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Would you be interested in the country life? My neighbors are a few horses. I am deeply involved in art, like to garden, kayak a little. I'm athletically inclined. I have a cat. She's challenged some,not very user friendly but I like her. 420 is all I'm into, don't drink or smoke anymore. Drag you around to art galleries and museums, the beach is cool. I have no debts, just a hippie in paradise. Looking for Eve, I guess.> I'm 68, thin side, 5'10, beard, white hair that used to be red. Love to cook. Love to make my woman laugh. Someone to share this wonderful thing called life. It would be cool if you were into literature or learning new things. I am an antiquarian and enjoy studying the past. Collect much of it as well. I'm an avid art collector. Sell as well.> I need not a crabby pants lady. I'm a hopeless romantic and divest myself from negative people. Glib rather than sarcastic. Have herpes 2 that's been dormant for a few years...life goes on. Live in a remodeled trailer and heat with wood mostly. Being honest as I can and expect the same type of a reply. The lady I seek might have tattoos and piercings, be heteroflexible.> Lived the alternative lifestyle with a wonderful sub lady for 7 years and miss it. Anal and oral yes indeed. I like vanilla in my milkshakes but not in my woman. >
"I would rather be ashes than dust; I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot; I would rather be in a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow than in a sleepy and permanent planet; the proper function of man is to live, not to exist; I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them; I shall USE my time." --- Jack London
"Why do people say 'grow some balls?' Balls are weak and vulnerable, if you want to toughen up, grow a vagina. Those things can take a pounding." something Betty White might say...
"It is from feelings of pain that we give birth to ourselves. We want to avoid the feelings of pain. And that is how we kill ourselves. If we do not, want to feel the pain, we mortify our feelings. We have no separate organs with which to experience feelings of pain and happiness. The person who wears armour as a protection against feelings of pain also does so against happiness or pleasant feelings. What is important is not a particular kind of feeling. It is the question of being able to perceive at all, to feel at all. To be alive."
("Love Letter of a Portuguese Nun" by Maria Alcoforado; quoted from "Sadomasochism" by Hans-Jurgen Dopp)
"By deficit eyes she is reduced to inferior states; by the evil eye of ignorance she is spellbound to banality and ugliness. But she is redeemed by the eyes of understanding. The hero who can take her as she is, without undue commotion but with the kindness and assurance she requires is potentially the king, the incarnate god, of her created world." - Hero with a thousand faces - Joseph Campbell
If a woman is not submissive to a man it is not because she lacks the ability to submit; rather he lacked the ability to create for her a place in her heart and mind to fall to her knees. ~ Anonymous
"If you limit your choices only to what seems possible or reasonable, you disconnect yourself from what you truly want, and all that is left is a compromise." ~Robert Fritz
Does not man, perhaps, love something besides well-being? Perhaps he is just as fond of suffering? Perhaps suffering is just as great a benefit to him as well-being? Man is sometimes extraordinarily, passionately in love with suffering..." --Fyodor Dostoyevsky
It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. Then the victory is yours. It cannot be taken from you, not by angels or by demons, heaven or hell.
Buddha
On an island..in an orchard..by a lake..in a log cabin...you...me..
....Like trying to nail jello to a tree... I would truly enjoy the regular company of a woman who likes to be ked.flogged..A woman with a positive attitude and sense of humor. Hope you are having a great week. Hope we'll have common interests and proclivities. Spend alot of time at the beach, looking for things for art work. My main interests concern bondage,sex toys,vibrators,love king,corsets,ass play. Nothing over the top..not into blood or anything to harm you. Like to cook,kayak.. keep in shape,workout, play guitar,live in alog cabin gently on the planet,into the environment. Alot of wildlife frequents my door. Live surrounded by an orchard,get alot of deer in the spring and summer.Smoke a little weed now and then..old hippie..longer hair,goatee. I rescue feral cats. I love all animals. Don't have a dog right now. Yes love stockings on a woman. Love to read,go to art galleries,yard sales,watch old movies by the fire.here's nothing quite like the experience when people are of one mind wanting the same thing but from different directions..the symbiosis is incredible..best wishes,Red
Somewhere we have never travelled. I need someone to sing to. Looking for a companion, lover, hippie,poet, artist,tree hugger,beachcomber. A literate woman with an edge. < style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"> somewhere i have never travelled
somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose
or if your wish be to close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility: whose texture compels me with the colour of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands >
The Invitation
< style="font-family: Arial; color: #000000;">It doesn't interest Me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest Me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest Me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals<
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She says, " I can't take no more " her tears are diamonds on the floor.... diamonds falling down... |
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"She’s got the whole dark forest living inside of her." - Tom Waits |
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.... success or failure, the truth of a life really has little to do with it's quality. The quality of life is in proportion, always, to the capacity for delight. The capacity for delight is the gift of paying attention - Julia Cameron |
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No woman will ever be satisified because no man will ever have a chocolate dick that squirts out money.... |
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So many freaky women.....so little time..... |
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In this world it seems easier for two to find a third than it is for one to find another.. |
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artist seeking artist..need my muse.. |
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But staying with her And my little bit of wisdom Broke down her desires Like a light through a prism Into yellows and blues And the tune that I could not have sung |
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One of my fantasies is having my sub sitting naked by the fire singing as I play for her.. |
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All I need is a sane relationship with a normal freak and yes..that makes total sense.. |
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If a woman is not submissive to a man it is not because she lacks the ability to submit; rather he lacked the ability to create for her a place in her heart and mind to fall to her knees. ~ Anonymous
They sicken of the calm, who knew the storm. Dorothy Parker
, 'Fair Weather,' |
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"It is in no ones power, but my own to create or destroy my own happiness". (Ayn Rand) |
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You know the old saying.." collar me is like doing the same thing day after day and expecting new results" no wait, that's insanity I'm thinking of..
