroy.
Yet this song came up. What was I to do?
I know her secrets. I could tell them.
I know my secrets. I could tell them.
Should I?
Yet...
Who wants to hear tales of defeat. That the world will strip...
Slowly...
Surely...
All that you thought.
Replace... if you let it...
Strip... if you let it....
All of your dreams.
Breaking to your knees....
Till the visionary...
Continues to lie...
Only to himself. Keep the dream alive.To turn towards the strike... the fist. Upon the contact stark refuse to budge. Defiant. Refuse to give the pleasure. Refuse to relent to the victory of the other. Your muscles tension. Building energy. Ready to defend. To counter...
Yet...
Rather...
To smile. "Is that all you got?" through bloody lips pass. Strike fear into the persecutor. You know...
Their games so charlatan.
So amateur.
So played by fear...
You laugh.
You know.
The gods delight in you.
They are falling.. in this world... ever so fallen.
Their victory is obliterated...
By the simple defiance...
of refusal...
To be beaten.
You have won
Nothing
Through your beatings
You have shown nothing
Save
You are the ultimate looser
Enjoy
My sweet
Your feeble strikes
May they help you sleep
Slumber
In your world
I can tell which way is down
Salud
It wasn't supposed to be this. I had clearly typed in youtube The great escape the wire. It was going to be a poem of defiance. Of importance of the one. The one she was unable to destroy.
Yet this song came up. What was I to do?
I know her secrets. I could tell them.
I know my secrets. I could tell them.
Should I?
Yet...
Who wants to hear tales of defeat. That the world will strip...
Slowly...
Surely...
All that you thought.
Replace... if you let it...
Strip... if you let it....
All of your dreams.
Breaking to your knees....
Till the visionary...
Continues to lie...
Only to himself. Keep the dream alive.To turn towards the strike... the fist. Upon the contact stark refuse to budge. Defiant. Refuse to give the pleasure. Refuse to relent to the victory of the other. Your muscles tension. Building energy. Ready to defend. To counter...
Yet...
Rather...
To smile. "Is that all you got?" through bloody lips pass. Strike fear into the persecutor. You know...
Their games so charlatan.
So amateur.
So played by fear...
You laugh.
You know.
The gods delight in you.
They are falling.. in this world... ever so fallen.
Their victory is obliterated...
By the simple defiance...
of refusal...
To be beaten.
You have won
Nothing
Through your beatings
You have shown nothing
Save
You are the ultimate looser
Enjoy
My sweet
Your feeble strikes
May they help you sleep
Slumber
In your world
I can tell which way is down
Salud
Sunday, February 4, 2018
Euphony rising
Fatboy Slim - Praise You - Christopher Walken
Does she remember?
The phone call
Where he
Asked she
Apparently only moments before
A David
Slaughtering Giants
Could reach
Who knew Christopher Walken could dance?
So he captured the she
For
The moment elusive
Before the other
Could sweep in
With talons so sharp
The world would have time
To rip her away
To conversations hollow
Covering the time of the day
The weather
Everthing
But
That
Which was real
Who knew Christoper Walken could dance?
Do I have to remind
Of her pass
of passions
Ever so sharp
Ever so
Heated
Moments in the cloister
Where none could see
The euphony rising
From the touch
Crossing fabric
Silken
As he touched her heat
Silken
Ready for
A trace
A dive
To the heat which was alive
Furious pink
Blood rushed
To the point
Of contact possible
Of heat possible
All the while
Who knew Christopher Walken could dance?
He shall forget
Her rise
The plunge
Of him
Into
Her
The heat
The build
In her loving friction flow
The piercing
Push
Right on cue
Brilliant actors
Captured in a passion play
Watching you might even believe
It was real
For a moment
Frozen
Who knew Christopher Walken could dance?
Let the celebration begin
Does she remember?
The phone call
Where he
Asked she
Apparently only moments before
A David
Slaughtering Giants
Could reach
Who knew Christopher Walken could dance?
So he captured the she
For
The moment elusive
Before the other
Could sweep in
With talons so sharp
The world would have time
To rip her away
To conversations hollow
Covering the time of the day
The weather
Everthing
But
That
Which was real
Who knew Christoper Walken could dance?
Do I have to remind
Of her pass
of passions
Ever so sharp
Ever so
Heated
Moments in the cloister
Where none could see
The euphony rising
From the touch
Crossing fabric
Silken
As he touched her heat
Silken
Ready for
A trace
A dive
To the heat which was alive
Furious pink
Blood rushed
To the point
Of contact possible
Of heat possible
All the while
Who knew Christopher Walken could dance?
He shall forget
Her rise
The plunge
Of him
Into
Her
The heat
The build
In her loving friction flow
The piercing
Push
Right on cue
Brilliant actors
Captured in a passion play
Watching you might even believe
It was real
For a moment
Frozen
Who knew Christopher Walken could dance?
