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Before MeWhat's more beautiful?
The over radiant glow of your
skin or your dressed down soul?
The way I pant and sweat in desire,
the way you ignite my body with erotic fire?
Am I lost in your eyes again or are we
going together in sin to that place
I love? Did you know you were more
than eternity, more than enough to
I can't bear such an explosive entity
before me. Yet here you are.
Terror on TopThere is nothing I want more, nothing I desire more strongly than to feel you below me, asking me, begging me, to continue. Your need is stronger than your desire, and I can feel every ounce of that need enveloping me, swallowing my ability to control, to stop my shaking senses. I inhale, searching for your fear, but chocking on my own. Are you ready to be told, to be sold into slavery of my heart? I don't know where my hands go, except feeling them around your neck, fingers slipping into their nooks with force. My hands are home. I don't know whose really in control, but I feel you slipping away, I continue to ride the waves, each thrust causing my anger to rise, I hear you cry out, I want you to scream for me to stop, only to be drown by my fingers, stinging your face. I taste your sweat, I place dirty wagers on whose going to cum first, inside my head of course. I don't want you to know. I just want to hear you say please. Fuck, I am so terrified.
There Was This Girl...... and she was alone, in the quiet of the womb. She waited anxiously for the great happening to pass so she could finally see love. It burned inside her. There was this girl that thought so frequently of love that she convinced herself that that was actually what she had been created from. Love.
There was this girl that made it through the great happening, saw love for the first time. So she thought. As suddenly as it appeared, it had withdrawn from her. There was this girl that wondered why the great happening had to be so painful. Where did love go?!? She felt it withdrawing from her, leaving her trembling, naked, screaming. There was this girl that saw lights and faces and heard sounds and felt cold, wet, felt shivers for the first time. She could smell the heat of the moment, the sweat pouring from her body and from the Ones body as well. But through it all, she could not feel it, she could not find love. There was this girl that had been born into the absence of love.
There was t
IntensityThe darkness caresses me, ebony rainbows silently flowing.
Your touch, like the brush of Butterfly wings on unseen things,
Ignites something darkly inside me and I wait. I attempt to
Call our your name, to ask to be saved, to give into grace.
But the world around me collapses and fades, and all this
From the mere embrace of your finger tips.
I inhale one last time and right before I start to die,
you return to me with your fire and ice, once,
then twice, you revive me. You engulf my body and we
fall away to the sea, just the stars and the trees and all
of eternity escaping from your hands. I attempt to be stable
but sinking sands are over come, my heart and my breath
are on the run, can not be caught, because I am being taught what
it means to find euphoria.
I am reaching hysteria and then when it seems I will find defeat,
our eyes meet and you smile. Your skin brings forth the softness
of moss in the moonlight, the power Of a single candle in the sunl
Hiking BootsI thought of you today, while walking, in moments of sunshine admits
All this grey. I thought of ways I could say what's been keeping
Me up at night. The things I fear, the things I like. The things
I can't keep in sight for very long. Because without a notice or
A farewell song, they are gone from me.
In a moment of solidarity, I took a path divided in three.
I just wanted to wander, I wanted to see. I wanted to be
Missed for one fleeting moment. I wanted you , I wanted
Something. I wanted the stars to die and for you and I
And everything I loved to be gathered into one place.
I imagined all of eternity's beauty in a single space
And he was standing right in front of my eyes. I neither
Took for granted nor seemed surprised. I simply smiled.
I kept walking, but not for very long. Because in this moment, in
the sunshine and the farewell song, I realized with a start, right where I belong.
Can We?Can you sit a while with me? There is something I need to tell you.
I have been trying for 24 years to get through to the other side,
To finally have a release and find peace in solidarity. To realize my purpose
And find clarity. But I think I have been bidding my time until now.
With my eyes adverted towards to ground I stand before you naked and
Vulnerable, waiting for you to turn the table. Waiting for you to realize you
Are unable to see me. But I hold my breath, and then you speak.
