She knelt weeping for the loss
Lustful for the gain of
Virginal ravishment, She knew not
The tenderness of purity
Soiled by those sent to protect, She wept
Forsaking the ideology of true loves kiss
Noticing the flaws
Groping for the simplicity to feel
Thrusting she moaned
Calculating she arched coldly
Her gaze never wavered
Wondering
Monday, May 23, 2011
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Ciao You Palpitating Nuisance
Flutter.
Skip.
Murmur.
Reaching not to soothe but to yank.
Rest be still.
Tired of your musings and trivial delights.
It is maddening what pleasure you take in his brow, smile, and fingertips.
Be still. Or I shall squash you.
You laugh at my utterances of forbearance.
Like jello I knead you and like playdoh you squeeze betwixt my limbs.
Smatterings now Skipping now Muttering.
Quiet, I wish not to hear your beatings o'Hollow drum.
Peaceful endings and not a racing stream of thoughts.
Anxiety, is not mistress here. Independent of the thumping.
I declare I will tear you out and offer you to the sun.
Wither away and let me be.
Memory knows best. My mind must win.
But you sneak upon me.
Struggling I must rise and battle.
My body not yours. Aren't you a limb. So be like a mouse.
Mutter those sweet nothings into the gates of despair.
I shall rule here.
I will rip you into pieces and lay as shards of glass.
Denying the roosting of eloquence of blood.
Ciao you palpitating nuisance.
Skip.
Murmur.
Reaching not to soothe but to yank.
Rest be still.
Tired of your musings and trivial delights.
It is maddening what pleasure you take in his brow, smile, and fingertips.
Be still. Or I shall squash you.
You laugh at my utterances of forbearance.
Like jello I knead you and like playdoh you squeeze betwixt my limbs.
Smatterings now Skipping now Muttering.
Quiet, I wish not to hear your beatings o'Hollow drum.
Peaceful endings and not a racing stream of thoughts.
Anxiety, is not mistress here. Independent of the thumping.
I declare I will tear you out and offer you to the sun.
Wither away and let me be.
Memory knows best. My mind must win.
But you sneak upon me.
Struggling I must rise and battle.
My body not yours. Aren't you a limb. So be like a mouse.
Mutter those sweet nothings into the gates of despair.
I shall rule here.
I will rip you into pieces and lay as shards of glass.
Denying the roosting of eloquence of blood.
Ciao you palpitating nuisance.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
She is like a Lion in Winter
Pacing in her gilded cage her thoughts travel towards her future liberation. Longing to roam the plains and taste the sun dried raisins of the East. Too long she has been comforted by what belongs to others; She is like a Lion in Winter.
Her menacing gaze scours the window as an eagle soars, jealously she furrows her brow and contemplates breaching her decorative jail; She is like a Lion in Winter.
Willful and rebellious against the domestic nature of her sex, she searches for the key to unlock her impending despair. Trapped by the contrived ideas of pleasure, painfully she invokes the wrath of the keeper; She is like a Lion in Winter.
Expectation chains her worse than the collar around her neck, she loosens the girdle along her loins hoping to extract the necessary penitence due to a mild suggestion of minding cubs or tempering her obstinate tongue; She is like a Lion in Winter.
Destined to rule but threatened in her attempts and is loaned about as a prized jewel; She is like a Lion in Winter.
A creature who scorns the knobbly fist of control. Derision swells her lips and she shakes her mane at the medium travesty of mediocre, forever looking toward succession; She is like a Lion in Winter.
Unable to bend too the unnecessary she aims to score among the secure and calm. Yet censure mocks and flits; creating the most harrowing of public utterances. Friendships quail in site of such adversity; She is like a Lion in Winter.
Tenuously straining at the reigns and achingly confident in her stature. Clawing at the stale air, resentful of the tame fare. Unsuited for the benign and illustrious quest for moderate beginnings; She is like a Lion in Winter.
Have a care for her temper for like a banshee it can be invoked. Growling her acceptance she careless rakes the ground in regard to her timeless need for adventure for; She is like a Lion in Winter.
Her menacing gaze scours the window as an eagle soars, jealously she furrows her brow and contemplates breaching her decorative jail; She is like a Lion in Winter.
Willful and rebellious against the domestic nature of her sex, she searches for the key to unlock her impending despair. Trapped by the contrived ideas of pleasure, painfully she invokes the wrath of the keeper; She is like a Lion in Winter.
Expectation chains her worse than the collar around her neck, she loosens the girdle along her loins hoping to extract the necessary penitence due to a mild suggestion of minding cubs or tempering her obstinate tongue; She is like a Lion in Winter.
Destined to rule but threatened in her attempts and is loaned about as a prized jewel; She is like a Lion in Winter.
A creature who scorns the knobbly fist of control. Derision swells her lips and she shakes her mane at the medium travesty of mediocre, forever looking toward succession; She is like a Lion in Winter.
Unable to bend too the unnecessary she aims to score among the secure and calm. Yet censure mocks and flits; creating the most harrowing of public utterances. Friendships quail in site of such adversity; She is like a Lion in Winter.