Don't kid yourself into thinking you will find quality people on a free personals site.. |
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If there had been emailing in Dante's time, he would have written about the 8 circles of hell.. |
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“Life is not about problem resolution. [It requires] a more open-ended and courageous approach. It has to do with not knowing what will happen. It has nothing to do with wanting to get ground under your feet. It’s about keeping your heart and mind open to whatever arises, without hope or [expectation]. ...It's about doing our best to bring Joy while causing no harm. It's about deciding to Live to Love, as opposed to 'living' to be 'loved'". -Pema Chodron
http://youtu.be/SRzlD5i-nnI
Because he's great |
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My favorite swing dancer from the 40's. This was her debut. She was the winner of a swing contest and this is her first movie. She was 19 and made a career of it and became known as the Queen of Swing. Jean Veloz is her name.
http://youtu.be/1Mc2fTyTca4
I know what it is..she looks like Lois Lane in the 50's tv Superman..I always had the hots for her..yeah.. |
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But staying with her And my little bit of wisdom Broke down her desires Like a light through a prism Into yellows and blues And the tune that I could not have sung
Though the essence is gone I have no tears to cry for her And my only thoughts of her Are kind
-Michael Nesmith from "Joanne"
http://youtu.be/bj0rUVzXbFk
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Ninety five percent of the people here are players and the five percent of us that are not are quite amused by the parade and brought our lawn chairs.
http://youtu.be/x3xk3OXITZ4
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Hardest part to deal with when subless is not having anyone to focus all my attention on..all my energy..like an laser beam pointing nowhere... |
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Cybering and text is the twilight zone of real communication.. |
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Ladies..never let yourself be tied up by someone not as bright as yourself..
.....if he's as dumb as a box of rocks, you might get your heinie turned to gravel.... |
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Subs should be designed like litmus paper or mood rings |
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Due to the generous pictorial contributions of female members, I am now able to identify over 20 different flower species..
...and because of all the eye photos, I've now been qualified to take the entrance exams at a prominent school of optometry.. |
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Can I just order my sub off a menu..? hold the mayo.. |
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Artist space for you..writing...room for your horse..garden..apple trees.. |
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You haven't given up on your health..you are not bi-polar..you are ambulatory and have no major disabilities..you were born female...no heart issues..cause I'm gonna work you sometimes..and you want to be awake for it..because it does it for you. Consider an arrangement you living here for awhile..then we go live at your place..kinda like snowbirds..I am good with tools..hmmm..yeah all kinds.. |
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If after a few emails, we do not have a phone conversation, I will assume you lack certain character traits I need.I am too busy to deal with incessant emails that do not present a person any thing other than uni-dimensional..I.m not making a career of this hole..I want to make a career of your holes..now.. |
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These personal sites crack me up..Men use their youngest pic and ladies use their thinnest..of course..all in the spirit of mutual deception I love it.. It's like playing liar's poker getting to know someone...wading through the bullshit..ha.. Acts of deception always give me mixed signals..like being fucked in the ass, but not in a good way.. |
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0ne of the best ways to learn about a sub is to ask her to describe her day to you.. |
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Yes ladies..men do think this way....the longer the profile you have..the greater is the chance you are a head case to be avoided..hmmm Yep..some guys have short attention spans as well..If any basic stats are missing, we will avoid you..No pic, then give us a description in your own words.. |
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You'll get my attention if you prefer gyms over slim jims..tofu over tobacco...aerobics over alcohol..kayaks over Colonel Sanders.. |
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I was told I'd get a free prozac prescription if I signed up here..well.. |
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Woman's Prayer/Man's Prayer
WOMAN'S PRAYER/POEM
Before I lay me down to sleep,
I pray for a man, who's not a creep,
One who's handsome, smart and strong.
One who loves to listen long,
One who thinks before he speaks,
One who'll call, not wait for weeks.
I pray he's gainfully employed,
When I spend his cash, won't be annoyed.
Loves my family and my mother,
no wandering eyes for another.
Pulls out my chair and opens my door,
Massages my back and begs to do more.
Oh! Send me a man who'll make love to my mind,
Knows what to answer to "how big is my behind?"
I pray that this man will love me to no end,
And always be my very best friend.
MAN'S POEM
I pray for a hot looking, deaf-mute nymphomaniac with huge boobs, who owns a liquor store, a big screen TV, and a golf course. This doesn't rhyme and I don't give a crap. |
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Gonna start working on a new song.."I'll never beat you in a bad way baby...." |
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Black and blue with holes sore too... |
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I might be fortunate enough to discover a sexaholic who dresses like Sister Wendy and gives me interesting art lectures about Andy Worhol wearing her fuck me heels.. |
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I need not labor...I was born with two penises (pene) and yes Ripley knows all about me..... |
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Note to self: When taking bathroom mirror pics with my cell and wet hands..best to keep the toilet lid down... |
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Signs She's Getting Bored Having Sex with You
- When you request sex, she replies, "Wait 'til the Nyquil kicks in."
- Gets very upset when the ashtray falls off your ass.
- Actually answers when you ask, "Who's your daddy?"
- Only moans during commercial breaks.
- Keeps trying to set you up with her friends.
- Runs for vacant Senate seat in New York.
- You find yourself sitting backstage at the Jerry Springer show.
- You begin to suspect she is only "playing" dead.
- Her moans of delight discovered to actually be a WAV file.
- Instead of asking to leave her shirt on, she wants to leave her pants on too.
- Keeps asking, "Are you SURE you're not gay?"
- Holds up a picture of the Playboy centerfold to hurry you along.
- She yells out her own name.
- Bangs her head on the headboard BEFORE you begin.
ran across this..too funny.. |
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Wow..old subs are way too flaccid and young ones are way to flakey..what to do..I know..I'll stick with middle age flighty ones..solved yeah right..shooting myself in the ass would feel better.. |
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Subs..dontcha love them...the younger ones are in fear and the older ones are insane.. |
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Seems easier for two to find a third than it does for one to find another.. |
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I walked alone, breathing in the damp air of a gentle midwinter rainfall. A gray sky hangs heavy overhead, robbing me of robust colors, birds appear black against a monotonic background, barren trees, stark in this composition pen and ink sketches of gray tones and despair.
My moods, like the weather, have been unpredictable. My life colorless. I wait for the sunshine to warm to brighten my world. You are my sunshine, but today, I walk alone.