Let the celebration begin
Ever so
Haddaway - What Is Love (remix)
She was accomplished
She could have been a manager
At Dillard's
You go girl!
For someone whose escape
Led to a Tech
Ever so precious
New friends
Melded
To Old
An escape
Ever so precious
To be reborn
Ever so
Ever so
Body used
While mind
melted
You go girl
All you ever had
Was to sell a promise
Reality?
Does she think
He forgot
The time
The drive
To reach
That which was beyond capture
The touch
In the night
The fury
In the night
The consumation
In the night
The one melding to one
In the night
With movements of
Raptrue
Capture
Melding
Each
To
Each
Her Ecstasy
On her face
In her body
Frozen
Despite the heat
For a moment
Never worry
He believed
In the moment
For a moment
Like so many
Others
So it goes
Yet she knew
As long as the promise held
So fast
So furious
Driving through the night
With no headlights
Obstacles
Avoided
You go girl
Nothing will touch you
Or your promises
Hollow
As you drive
Through the night
Clandestine coup
Against the world
So real
So desperate
For promises
Hollow
That you
So freely give
My accomplished
One
Whose soul
is so hollow
Ever so
She was accomplished
She could have been a manager
At Dillard's
You go girl!
For someone whose escape
Led to a Tech
Ever so precious
New friends
Melded
To Old
An escape
Ever so precious
To be reborn
Ever so
Ever so
Body used
While mind
melted
You go girl
All you ever had
Was to sell a promise
Reality?
Does she think
He forgot
The time
The drive
To reach
That which was beyond capture
The touch
In the night
The fury
In the night
The consumation
In the night
The one melding to one
In the night
With movements of
Raptrue
Capture
Melding
Each
To
Each
Her Ecstasy
On her face
In her body
Frozen
Despite the heat
For a moment
Never worry
He believed
In the moment
For a moment
Like so many
Others
So it goes
Yet she knew
As long as the promise held
So fast
So furious
Driving through the night
With no headlights
Obstacles
Avoided
You go girl
Nothing will touch you
Or your promises
Hollow
As you drive
Through the night
Clandestine coup
Against the world
So real
So desperate
For promises
Hollow
That you
So freely give
My accomplished
One
Whose soul
is so hollow
Ever so
Wednesday, January 31, 2018
The turn
2Cellos - Where the streets have no name
The sun shone bright
Covering the earth
In a warmth
That never felt so cold
Life erupting as a world prepared to enter spring
Fell deaf on his ears
And on hers
Soon would mark the time for departure
The dance to keep alive
What could have been
Rose fierce
She desperately wanted him to stay
He
Knew he had to leave
Though
He desperately wanted to stay
Ruby red lip
Started to quiver
She had already pledged her loyalty
A promise
She didn't have to speak
So desperately fearing
The inevitable
He knew
In rumbling through
As she reached for a scrap of paper
A quick tear
Her eyes could not leave his
Begging for a way
An e-mail
A phone number
Anything
To contact
His heart broke
He couldn't not give
She asked "Why?"
He said, "Because I so desperately want."
"I so desperately want to give it to you."
"But I can't."
He hoped she would understand
Yet her eyes
So filled with a warmth
So filled with a promise
So filled...
A shelter where he
Could rest
Be young again
Be bold again
Be...
Again
Clouds began to billow
With the mist of tears
Welling
He hoped she knew
Or would discover
Why
In her continued travels
His heart broke
As the turn began
Leading to shattering steps
Piercing with every fall
The sun shone bright
Covering the earth
In a warmth
That never felt so cold
Life erupting as a world prepared to enter spring
Fell deaf on his ears
And on hers
Soon would mark the time for departure
The dance to keep alive
What could have been
Rose fierce
She desperately wanted him to stay
He
Knew he had to leave
Though
He desperately wanted to stay
Ruby red lip
Started to quiver
She had already pledged her loyalty
A promise
She didn't have to speak
So desperately fearing
The inevitable
He knew
In rumbling through
As she reached for a scrap of paper
A quick tear
Her eyes could not leave his
Begging for a way
An e-mail
A phone number
Anything
To contact
His heart broke
He couldn't not give
She asked "Why?"
He said, "Because I so desperately want."
"I so desperately want to give it to you."
"But I can't."
He hoped she would understand
Yet her eyes
So filled with a warmth
So filled with a promise
So filled...
A shelter where he
Could rest
Be young again
Be bold again
Be...
Again
Clouds began to billow
With the mist of tears
Welling
He hoped she knew
Or would discover
Why
In her continued travels
His heart broke
As the turn began
Leading to shattering steps
Piercing with every fall
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