Tenuously straining at the reigns and achingly confident in her stature. Clawing at the stale air, resentful of the tame fare. Unsuited for the benign and illustrious quest for moderate beginnings; She is like a Lion in Winter.
Have a care for her temper for like a banshee it can be invoked. Growling her acceptance she careless rakes the ground in regard to her timeless need for adventure for; She is like a Lion in Winter.
Monday, July 26, 2010
A Girl Wants
Exhilarating emotions of a roller coaster gripping the inner folds of her inner being.
Whip lashed as she uncontrollably clenches. Gasps. Clenches. Gags.
A scarlet of a whisper escapes her tenuously parted lips.
Her tongue trembling travels to catch the excess savoring each morsel.
Stretching her joints defacing the bruising of the previous actions.
Aching with the query of release. Satisfaction.
Thoroughly scanning her body, searching for the tender moment of completion.
A sigh ruffled the thinly laced silence.
Unfurling from the safe harbor, wiggling to caress the ease.
Ooh.
A sea of delight as she purrs.
Chocolat.
Whip lashed as she uncontrollably clenches. Gasps. Clenches. Gags.
A scarlet of a whisper escapes her tenuously parted lips.
Her tongue trembling travels to catch the excess savoring each morsel.
Stretching her joints defacing the bruising of the previous actions.
Aching with the query of release. Satisfaction.
Thoroughly scanning her body, searching for the tender moment of completion.
A sigh ruffled the thinly laced silence.
Unfurling from the safe harbor, wiggling to caress the ease.
Ooh.
A sea of delight as she purrs.
Chocolat.
Monday, July 5, 2010
the Lady pukes her Heart
In retrospect, the Lady failed herself. Letting her dreamy idealism conflict with the reality of sorrow.
Charmed she was to fall for his enigmatic nature. Purposefully ignorant that he wasn't Angel or Edward.
He isn't Mr. Darcy.
Yet, still the Lady fought and wished earnestly to give the benefit of doubt so consumed with knowing they weren't ill-fated.
But soul mates.
Perhaps the peaceful countenance she felt was the haphazard haze of consistent bruising of regret, adoration, agony, relief.
Lust or Love. Or was it a meeting on the metaphysical to transcend into the bedding of the physical?
He knows not who the Lady was. What they do. Who view whats. She knows him not.
Delighting in the clouded mystery.
The Lady was so eager to give her heart and wait for the wind to return.
Still awashed in the short sighted memories that are benign based upon the severity of the circumstances.
Now slightly crushed and her human nature is ruined.
Merely a phantom of the former being.
The Lady's awakening still slumbers.
Charmed she was to fall for his enigmatic nature. Purposefully ignorant that he wasn't Angel or Edward.
He isn't Mr. Darcy.
Yet, still the Lady fought and wished earnestly to give the benefit of doubt so consumed with knowing they weren't ill-fated.
But soul mates.
Perhaps the peaceful countenance she felt was the haphazard haze of consistent bruising of regret, adoration, agony, relief.
Lust or Love. Or was it a meeting on the metaphysical to transcend into the bedding of the physical?
He knows not who the Lady was. What they do. Who view whats. She knows him not.
Delighting in the clouded mystery.
The Lady was so eager to give her heart and wait for the wind to return.
Still awashed in the short sighted memories that are benign based upon the severity of the circumstances.
Now slightly crushed and her human nature is ruined.
Merely a phantom of the former being.
The Lady's awakening still slumbers.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Under the Radar
He has a beauty that flies under the radar.
Mahogany skin thats almost to dark and never light enough.
Ebony eyes that grasp the betrayal.
He's a calm force that barges in the mundane and demands change.
The timbre in his voice fills with scorn for the emptiness.
His beauty flies under the radar.
He falls constantly yet his muscles bulge from the pressure of walking the line.
He rarely cries.
His smile is fleeting.
He absorbs the world for all its worth and reaches for its soul.
He chuckles. He smirks. He laughs boisteriously.
His beauty flies under the radar.
Always for the people.
Believing in a certain justice.
He isnt a god.
A man. Only a man.
Lithe as a tiger.
His strength lies within his strength.
Flawlessly he projects his flaws.
He isnt God.
He loves.
He cunningly raises his brow and wipes the sweat of trust.
His beauty flies under the radar.
Mahogany skin thats almost to dark and never light enough.
Ebony eyes that grasp the betrayal.
He's a calm force that barges in the mundane and demands change.
The timbre in his voice fills with scorn for the emptiness.
His beauty flies under the radar.
He falls constantly yet his muscles bulge from the pressure of walking the line.
He rarely cries.
His smile is fleeting.
He absorbs the world for all its worth and reaches for its soul.
He chuckles. He smirks. He laughs boisteriously.
His beauty flies under the radar.
Always for the people.
Believing in a certain justice.
He isnt a god.
A man. Only a man.
Lithe as a tiger.
His strength lies within his strength.
Flawlessly he projects his flaws.
He isnt God.
He loves.
He cunningly raises his brow and wipes the sweat of trust.
His beauty flies under the radar.
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