I just happen to like this poem and no, I'm not giving all my stuff away and looking for a rooftop.. |
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"I am a serious minded sub that won't take crap "...or..." I am a happy sub wanting to serve"..geez which to choose.. |
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The scariest women here are those who won't post ANY pics of anything.. |
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If you're flaccid and you know it..clap your hands..or try at least.. |
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From what I sense..see..read..feel..that most of us will not find love and this lifestyle in the same person. It would be nice..but the facts indicate otherwise..Someone to love you and another to satisfy you.. |
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Let's see..oh here's a new approach for a profile...No height no weight no pic and she is online 24/7..I'm gonna jump right on that..wow.. |
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I need a woman who chain smokes and drinks vodka straight,is online all day, eats nothing but junk food, has no friends or hobbies,is not creative in any way, someone who can't spell or hold a conversation longer than 5 minutes, wears cheap perfume, hates dresses. Someone who is looking for a Master to allow her to continue this for the remainder of her life. Someone fresh out of rehab would be ideal. Please have a few pics at least 15 years old. I prefer pics of floating body parts..eyes..lots of eye pics really do it for me.. |
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This is a free site..so what the hell did you expect to find here? |
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Here are some observations..the women my age are too old in the head..they want me to live real close by..as soon as they have a Dom..they are right back on their computer all day..like nothing changed...... |
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Ok..it's settled..The people on phetlife have it together alot more than here.. |
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The last one to leave collarme please turn out the lights..Do you think these guys look at phetlife and even have a clue. how to build a website? |
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Holy shit there is a lot of deception going on here.. I have alot more respect for someone who gives you current and honest info about themselves..their size..height..weight than I do with all these blind cryptic ads..yeah pics of eyes..hands...hardly any stats..pics that are your thinnest taken ten or twenty years ago...what the fuck..why would I consider you at all..? Would I not be the next victim of your deceptions? Not likely... |
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Why are so many people into bdsm recovering from something? |
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Wow..so many messed up women...so little time.. |
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Interesting how few pics show the face with any emotion.. |
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Getting her to focus was like nailing jello to a tree... |
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note to self..subs that show up with pms....a migraine and a hangover will be sent home... |
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Love the smile that breaks across her face when I tell her to bring me her handcuffs.. |
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We are here to identify and satisfy our deepest needs....let's not screw with each other.. |
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Your age is irrelevant..you need to be fit to be flogged.. |
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Subs are easy to find..loyal ones that can be friends are not.. |
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My work is only starting when I see your thighs moistening |
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Many times it will not be me having sex with you..it will be me using you sexually.. |
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Deception starts with a photograph older than a few years.. |
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When I see a blank list of interests on a profile..I can assume all you do is park your butt in front of your pc all the time.. |
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An older dom will train you better..longer..with more care.. |
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I don't have a job...but I have two penis. |
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Happy trails sweetie..I bet you don't write poems about him...and I bet he dosen't sing to you..... |
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A good submissive is worth the distance |
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My last sub was such a joy..and then such a dissapointment..seems she was home sick the day they taught about ethics at subbie school..oh well..life is for learning..and there are many predator submissives out there..careful where you step.. |
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note to self...giving an older sub a strenous session could give her a stroke..at the least i have had some pass out..be careful..give the smokers and drinkers more time to catch up.. |
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Flogging a woman is worse than having a meth addiction |
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If you don't have a great body..you better have class.. |
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It's a sign of stupidity to comment on the obvious. |
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The perfume that she wore was from some little store On the down side of town But it lingered on long after shed gone I remember it well And our fingers entwined like ribbons of light And we came through a doorway somewhere in the night Her long flowing hair came softly undone And it lay all around And she brushed it down as I stood by her side In the warmth of her love
And she showed me her treasures of paper and tin And then we played a game only she could win And she told me a riddle Ill never forget Then left with the answer Ive never found yet
How long, said she, can a moment like this Belong to someone Whats wrong, what is right, when to live or to die We must almost be born So if you should ask me what secrets I hide Im only your lover, dont make me decide
The perfume that she wore was from some little store On the down side of town But it lingered on long after shed gone I remember it well
And she showed me her treasures of paper and tin And then we played a game only she could win And our fingers entwined like ribbons of light And we came through a doorway somewhere in the night
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Of Many Worlds in This World |
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by Margaret Cavendish |
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Just like as in a nest of boxes round,
Degrees of sizes in each box are found:
So, in this world, may many others be
Thinner and less, and less still by degree:
Although they are not subject to our sense,
A world may be no bigger than two-pence.
Nature is curious, and such works may shape,
Which our dull senses easily escape:
For creatures, small as atoms, may there be,
If every one a creature’s figure bear.
If atoms four, a world can make, then see
What several worlds might in an ear-ring be:
For, millions of those atoms may be in
The head of one small, little, single pin.
And if thus small, then ladies may well wear
A world of worlds, as pendents in each ear. | |
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Laura Nyro Sweet Dream Fade lyrics |
Do you wanna make a sweet dream fade after all the tries we made? Never mind perfection, heroes or heroines. Tonight, let’s be lovers again. Tonight, lover, let’s be friends or make a sweet dream fade. Too many tears can dim the light, give or take, wrong or right. Innovation, make amends, tonight, let’s be lovers again. Tonight, let’s be lovers again. Tonight, lover, let’s be friends or make a sweet dream fade. Kids cry, money flies away. Dream on, baby, dream on. Where have all the years gone? Do you wanna make a sweet dream fade after all the tries we made? Never mind perfection, heroes or heroines. Tonight, let’s be lovers again. Tonight, oo, baby, lover, let’s be friends, lover, let’s be friends or make a sweet dream fade. Lover, let’s be friends, lover, let’s be friends or make a sweet dream fade. Lover, let’s be friends or make a sweet dream fade.
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Laura Nyro Triple Goddess Twilight lyrics |
I was a sweet baby in my mother’s arms, we were strolling through the park. Picnic, peace walk, progress. Just a baby in her arms, my politics are based on her charms. Triple Goddess Twilight, slow down. Feel the land, violet everywhere, I’ll meet you there. Mother, you died young and left me. Your twilight colors, rose, ah, burgundy, coral mist. What are the shades of loneliness? Triple Goddess Twilight, late sky violet and pink. All roads lead to Venus. I’ll meet you there in your dream of progress. My grandfather painted houses on a ladder in the sky. He was working class, urbane, streetwise. Said, “We can change the world, girl, love will inspire.” Told me this through whiskey and revolutionary fire. Triple Goddess Twilight, last trace of ruby and flame. First star leads to Venus. He left a war to talk in peace now. Sad life was for our dream, our dream of progress.
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"Some Journey"
If I had met you on some journey Where would we be now If we had met some eastbound train Through some black sleeping town
Would you have worn your silken robes All made of royal blue? Would I have dressed in smoke and fire For you to see through?
If we had met in a darkened room Where people do not stay But shadows touch and pass right through And never see the day
Would you have taken me upstairs And turned the lamplight low? Would I have shown my secret self And disappeared like the snow?