You ask me to whisper to you my dreams. You ask me to believe in these things,
to be unafraid for a change. To write my poetry, to turn the page, to know for
certain that there will be another day. You beg me to listen to your heart beat, to
take a seat next to the lilies and lies. To take from misery the golden skies
with ample opportunity. You ask me to see. To no longer count to three
before I jump. To just be faithfully blind and love. To let the peace I have be enough.
To let go of my hu
Returned HopeBreath taking, stolen. You came into my life with
your golden skin, your blue eyed sin that glimpsed
into my very soul. Stole, yes taken, my grief in my
utterly forsaken hopelessness. You made me commit
to something I have been so afraid of, something
that I know I am not made of. Hope.
When I had lost my faith and I could not cope,
you were there with Vodka and a rope, a net,
a catching glove and a smile. Moments passed and
after a while I could breath again. I stopped thinking
of him, I even stopped hating. I think
I have simply been waiting for someone honest,
someone with more than an empty promise.
So as you lie there and we begin our trip,
I smile slightly and bite my lip and remember,
There will not be a dreary December because
you have returned my hope and peace. I wanted a release
and you granted me a sea in which to find myself.
Where as we may never be anything else,
You have my desire for a "friend".
You are him.
TomorrowTomorrow isn't such a long time when we have eternity before us,
I hear you whisper my name and it's like a chorus of angels...
maybe it's demons, but that voice has given me enough reason to hold on,
to stay strong, to finally belong to something bigger than myself.
There is a peace in and of itself when I remember your fingers tracing,
replacing my scars with purity again, removing my sins and allowing me
to heal from within, whereas I never thought it possible.
I never would have thought it believable that I could love without convictions,
without bartering, without fearing and simply tolerating. To love is impermeable,
but to be loved by that for which you would die, is not measurable in this
language or the next. It is a triumph, a passing of a test, a final exam
before our forever can begin. And alas! It has begun. I have
fought for so long to find it, and now I have won. I do not claim to deserve
it, but it is mine to claim and run with. And that is what I will do.
SpeakThe times are as dependent and derived as
they were yesterday. I step down from the ladder
atop my stage and walk to the audience, to
kneel and repent, and set my eyes upon you.
I hand you the microphone and ask you not
to condone what I do here, just swallow your
fear and for once open your everlasting mouth.
Do not doubt what you feel, do not question what's
real, do not ask for a deal or a bargain. Just begin.
I take my seat, resting my aching defeat, and waiting,
desiring nothing more than to hear what you
are saying when you think I am not listening.
The sweat on your palms is glistening but I am still
looking, breathing, waiting, because it is your turn.
You try to learn the lay of the stage, you try to find
a way to make it play in your benefit. But I will sleep
here if I must until you finish it, the song that you have
been writing from the moment we met. The dogs have been
fed, the plants are wet, the anger is dead. It is just
you and me, at a quarter to three. I wi
Six Second Poem"We're all the same," she said. "Friend, tell me," she asked, "how are we different?"
For six seconds I paused, then I said:
Some of us ..
love more than we hate,
laugh more than we cry,
work harder than we play, but
live before we die.
Some of us don't.
And that, my friend, is how we are all different.
EasterRemember what you love,
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
I willI will love you
all the way to the place where ladybirds go to die,
to the lushest corners of the earth
that hold the secrets no man was meant to see
and we will find them, and know them together.
I will love you
all the way to the place where bubbles are made
at the bottom of a glass of cider
that blisters the glass with condensation
as we trade hats and laugh at the way the air smiles.
I will love you
all the way inside a branch where buds dream of Becoming,
where those one-day-flowers stir wooden hearts
into an uprising, into a blossoming life
and we will plant our ambitions there, in the blooming place.
I will love you
all the way to the square brackets that hold our boxes
because you are my best friends, and you will be
as we fold papery hands around paper-cut wrists and cry
and mourn eighty-odd years flown by too fast. Even then.
Even then, I will love you still.
Beyond LoveYou say 'beautiful' like a mistake -
like it slipped out unwarranted
from those dark parts of your mind
that you don't want me to go to,
you say it like that.
You caress like it's worship -
like if you pressed too hard
or took too much, you'd pay the price
and I love those urgent times when
you're willing to pay it.
You teach me love like I'll die without it -
like if you don't defrost me
and my frozen image of myself,
then I might stop breathing
and extinguish beneath my own icy damnation.
