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Topic:
In Days Of Old
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I once was a cactus passing by with prickly fingers and prickly thighs and the boys did try to stay away. They knew for me it was not a game but life or death like Russian roulette and it did not suit me, not suit me well or so they said, for a maiden to be as haughty as I. "take me to heart, don't lead me astray!" I said but all their wanted was to play. I disguised my thorns and thistles as luxurious hair, braided and molded it, to battled I went though merely content to dance. They pressed me close, ground me between their thighs left me there to moan and sigh, my beautiful thorns and thistles did die. I mourn this, for days, for months for years. Where are my thorns, whose beauty once penetrated their flesh? Vanished, vanquished, turned to daggers with in my eyes. The innocent excitement I had for lover's words has all but gone. No longer do I believe what they say. Where is the desert rose that I once was, who needed little more but sun, whose lovely fruit was eaten away and still would like to play? Where is the haughty me, my haughty self? For her I cry! For she was not bad,cruel or mean,just merely naive to believe that playing was fair. I bow to thee...and...to your written words...can I have your autograph ?...lol...nicely done .... 
make that...Amazin' Grace !!...lol...remember what they say...just cause my head comes to a point...doesn't mean I'm sharp !... 
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Topic:
Getting Old Sucks!!
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I found a gray eyelash recently. 
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Topic:
In Days Of Old
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I once was a cactus passing by with prickly fingers and prickly thighs and the boys did try to stay away. They knew for me it was not a game but life or death like Russian roulette and it did not suit me, not suit me well or so they said, for a maiden to be as haughty as I. "take me to heart, don't lead me astray!" I said but all their wanted was to play. I disguised my thorns and thistles as luxurious hair, braided and molded it, to battled I went though merely content to dance. They pressed me close, ground me between their thighs left me there to moan and sigh, my beautiful thorns and thistles did die. I mourn this, for days, for months for years. Where are my thorns, whose beauty once penetrated their flesh? Vanished, vanquished, turned to daggers with in my eyes. The innocent excitement I had for lover's words has all but gone. No longer do I believe what they say. Where is the desert rose that I once was, who needed little more but sun, whose lovely fruit was eaten away and still would like to play? Where is the haughty me, my haughty self? For her I cry! For she was not bad,cruel or mean,just merely naive to believe that playing was fair. I bow to thee...and...to your written words...can I have your autograph ?...lol...nicely done ....
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Topic:
Simply Love
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Bliss
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Topic:
In Days Of Old
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'I mourn this, for days, for months for years. Where are my thorns, whose beauty once penetrated their flesh? Vanished, vanquished, turned to daggers with in my eyes. The innocent excitement I had for lover's words has all but gone.' I think those lines alone could stand by themselves as that particular stanza. They say it all and in my opinion are powerfully beautiful and leaving just enough wonderment for the reader to use their own perceptions in understanding what you are writing about. 
 
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Topic:
In Days Of Old
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wonderful analogy...and sad to know we can't get back that innocence of thought and belief
your writing always makes me think 
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Topic:
Penis Study
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why is it only women responded? 
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i knows. the polls closed at 8 o' clock sharp (Pacific coast time), and a minute after, Obama was announced President...now how in the world did that happen? they didn't even count our votes! |
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Topic:
In Days Of Old
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I once was a cactus passing by
with prickly fingers and prickly thighs and the boys did try to stay away. They knew for me it was not a game but life or death like Russian roulette and it did not suit me, not suit me well or so they said, for a maiden to be as haughty as I. "take me to heart, don't lead me astray!" I said but all their wanted was to play. I disguised my thorns and thistles as luxurious hair, braided and molded it, to battled I went though merely content to dance. They pressed me close, ground me between their thighs left me there to moan and sigh, my beautiful thorns and thistles did die. I mourn this, for days, for months for years. Where are my thorns, whose beauty once penetrated their flesh? Vanished, vanquished, turned to daggers with in my eyes. The innocent excitement I had for lover's words has all but gone. No longer do I believe what they say. Where is the desert rose that I once was, who needed little more but sun, whose lovely fruit was eaten away and still would like to play? Where is the haughty me, my haughty self? For her I cry! For she was not bad,cruel or mean,just merely naive to believe that playing was fair. |
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Topic:
Penis Study
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Topic:
Excuse
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Wow, nice read Enderra, and nice to see you here.. The road to truth has many turns, missing some can cause burns. To some its an ever-lasting maze, Many roads just end, As they set with open mouth in a daze. May your own road stay its course for your heart. 
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Topic:
Excuse
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I have driven up and down and west and right on all those freeways
Great Write. 
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Topic:
Have you noticed?
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i don't get it either. I also feel really old when i have to ask people what some shorthand means.
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In a nutshell.
Although Obama won, Mc Cain won in our county. Just in case us Obama supporter were getting to excited. |
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Topic:
PENIS wants a RAISE
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Topic:
Excuse
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Have you ever had the distinct feeling of being lied to, as you watch the persons mouth move you are thinking, wow, they think I am an idiot. This not the poem.
of excuses piles at the door a trash can to dump'em in everything is orange orange no longer hot turning violent palm trees a constant reminder of paradise lost on every route out/in 210-5-101 91-405-110 with all the comings and goings we've misplaced a free way home she screams chapter and verse to the view rearview mirror reflecting no one you can fill up but you're not full up yet spiritual jargon circles heads devoid of sense an if si on parle en francais ce n'est pas plus clair non plus grey greens melt blue open mouths with swollen tongues mist over in certitude they aren't the ones misshapen by excuse now high you can't climb'em they're slick polished refined as crude underpinnings in every cuff the knowing turns you ice dreaming at all proves hazardous belief now the villain What sense the sense seem obsolete what use hands or feet fallen on excuses fleeing forwardness swallowing lies like burnt dry toast asking what's worst the dry the bitter personne no ones prepared to pay the price ad.mit'tance instead excuses a touch of blame so if new arms must be created let them race round excuses in landfills overflown numb lest love leaves nose pinched gasping stench muck rancor ears held singing la la- la la la la-la eyes bleeding torrents never to reach parched hearts heavy from excuse excuses |
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Topic:
I'd love to sign off
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nice meter, sweet!
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Topic:
Talkin
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if you're looking for silence
baby look somewhere else i bavard babble and sometimes make sense i can talk to trees and i talk to rocks not because i like hearing myself talkin but rather i don't see it as an expense however wall talkin is not my forte i just end up climbing them despite the fact they are immense i talk to communicate cause in the world where i live the talkin is free open lavish and dense |
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Topic:
I've never seen #1
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Topic:
Prayer
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merci
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