Oh, I could have played your little girl Or I could have played your wife I could have played your mistress Running danger down through you life
I could have played your lady fair All dressed in lace like the foam from the sea I could have been your woman of the road As long as you did not come back home to me
But as it is, we live in the city And everything stays in place Instead we meet on the open sidewalk And it's well I know your face
We talk and talk, we tell the truth There are no shadows here But when I look into your eyes I wonder what might have been here
Because if I had met you on some journey Where would we be now?
by Suzanne Vega
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When you look through clear water to the depth of the ocean, you see the botton.You do not realize how deep you are viewing. That is a heart, naked to the soul. When you touch the face you see in the shimmering reflecting back at you and feel her jaw bone with the back of your hand and smell the traces of her fragrance, your warm breath behind her ears and down,you have traced along the nape of her soul. When you have allowed your lips to dip into the wet of its ocean..you have kissed.. by LM |
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Fallen Angel by Russell Guldin
I want your sweat Staining my skin Marking my sin.
I want to be drenched In your -warm -soft -wet rain.
Make my heart Bruise against my bones.
Deafen me with your moans. Burn me in your embrace. Suffocate me deep inside you. Kill me, just a little,
Make me a fallen angel; Rend my back; Scar me; Tear out my wings. |
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MOTHER EARTH by Running Elk Woman
You think your superior civilized man, look what you've done to these precious lands.
We are not but a flea on our mother's back. How much more before she cracks.
Hear her call us one and all, for if not we all will fall.
You've taken advantage of these precious lands what is to come, is now at hand. |
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The Earth Can Be Healed- Liz Frost
what was given was taken and can be given again, but not just to one race of men, as on this continent exist many men mixed of many races, a blending of many faces, will join together in many places, with combined heart and soul, joined through the wheel, the earth can be healed and again become whole, look to your soul there you will see there you will know
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Blue Hearts
eat at the hearts of the dreamers and sing songs that confuse their minds until the dreamers know not which way is up and collapse in the run-down areas at the center of the town!
I found myself in the morning on my side (Someone had turned me over lest I choke!) lying in a gutter (Someone had covered me with newspaper lest I freeze!) Cursing the day I had met the Blue Hearts And listened to their songs And cursing those who could have warned me of the Blue Hearts but remained silent!
This is why I do this! This is why I sing these songs And say the things I say And do the things I do!
My hands may never heal again My feet may never dance But as long as I have a mouth to sound a warning And hands to write these words I will sing and sing and sing -unknown |
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Like a Plastic Medicine Man, I wobble my head to-and-fro on the dashboard where someone has placed me without my permission.
Like a Plastic Medicine Man, I find speaking has become difficult because the windshield heat melts my lips together.
Like a Plastic Medicine Man, I search for ways to shed this plastic skin to unread what manipulators teach their children, to unspeak what they have spoken, to help make whole what they have broken. by Gerard Donnelly-Smith |
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Author unkown
When first I slipped my hand under your shirt, I shivered like a thief, stealing your heat and softness. How my eager fingers burned down to their tips, while cradled in my palm your beating heart set fire to my blue veins. I smoldered like an ember, and your voice enflamed my skin to blazes with a sigh.
Later, my steaming hands undid your skirt; My tongue on your thigh traced that secret beat as if in flames. And who knows how I learned to handle fire that way? Or where the calm that so possessed me sprung from? What explains how phoenix-like, consumed, I could rejoice-- be born anew in you, and, burning, fly? |
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Give me back my broken night my mirrored room, my secret life it's lonely here, there's no one left to torture Give me absolute control over every living soul And lie beside me, baby, that's an order!
Leonard Cohen
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ALL IS FINISHED
I WANTED TO GIVE SOMETHING OF MY PAST TO MY GRANDSON. I TOLD HIM THAT I WOULD SING THE SACRED WOLF SONG OVER HIM. IN MY SONG, I APPLEALED TO THE WOLF TO COME AND PRESIDE OVER US, WHILE I WOULD PERFORM THE WOLF CEREMONY. SO THAT THE BONDAGE BETWEEN MY GRANDSON AND THE WOLF WOULD BE LIFE LONG.
I SANG.
IN MY VOICE WAS THE HOPE THAT CLINGS TO EVERY HEARTBEAT.
I SANG.
IN MY WORDS WERE THE POWERS I INHERITED FROM MY FOREFATHERS.
I SANG.
IN MY CUPPED HANDS LAY A SPRUCE SEED.. THE LINK TO CREATION.
I SANG.
IN MY EYES, SPARKLED LOVE.
AND THE SONG FLOATED ON THE SUN'S RAYS FROM TREE TO TREE. WHEN I HAD ENDED, IT WAS AS IF THE WHOLE WORLD LISTENED WITH US TO HEAR THE WOLF'S REPLY. WE WAITED A LONG TIME BUT NONE CAME. AGAIN I SANG, HUMBLY BUT AS INVITINGLY AS I COULD, UNTIL MY THROAT ACHED AND MY VOICE GAVE OUT.
ALL OF A SUDDEN I REALIZED WHY NO WOLVES HAD HEARD MY SACRED SONG. THERE WERE NONE LEFT!
MY HEART FILLED WITH TEARS. I COULD NO LONGER GIVE MY GRANDSON FAITH IN THE PAST, OUR PAST. I...WEPT IN SILENCE. ALL IS FINISHED!
CHIEF DAN GEORGE SALISH
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A Hidden Place
Each of us has a hidden place Somewhere deep within ourselves; A place where we go to get away, To think things through, To be alone, to be ourselves. This unique place, where we confront our deepest feelings, Becomes a storehouse of all our hopes, All our needs, all our dreams, And even our unspoken fears. It encompasses the essence of who we are and what we want to be. But now and then, whether by chance or design, Someone discovers a way into that place we thought was ours alone. And we allow that person to see, to feel and to share All the reason, all the uncertainty And all the emotion we've stored up there. That person adds new perspe ctive to our hidden realm, Then quietly settles down in his own corner of our special place, Where a bit of himself will stay forever. And we call that person a friend.
-Poem by Carol Elaine Faivre-Scott
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TEARS OF A NATION
I met a man of many colors And a tear was upon his cheek. "Old man" I ask, "why do you cry With such an agonizing weep?"
"Oh child" this man he says to me, "My heart is broken in so many ways That I believe this day to end Will find me out stretched and far within The encompassing earth of sin."
I sat down beside this man And asked him "do not cry. For what you think is so bad That life will pass you by?"
He looks at me with such sad eyes. And weeps ever more. He holds his hands out to me And alas, I do see The anguish of his heart.