You kiss me like you have to -
like we're sharing an oxygen tank
in a toxic, broken-down universe
and you are trying not to breathe
to save me.
You kiss me like that.
You love me, like that -
how am I supposed to resist
a man who loves me beyond his own sense
and senses - beyond love ?
The Elephant ManHe had elephant hands; swollen and tendered
by old age and wiping away childrens' crying
so they were leathered and carefully painted
with a veneer of the dust made by old books,
but when he read to me the pages didn't shake
and his throat didn't contract about the words
like they were enemies to be spat out, bloodied.
Lungs didn't shiver and eyes didn't milk, then.
Now, I see love ephemeral. I see love half-dead
and carving its riverbed path, slowly eroding;
until it can rejoin oceans once known in heaven.
Now, I see him ephemeral. I see him half-living.
I see the fear of burdenship as the only thing
that makes his eyes flicker how Pernod used to.
I see a beautiful, crumpled drawing of my hero
as my grandfather slips, wearily, back to sleep.
Stereotypical SuicideSuicide is not a stereotype.
Not everyone has a family,
Nobody who lives for their care,
Nobody who wants them around,
Nobody who helps them through life,
Suicide is not a stereotype.
Not everyone has friends,
Not a person there for a simple hug,
Not a person existing for a reassuring look,
Not a person around to leave the words,
Suicide is not a stereotype.
Not everyone has a home,
No place to live and feel happy in so,
No place to live without leaving again,
No place to live to avoid the truth,
Suicide is not a stereotype.
Not everyone has a love,
Nothing there to hold them in warm arms,
Nothing there for a kiss to remember,
Nothing there to be a greatness in life,
Suicide is not a stereotype.
Not everyone has a someone,
"Don't do it - for your family
They mean nothing to me anymore,
"Don't do it - for your friends"
Friends? What friends? They don't exist,
"Don't do it - what about home
SafeI clasped my hand tight shut around my mothers.
I was a possessive oyster wrapped around pearly fingers
bitten white by the freshly whisked air.
We braced ourselves against the frozen metal frames
that, although unmovable by infantile hands,
were not a substantial enough barrier against a tempest.
The sea lashed out its limbs in a fury
and the sky’s face paled grey with worry
at what that grasping anger might achieve.
It rose to greet us, stood on mighty churning haunches
and collapsed heavily around our shoulders
with the dramatic violence of a dancer
crashing down upon a splintered Tibia.
It drenched us, filling mouths and ears with water.
My mother’s hand squeezed mine, comforting,
and as the sea drew back again,
preparing to strike out at us over and over
until its very exhaustion point – and over once more –
As it readied itself to slash our raincoats,
with the force of an evening spiralling into true darkness,
over and over –
for a moment the smell o
Beautifully BrokenA tidal wave crashes
Hard against the front of my skull,
Spewing fountains of hate into the air.
They are not beautiful.
A shot glass in one hand,
A pen in the other,
I drink alone in my room
As everything about me falls apart.
I can't heal mistakes.
The higher I am,
The prettier the fountains become,
But they really still look the same.
The world sees such strength,
A stoic warrior in a landscape of corruption,
But inside is a black, charred heart,
Shrouded in secrecy.
I am not beautiful,
Because hate is not beautiful.
hurt the mostI am trying to decide what hurts the most,
surpressing myself or dancing with the ghost
of my former happiness. Too many nights spent
wondering where this road is leading,
finding myself doing nothing but speeding down
the curves of my youth. The rear view mirror is clouded
with mistakes and regret, then I look forward and
see you step into the road, blocking my passion
and hindering my soul from its true path.
Still I'm wondering what hurts the most,
lying to my heart or following this road
with a numb sense of hope. I have tried to let
go of our many differences, demanding myself to
pretend that I can change you, but alas! I accept
that I can not. I have forgot to be true to myself
and let the belt of conformity fall to the ground.
I have forgotten how to be easy and real, how
to fully feel how I feel, how to discern scarps
from the rest of the meal of life.
I can not indulge this make believe game
that you and I are truly the same, when it has
been proven time and again that I am wh
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More