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Monday, December 28, 2009
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Category: Writing and Poetry
Despise them not
That in the old....
Fires still burn....
In skin that’s cold,....
Though cobwebs lodge....
About their eyes....
Lust still burns....
Though scorned, disprized;....
An old man looks....
On beauty’s form....
As though with age....
He’s not deformed....
As if he were....
Some youthful gallant....
Still possessed....
Of Ovid’s talent....
To disrobe a maiden, fears allayed, ....
Though his bald head
Is whisped with gray;....
He that barely lifts a leg,....
Will totter, kneel, and crassly beg, ....
For the favor of a maiden ....
Though his eyes and teeth are leaden;....
And in a woman,....
An old crone hag,....
Though her body parts have sagged, ....
Yet there remains that dulcet pain ....
To cup the parts of some young swain;....
Thus, while they’re wheeled into the dark ....
There still remains that vital spark, ....
That signifies that life prevails ....
As all their body systems fail.....
....
....
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Monday, December 28, 2009
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Category: Writing and Poetry
The devils that besiege your soul Have left their scars in weighted toll; But what has been their sum of good, You question still, as well you should; The purpose of men and women kind Is that their work leave good behind; A word, a gift to ease the lot Of those whose life was ill-begot; Your purpose is to ease the pain Of those who live and will remain After you have long departed; False-tested-soul and broken-hearted; So while there's life in you go love, And pardon this, my gentle shove.
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Monday, December 28, 2009
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Category: Writing and Poetry
I'd rather give a book of verse Wherein my love is oft' rehearsed;In hope her smile, so soft, refined, Persists forever in my lines;
To cut a rose that's in full bloom, To place it in some curtained room, Converts itself to signify That Beauty like our love will die.
That Beauty like our love with fade That Death shall sweep her in its shade, Pale feeble efforts in my lines To preserve a flower deserved divine
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Monday, December 28, 2009
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Category: Writing and Poetry
The old no wiser Than the young, They never learn Though Kingdom come; They stay the same They just don't budge They're still insane Although they're judged; There is no sudden Revelation, A new awareness, A hesitation, A sudden conscious Elevation, A reordering of All expectations; The young get old Remaining dumb, They live their lives And then they're done; They mark the passing Of the sun, No wiser than When they were young.
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Sunday, December 27, 2009
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Category: Writing and Poetry
I look into your Spanish eyes And see an Angel's grace; Sad eyes that never compromise, A hood of Flemish lace; How kind you are to sit my side As I gasp and fade away, I'm drained of all but my pride As darkness claims the day; Bring candles with their flames of gold To counteract the night, Their feeble warmth restrains the cold, Your shadow in my sight; Another hour of ebbing power To feel your hand in mine, I squeeze the petals of a flower, You bloom as I decline.
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Sunday, December 27, 2009
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Category: Writing and Poetry
A naked body of glistening bronze, A sweating tablet to write upon, He touches points of her breasts, Ochre yellow and swirls the crests; Her almond eyes, black, outlined, Her back is arched, her head inclined; He connects the stars of her hips, He slips his hand down to her lips, The focal lines of her loins Radiate and there are joined; On the steps of Qxzipattel The solemn Priest extends his rattle And calls the Gods to their feast, The bloody sun breaks in the East; The azure sky a mounting blue, A verdant green carpets the view, Eusthacia's lays upon the altar The sacrifice of Chaac's daughter.
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Sunday, December 27, 2009
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Category: Web, HTML, Tech
You buy me with Your bubbling praise, You lengthen all My silent days, You make me feel So less alone; I've become important To you well-known.
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Sunday, December 27, 2009
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Category: Writing and Poetry
Reject me not Because I'm fair My beauty native born, Nor for that rightful symmetry, The perfection of my form; Reject me not For the grace By which my body moves, That I don't stumble In the race So my caution proves; Reject me not For my charm That seduces as a wile, There is no practice In my words, No cunning in my guile; But take me as My sum of parts Which seeks not competition, If I am one to stir your heart, My aim is not sedition.
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Sunday, December 27, 2009
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Category: Writing and Poetry
She wounds me with An absent kiss, False fawning on a child, To remind of All that I miss, So clever in her guile.
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Saturday, December 26, 2009
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Category: Writing and Poetry
You kindly left the sun to rise, The birds to sing at dawn, Imagine my complete surprise After you had gone; The sun rose in the East To a chorusing of songs, The world was still a feast Though I was left forlorn.
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Saturday, December 26, 2009
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I find it awkward That you insist That I dangle By my wrists, Or by my heels Held upside down, My pleasured smile A sportive frown; Swinging on your gilded rings, Suspended in the air, I find the love that you bring A hit or miss affair; I'm like a smiling acrobat On a high trapeez, At least for sure I won't get fat Hanging by my knees.
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Saturday, December 26, 2009
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Category: Writing and Poetry
The moon rose over Moose Head Lake, The conifers did sway and shake, The towers of the tall tree tops Cast shadows on the silvered rocks; And I, alone, without your hand, Our love at end, a married man.
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Friday, December 25, 2009
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Category: Writing and Poetry
I think of this Obscure man, His life cut short Of mortal span, Who only had Three years to preach What he felt he had to teach; Shamed and flayed by barbed wire whips, Scorned, betrayed, and forced to strip; A man whose voice was scarcely heard, Who didn't write a single word; A criminal nailed to a cross; His garmets won in one dice toss; And yet we celebrate his birth, This man who briefly walked the earth, Obscure two thousand years ago, We praise his name, and quest to know.
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Friday, December 25, 2009
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Category: Writing and Poetry
I was ashes Merely embers; Exhausted by a futile fight With a dissembler; Growing old in coffee shops In cold December; At the cross bench sat A wild exotic flower A tempesta .. Of fierce pastel power; A white virgin Desperate to be deflowered, In a rainforest stood Her dingy tenement tower; Tired of reasons I abandonned reason; I forgot my soul And committed treason; Warmed myself by her burning fire Because I was freezing; Can you tame a hurricaine? In my arrogance I tried; Ate her mother's dry porkchops fried, In her madness I saw pride; Worst of all to myself I lied; There was no happy ending, Her wild soul found everything offending, A waste of time in a spree of useless spending; Life did not settled but ended up upending.
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Friday, December 25, 2009
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Category: Writing and Poetry
She listless lay upon my bed, I think her name was Ruth, A body that my lust had fed, Exploring her for truth; I asked her was she satisfied, Had she shared my pleasure, My opinion wasn't ratified, She demured upon the measure; The next day on the campus lawn I was introduced to Larry On me then did it quickly dawn, He was the one she'd marry; This handsome man she introduced Seemed so innocent, His fiancee I had seduced, She smiled in reticence.
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