For his hands were different colors One is red and the other white, A leg he unclothed for me Was as yellow as could be And his other leg as black as night.
"I am the father of the world. In case you do not know. And my children have grown apart And fight among themselves.
For when they do not get along My arms and legs and hands and feet Destroys the very life of me.
My hands of red and white Will not feed this face of night. And my legs of black and yellow, Will not stand beneath this body And support my heart and soul.
For they argue far too much, And now I have grown old.
So here I sit in this haven Of unwelcomeness. And when this day ends, A father I will not be. For my children of many nations Have forgotten how to accompany me.
Native American Contemporary Poetry
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To a Stranger by Walt Whitman (1819 - 1892)
Passing stranger! you do not know How longingly I look upon you, You must be he I was seeking, Or she I was seeking (It comes to me as a dream)
I have somewhere surely Lived a life of joy with you, All is recall'd as we flit by each other, Fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,
You grew up with me, Were a boy with me or a girl with me, I ate with you and slept with you, your body has become not yours only nor left my body mine only,
You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh as we pass, You take of my beard, breast, hands, in return,
I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you when I sit alone or wake at night, alone I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again I am to see to it that I do not lose you.
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A Dream Within a Dream
Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow- You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet, if Hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it, therefore, the less gone? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of golden sand- How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep- while I weep! O God! can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?
- by Edgar Allen Poe |
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Naked ~by Pablo Neruda
Naked, you are simple as a hand, smooth, earthy, small...transparent, round. You have moon lines and apple paths; Naked, you are slender as the wheat.
Naked, Cuban blue midnight is your color, Naked, I trace the stars and vines in your hair; Naked, you are spacious and yellow As a summer's wholeness in a golden church.
Naked, you are tiny as your fingernail; Subtle and curved in the rose-colored dawn And you withdraw to the underground world
As if down a long tunnel of clothing and of chores: your clear light dims, gets dressed, drops its leaves, And becomes a naked hand again.
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Untitled
Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950)
Love is not all: It is not meat nor drink Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain, Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink and rise and sink and rise and sink again. Love cannot fill the thickened lung with breath Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone; Yet many a man is making friends with death even as I speak, for lack of love alone. It well may be that in a difficult hour, pinned down by need and moaning for release or nagged by want past resolutions power, I might be driven to sell you love for peace, Or trade the memory of this night for food. It may well be. I do not think I would.
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An Erotic Story - written by Krissy
My room is perfect for the occasion, soft music, candles, and the sheets of the bed are pulled back. Wine glasses put aside we sit on the bed and you kiss me, lips full of love and desire. We fall back against the pillows as you pull my shirt over my head to reveal my nipples which are already rock hard. You kiss me again, this time down my neck and to my breasts, taking turns softly nibbling on each nipple. We sit up, you pulling me on to your lap as I strip off your shirt. I push you head back down to my breasts and pull you back down on top of me. You bite harder, I moan softly and reach towards the hardening bulge that I can feel against my leg. I caress it over your pants till I can wait no longer. I unbutton your pants and reveal your cock. I moan louder as your hands have begun to message my inner thigh. We roll over and I take off your pants completely. I take you into my mouth before your pants have even hit the floor. I am hungry for your juices. As I suck your throbbing cock with one hand I massage your sack and with the other the base of your cock because I can't possibly fit it all in my mouth. Soon my hunger is satisfied and you tell me that now it is my turn. Laying my on my back you remove my shorts to find that I have shaven for you and that pleases you. My pussy is dripping and you slowly lick my clit starting slowly at the outside and working your way in. You spread my legs as far as they will go and finger me fast and hard as you lick my clit. My moans of pleasure have become screams of "oh yes!" and "right there" my body shakes with a wave of orgasm and you stop and ask me if I am ready. I respond that I am more than ready and you slide on a condom and then slowly enter me. The faster we go the louder I get. We roll across the bed and I ride you until we both cum. After a few moments rest we start at it again this time you sit up and I ride your lap you wait until I am ready to cum and then stop and tell me to get on my knees and enter me from behind. Once we cum I fall asleep in your arms, we will wake up in a few hours and do it all again. |
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"The Queen & The Soldier"
The soldier came knocking upon the queen's door He said, "I am not fighting for you any more" The queen knew she'd seen his face someplace before And slowly she let him inside.
He said, "I've watched your palace up here on the hill And I've wondered who's the woman for whom we all kill But I am leaving tomorrow and you can do what you will Only first I am asking you why."
Down in the long narrow hall he was led Into her rooms with her tapestries red And she never once took the crown from her head She asked him there to sit down.
He said, "I see you now, and you are so very young But I've seen more battles lost than I have battles won And I've got this intuition, says it's all for your fun And now will you tell me why?"
The young queen, she fixed him with an arrogant eye She said, "You won't understand, and you may as well not try" But her face was a child's, and he thought she would cry But she closed herself up like a fan.
And she said, "I've swallowed a secret burning thread It cuts me inside, and often I've bled" He laid his hand then on top of her head And he bowed her down to the ground.
"Tell me how hungry are you? How weak you must feel As you are living here alone, and you are never revealed But I won't march again on your battlefield" And he took her to the window to see.
And the sun, it was gold, though the sky, it was gray And she wanted more than she ever could say But she knew how it frightened her, and she turned away And would not look at his face again.
And he said, "I want to live as an honest man To get all I deserve and to give all I can And to love a young woman who I don't understand Your highness, your ways are very strange."
But the crown, it had fallen, and she thought she would break And she stood there, ashamed of the way her heart ached She took him to the doorstep and she asked him to wait She would only be a moment inside.
Out in the distance her order was heard And the soldier was killed, still waiting for her word And while the queen went on strangeling in the solitude she preferred The battle continued on
Suzanne Vega |
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OCEAN GYPSY
Tried to take it all away And learn her freedom just inside a day And find her soul To find their fears allayed
Tried to make her love their own They took her love they left her there They gave her nothing back That she would want to own
Gold and silver rings and stones Dances slowly of the moon No-one else can know She stands alone
Sleeping dreams will reach for her She cannot say the words they need She knows she's alone And she is free
Chorus:
Ocean gypsy of the moon The sun has made a thousand nights For you to hold Ocean gypsy where are you The shadows followed by the stars Have turned to gold, turned to gold
Then she met a hollow soul Filled him with her light And was consoled she was the moon And he, the sun was gold
Eyes were blinded with his light The sun she gave Reflected back the night The moon was waning Almost out of sight
Softly ocean gypsy calls Silence holds the stars awhile They smile sadly For her where she falls
Just the time before the dawn The sea is hushed The ocean calls her Day has taken her and now she's gone
Repeat chorus
No-one noticed when she died Ocean gypsy shackled to the tide The ebbing waves were turning Spreading wide
Something gone within her eyes Her fingers lifeless stroke the sand Her battered soul was lost She was abandoned
Silken threads like wings still shine Winds take pleasure still make patterns In her lovely hair So dark and fine
Stands on high beneath the seas Cries no more Her tears have dried Oceans weep for her the ocean sighs |
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Lady Midnight
I came by myself to a very crowded place; I was looking for someone who had lines in her face. I found her there but she was past all concern; I asked her to hold me, I said, "Lady, unfold me," but she scorned me and she told me I was dead and I could never return.
Well, I argued all night like so many have before, saying, "Whatever you give me, I seem to need so much more." Then she pointed at me where I kneeled on her floor, she said, "Don't try to use me or slyly refuse me, just win me or lose me, it is this that the darkness is for."
I cried, "Oh, Lady Midnight, I fear that you grow old, the stars eat your body and the wind makes you cold." "If we cry now," she said, "it will just be ignored." So I walked through the morning, sweet early morning, I could hear my lady calling, "You've won me, you've won me, my lord, you've won me, you've won me, my lord, yes, you've won me, you've won me, my lord, ah, you've won me, you've won me, my lord, ah, you've won me, you've won me, my lord."
Leonard Cohen
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Have we lost our way?... We must return again to the call of nature ... This call is muted with the hurts around us ... Destruction of the good and bad ... We must return, not as aliens, but as Keepers of all things that are a part of us ... Some are forever gone ... Others are crying out in despair ... Just as our Ancestors kept the faith with all things Great and Small ... So must we be the guardians of the Sun, the Moon and the Stars ... It is because of them, and our respect for their powers that we must raise our voices to be heard ... We are not just the Red Man, we are THE PEOPLE ... Our fathers before us worshipped all things of nature ... This is good, for Nature is the Heart of all things ... All of us spring from Mother Earth and must return to her bosom ... If we poison Her, so will our future be poisoned ... She will rebel against the hurts and we will be the losers ... We must return ... Native American |
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CIRCLE OF TIME
Like a spider they await For the trusting and unsuspecting prey. To light upon their web To twist and deceive you Until you believe what has been said To be truth, love and kindness.
Words of evil and trustless faith Has warped this world of it's gentleness And stripped the life from it. The very being of it's soul Has been buried beneath The cries of pain of centuries old
For they all watch and sit and wait To see how much further we shall go How much more destruction is left. Sadly, we are being waited on by eyes much wiser and knowing Than yours or mine Just to see what we will do In our Circle of Time. LneStarLdy
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.."And while I stood there I saw more than I can tell and I understood more than I saw; for I was seeing in a sacred manner the shapes of all things in the spirit, and the shape of all shapes as they must live together like one being. And I saw that the sacred hoop of my people was one of many hoops that made one circle, wide as daylight and as starlight, and in the center grew one mighty flowering tree to shelter the children of one mother and one father. And I saw that it was holy Black Elk |
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These Shoes of Mine
I have had many shoes in my lifetime, but there was a pair that I bought many years ago. I found them in a thrift shop and when I saw them, they seemed to call out to me. I went over to the counter where they were and tried them on. They seemed too small but in a strange way, they stretched to my feet. I bought them for a pittance and wore them home and wore them and wore them everywhere. They became part of me, so much that that I had to write a little memorial to them. These Shoes of Mine These shoes you say have been out to play, so long ago. When I was young and full of dreams and hopes, these shoes of mine danced away the night. They traveled around the world, to far off places. These shoes of mine, walked down the aisle of love and happiness, forty years ago. These shoes of mine stumbled many times in life. They walked through that lonely tunel of death when everything ends. They traveled back and forth for each child. But these shoes of mine continued on for other generations of life. But at last, these shoes of mine, are no longer needed. Nature has taken care of that. But I felt they deserved a fine burial. Written by Netju's Mom(Glonik) Native American Poetry |
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AND a woman spoke, saying, Tell us of Pain.
And he said:
Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
Even as the stone of the fruit must break,that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.
Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.
Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquillity:
For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen, And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears. |
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Give me your hand
Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.
Let others have the privacy of touching words and love of loss of love.
For me Give me your hand.
Maya Angelou
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Alone - John Popper (Blues Traveler) I said "I love you," She began to cry. She said she needed a friend, I said "I'll try." Soon we'd say nothing, Somehow I never wondered why, You see, she left me, She left me, I'm alone. I'd loved her always, She didn't know. I tried patience, Let a friendship grow. I tried to keep her, That's what made her go. You see, she left me, She left me, I'm alone. Beauty and the beast Was how it seemed to be. A love like hers Aint meant for guys like me. Some call me crazy, Some politely call me free, but either way You see, she left me, She left me, I'm alone. I'm trying to forget you but it just won't work, I think I'm losing my mind, I think I'm going berzerk, I love you with a passion that you just don't know, And I kinda wish right now that I was telling you so, I could rant, or rave, or play some little game, But when I look into your eyes, it all seems the same, You weren't meant for me and that's a sad but true fact, Now I don't care how I look and don't care how I act, You set me free; I'm a man among men, But when I think of what I missed it starts all again, Now alone in the darkness of each new day, My heart is on its own. I wanna rip it from my chest and throw it away, Watch this bassman take me home. I guess some day, Love will soon be here, And maybe then, I'll see things more clear. I guess I got excited, Cause it felt so near, and You see, she left me, She left me, I'm alone. But I know I'd give my life, Just to hold her now, And who knows? I might see her around. Hopes can always go up. Tears can only come down. You see, she left me. She left me, I'm alone. |
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Time after Time - Cyndi Lauper Lying in my bed, I hear the clock ticks and think of you. Caught up in circles, confusion is nothing new. Flash back - warm night, almost left behind suitcase of memories. Time after - sometime you pictured me I'm walking too far ahead. You're callin' to me - I can't hear what you've said you said - "Go slow, I fall behind." The second hand unwinds. If you're lost you can look and you will find me, time after time. If you fall I will catch you. I'll be waiting. Time after time. I turn, my picture fades and darkness has turned to gray. Watching through windows you're wondering if I'm OK. Secrets stolen from deep inside. The drum beats out of time. If you're lost you can look and you will find me - time after time. If you fall I will catch you. I'll be waiting. Time after time. |
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Landslide - Fleetwood Mac I took my love and I took it down. Climbed a mountain and turned around. And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills'til the landslide brought it down. Oh, mirror in the sky -What is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changin' ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life? I don't know.....I don't know. Well I've been afraid of changin' because I've built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older, and I'm getting older too.... So, take my love...take it down. Climb a mountain and turn around. And if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills...well the landslide will bring it down. The landslide will bring it down |
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Love Sonnet XI
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh, your hands the color of a savage harvest, hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails, I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body, the sovereign nose of your arrogant face, I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight, hunting for you, for your hot heart, like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
by Pablo Neruda 1904-1973 |
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I Look Upon Her |
by Raven |
I look upon her face lying on my pillow Lit by the light of my bedroom window Wrapped within my gently arms Knowing she will come to no harm
I look upon her hair, soft and fair Unable to find the words to compare Answers she has given me in times of pain That love and hope will visit again
I look upon her lips, moist and red Giving me life when all was dead She restored my heart when it was lost Melting what was covered in frost
I look upon her breasts, firm and strong Knowing that love could not be wrong Slowly moving with every breath Always knowing she was not like the rest
I look upon her hips, round and smooth Gently touching not daring to move I fix the sheets with delicate care But a gentle kiss is all I dare
I look upon her face staring into mine Filling my body as if it were wine I close her eyes with gentle kisses For she has answered all my wishes. | |
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Film Strip
We’re not dating anymore That never stopped us before But on the back of the car? Yes In the driveway? Yes But someone might see us Exactly
She pursed her lips And looked down at his nightstand Two hundred
I don’t have that kind of money I know Then why? If you can’t pay… But this is art It’s sex It’s sex in an artistic medium VHS is an artistic medium?
Breaking up was becoming a matter For lawyers So many details Compromises & negotiations Some stranger than others
You can wear the top ok? I’ll still be naked You’ll be partially naked Let me wear the skirt too Fine but you only get fifty
If he couldn’t have her He’d have celluloid memories Play, pause, masturbate Rewind to the money shot She knew how to moan Like a starlet
Like this? Bent over under sparkling skies Yes, don’t move Pavement under her feet Ready for action? Camera rolling
He had learned so much from her She was the experienced traveler He the novice lover She was growing bored He had grown obsessive
Yes Make it good This is the last time he’d know her secrets A last time that would replay forever in his VCR On many lonely nights But she’d be gone
Yes, Harder, Yes A tear rolled down his face And landed on her back The intensity was purely psychological An expression of loss
Give it to me! His arms gripped around her She bucked back into him Her shrieks echoed into the night sky He shuddered with awe
Cut The scene ended too quickly It’s over? She asked surprised Yes He wept to himself It’s over We’re done
author unkown |
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When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie.
Offering me, as to a child, an attic, Gatherings of days too few. Baubles of stolen kisses. Trinkets of borrowed loves. Trunks of secret words,
I CRY.
Maya Angelou
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Izumi Shikibu
My black hair tangled As my own tangled thoughts, I lie here alone, Dreaming of one who has gone, Who stroked my hair till it shone.
When I think of you, Fireflies in the marsh rise Like the soul's jewels, Lost to eternal longing, Abandoning my body |
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Alone in her Beauty
Who is lovelier than she? Yet she lives alone in an empty valley. She tells me she came from a good family Which is humbled now into the dust.
...When trouble arose in the Kuan district, Her brothers and close kin were killed. What use were their high offices, Not even shielding their own lives? --
The world has but scorn for adversity; Hope goes out, like the light of a candle. Her husband, with a vagrant heart, Seeks a new face like a new piece of jade;
And when morning-glories furl at night And mandarin-ducks lie side by side, All he can see is the smile of the new love, While the old love weeps unheard.
The brook was pure in its mountain source, But away from the mountain its waters darken. ...Waiting for her maid to come from selling pearls For straw to cover the roof again,
She picks a few flowers, no longer for her hair, And lets pine-needles fall through her fingers, And, forgetting her thin silk sleeve and the cold, She leans in the sunset by a tall bamboo.
old chinese poem by Tu-Fu 712-7770 ad |
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it may not always be so; and i say it may not always be so;and i say
that if your lips,which i have loved,should touch
another's,and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart,as mine in time not far away;
if on another's face your sweet hair lay
in such a silence as i know,or such
great writhing words as,uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;
if this should be,i say if this should be-
you of my heart,send me a little word;
that i may go unto him,and take his hands,
saying,Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face,and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands.
e.e cummings
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i like my body when it is with your body. It is so quite a new thing. Muscles better and nerves more. i like your body. i like what it does, i like its hows. i like to feel the spine of your body and its bones, and the trembling -firm-smooth ness and which i will again and again and again kiss, i like kissing this and that of you, i like,, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big Love-crumbs, e.e.cummings
and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you quite so new
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Sonnet LXXXIII Pablo Neruda
It's good to feel you close in the night, Love,
invisible in your sleep, earnestly nocturnal,
while I untangle my confusions
like bewildered nets.
Absent, your heart sails through dreams,
but your body breathes, abandoned like this,
searching for me without seeing me, completing my sleep,
like a plant that propogates in the dark.
When you arise, alive, tomorrow, you'll be someone else:
but something is left from the lost frontiers of the night,
from that being and nothing where we find ourselves,
something that brings us close in the light of life,
as if the seal of the darkness
branded its secret creatures with a fire. |
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Sonnet LXXXIII Pablo Neruda
It's good to feel you close in the night, Love,
invisible in your sleep, earnestly nocturnal,
while I untangle my confusions
like bewildered nets.
Absent, your heart sails through dreams,
but your body breathes, abandoned like this,
searching for me without seeing me, completing my sleep,
like a plant that propogates in the dark.
When you arise, alive, tomorrow, you'll be someone else:
but something is left from the lost frontiers of the night,
from that being and nothing where we find ourselves,
something that brings us close in the light of life,
as if the seal of the darkness
branded its secret creatures with a fire. |
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Sonnet XLIV Pablo Neruda
You must know that I do not love and that I love you, because everything alive has its two sides; a word is one wing of silence, fire has its cold half.
I love you in order to begin to love you, to start infinity again and never to stop loving you: that's why I do not love you yet.
I love you, and I do not love you, as if I held keys in my hand: to a future of joy- a wretched, muddled fate-
My love has two lives, in order to love you: that's why I love you when I do not love you, and also why I love you when I do. |
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TONIGHT I CAN WRITE
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars, and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance." The night wind whirls in the sky and sings. I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. On nights like this, I held her in my arms. I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky. She loved me, sometimes I loved her. How could I not have loved her large, still eyes? I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her. To hear the immense night, more immense without her. And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass. What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her. The night is full of stars and she is not with me. That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away. My soul is lost without her. As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her. My heart searches for her and she is not with me. The same night that whitens the same trees. We, we who were, we are the same no longer. I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her. My voice searched the wind to touch her ear. Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once belonged to my kisses. Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes. I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her. Love is so short and oblivion so long. Because on nights like this I held her in my arms, my soul is lost without her. Although this may be the last pain she causes me, and this may be the last poem I write for her.
Pablo Neruda
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Sonnet XXV by Pablo Neruda
Before I loved you, Love, nothing was my own; I wavered through the streets, among objects: nothing mattered or had a name: the world was made of air, which waited.
I knew rooms full of ashes, tunnels where the moon lived, rough warehouses that growled Get lost, questions that insisted in the sand.
Everything was empty, dead, mute, fallen, abandoned, and decayed: inconceivably alien, it all
belonged to someone else-to no one: till your beauty and your poverty filled the autumn plentiful with gifts. |
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Roll Me Over & Make Me A Rose
This morning you amazed me in my sleeping you moved into my dream with fast hands Sure hands on my sleepy ass on my clit in my clit Engorging Under fast hands alarmed into instant arousal I Gasp sliding under covers You grapsing me I could be unsure of my turn-on before arising But riding your command I am carried away
You move faster than I can decide to trust you I hang on to you galloping me over waves pounding scarlet My brain is asleep and my clit is a rose riding your hand
Roll me over in the morning lover and make me a rose.
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MY Eyes
My eyes licked your body as you stood naked in the spotlight of my dreams visions so hauntingly real my arms reached out from the shadow of the moon to touch the warmth of your smile while your body heat blazoned my thoughts.
You came to me striding to an erotic cadence as I watched you on my knees mouth watering hungry for the taste of you while sultry eyes licked your body beckoning you to come down to me so I could feel your hungering breath touch my lips desirous tongues meeting to dance inside the conclaves of our oral caverns juices mixing... stirring our glorious agonizing passion annointed by your kiss I journeyed to retrieve the key to my passion's gate to trace the center of your universe while the hot winds of my orifice blew upon your terrain ...
I inhaled continuing on my quest downward igniting flames along the way you closing your eyes whimpering moans of delight as my tongue flickered like a serpent stalking its prey creating a brilliant light in your mind that guided you from the darkness of the world and its woes to trap you within the confines of my suckling surge until the waters of your sea rushed forth in rhythmic pulsations... as my eyes licked your body.
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It doesn't interest Me whatGoodbye
After a while you learn the subtle difference Between holding a hand and chaining a soul, And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning And loving someone doesn't mean security. And you begin to learn that maybe's aren't contracts And lets see's aren't promises And you begin to accept your defeats With your head up and your eyes open, With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child, And learn to build all your roads On today because tomorrow's ground Is too uncertain for plans, and future's have A way of falling down in mid-flight. After awhile you learn that even sunshine Burns if you get too much. So you plant your own garden and decorate Your own soul, instead of waiting For someone to bring you flowers. And you learn that you really can endure That you really are strong And you really do have worth. And you learn and learn. With every goodbye you learn. you do for a living. I wanIIt doesn't interest Me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest Me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest Me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of futher pain!
I want to know if you can sit with pain, Mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, Mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstacy fill you to the tips of your fingers & toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest Me if the story you're telling Me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from God's presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours or Mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes"!
It doesn't interest Me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief & dispair, weary & bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done.
It doesn't interest Me who you are, how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with Me/us and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest Me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
I want to know, Can you risk your heart to dance in the fire of love? To be washed by the tears? To share mine/his/our life?t doesn't interest Me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest Me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest Me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of futher pain!
I want to know if you can sit with pain, Mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, Mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstacy fill you to the tips of your fingers & toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest Me if the story you're telling Me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from God's presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours or Mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes"!
It doesn't interest Me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief & dispair, weary & bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done.
It doesn't interest Me who you are, how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with Me/us and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest Me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
I want to know, Can you risk your heart to dance in the fire of love? To be washed by the tears? To share mine/his/our life?t to know It doesn't interest Me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest Me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest Me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of futher pain!
I want to know if you can sit with pain, Mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, Mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstacy fill you to the tips of your fingers & toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest Me if the story you're telling Me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from God's presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours or Mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes"!
It doesn't interest Me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief & dispair, weary & bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done.
It doesn't interest Me who you are, how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with Me/us and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest Me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
I want to know, Can you risk your heart to dance in the fire of love? To be washed by the tears? To share mine/his/our life?what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest Me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest Me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of futher pain!
I want to know if you can sit with pain, Mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, Mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstacy fill you to the tips of your fingers & toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest Me if the story you're telling Me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from God's presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours or Mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes"!
It doesn't interest Me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief & dispair, weary & bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done.
It doesn't interest Me who you are, how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with Me/us and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest Me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
I want to know, Can you risk your heart to dance in the fire of love? To be washed by the tears? To share mine/his/our life?
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Your flesh craves to contain me. You caress the bruises of last night's tryst, my cruel and loving fingerprints. Each blue star my sign, each blue kiss an antidote to loneliness.
The traces of our pleasures darken at first light. All day, these epigrams on whip and bite will pulse invisibly beneath your clothes, quiet tributes to our erotic dialogues.
The ancient gods played like this, unashamed of their obsessions, heroic in their capacity for pain, primal in their delights, bruising what they loved for pleasure.
Tonight we'll lose ourselves again in high-intensity games. Rapacious slave and charming bitch, I'll bend you to my will and you'll submit. You'll beg for the marks of my ownership |
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Do you think we can turn this around? Dying plant so upside down. Can you breathe a chemical sky? Can you see with blood in your eyes?
Acid oceans,poisoned lands, we've got nature's blood on our hands. Acid oceans, poisoned lands, killing her as fast as we can.
Glaciers melting day by day, interesting weather coming your way. World's half starving, easy to see, how their greed and hate come easily.
Acid oceans, poisoned lands. Will we leave a planet of sand? Acid oceans, poisoned lands, break the chains that oil demands. |
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Age: 44 |
Ohio |
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