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Safe and ContentTake me into your arms. . .
Hold me close to your body.
Our hearts will beat as one;
The rhythm of love.
The familiar, mysterious
smell of your body;
Intoxicating - taking me over,
As I'm wandering in your eyes.
In this brief moment,
I am in peace
surrounded by your love. . .
Bathing in the warmth of passion.
Please. . . I beg you. . .
Never let go.
Let me live in your heart. . .
Safe and Content
MemoriesThe memories come as stabs to my heart.
I remember the smell of the air;
The cool breeze that came off the water.
I remember the way your lips felt on my neck,
And the hushing sound your cheek made against mine.
It was a sound only I could hear.
Your touch ignited a heat
Across my skin, injected to the pit of
My stomach, then echoing softly
Through my body.
I remember the way you felt in my arms.
Strong and supportive-
Fearsome and fragile-
The salty taste of your flesh
Was the spice of life, and
My hunger for it was insatiable.
I felt complete. . . content. . .
At the same time scared it would end.
Who are you?
Why have you moved me so?
Where did you go?
Fate has played a dirty trick I cannot
Wash my hands of.
A thousand times moreover
I have forgiven you.
For the words that would have
been spoken by someone who hates me
that you spoke to me so easily.
Broken and bleeding I forgave.
With wide open arms I've tried to reach
out to you.
In return I get lashed on the back
with words from your sharp tongue.
But there they are; my arms streched
out. . . waiting.
Over the years you've pushed everyone away.
Between you and I stands a
dark void of emptiness.
I've kept my distance in hope you'd get better.
Still with outstreched arms I reach
Now I look across the void,
And I see you all alone.
No one around, empty, sad. . .
You still can't understand why.
I'll drop my outstreched arms.
A single tear will fall for
the sake of being human;
My broken, hardened heart
Will cause the tear to fall quickly.
Try to understand me.
I'll take one last look into
your eyes. . .
Turn away, still wanting to reach out once more. . .
The scars on my sould hold back the urge.
A Legacy of WisdomYou have scribed your words,
wealthy wreaths of wisdom,
on paper never torn or worn.
You have etched your passions
on my brow.
You have left this wallowed world
victorious; eyes resplendent
with the wisdom you wrote and wrought.
Your passions shall echo in my ears
And should I stray into some
sullen storm, or get caught in
the torrents of the monsoon, Ill know
that Lears been there before, and
Ill not swoon.
And if Hades doors open up
before my stranded soul, and scorch
it with the heat of hell, Ill recall that
I am not the first Dantes been down
there as well.
And if on my death-bed I mourn
the life I wasted on wine and stale
chocolate bars, Ill recall Wildes words and
hope that, though long in the gutter, I did
glimpse the stars.
NonexistenceI pray to a God I have never seen,
who lives in a world that has never been,
to save my heart that has never felt,
from eternity's failures, eternity's guilt.
My feet step on grounds no men stepped before,
my lips taste the poison, bitter and sore,
yet it does not kill me,
does that mean,
that I am immortal,
or that I've never been?
I pray to a God that may not exist,
while the iron shackle tears up my wrist,
to tell me the difference of being and not,
to show me the memories that I forgot.
My mind flies to places nobody has reached,
to learn that the stars are nothing but bleached,
spots on the dark, they're not even light,
I think that's 'cause real light brings nothing but fright:
It's bound to discover
all crimes, neatly covered.
I pray to a God because maybe he is,
unlike me and the world,
in them I miss
something to reach.
AnarchyScream the anthem of the anarchist!
What is it? Exactly.
I won't tell you; make it up.
Go away. Blow it up.
Burn it down. Deface the town.
But don't give in,
Never -- no.
That's the song we all love so.
Freedom past extremity.
Far away, in my backyard
I own the world; I am a bard.
I wear a beard and shave my head;
All the normals want me dead.
I won't give up; I ramble rave.
You'll never make me behave.
My brother, loser, freak, meek geek
You know-- the beatnick, hippy, punk--
The rock bands my parents debunk--
We treasure what we cannot have:
No allegiance to any flag.
out of Gardenwhat sea
how it is welling your eyes a wet mess
where urchins of the ocean will spill to howl their elegy
where mermaids will turn widows
once brine has swallowed whole their sailor babes
stewarding the land instead
is why i never set sail with you
but to lay in gardens, oh
a bed sheet rotten by the ultraviolet
and our laps full of stars
what black soil will pervert your knees there
where moonlight will mirror out from your teeth
to run fanatic toward cosmic space
after bathing in the space among us
where walking air pushes every dust
one of sun-dried butterflies
one of beaten rug with broom
one of honey bees minus harvest
one from sands of human crust
when traced is an orb monster, Jupiter
around your left breast, so that nipple
a blood storm just under the skin
and asking where you sowed the marigolds
is only to hear you choke the words time and water
in the same sentence
to hear you say there will be no rain for a week
while an ocean is
the plasticized quantum theory
une voleur honteux
slip of the tongue
in each saturated pore
spectrum rehearses its symphony
crooked whispers of a flute
a glimpse of blue infinitude
quiets the confines of los alamos
¿quién es él? eso piensa
paralysis in the peristalsis
jewel in the vitreous humor
until it watercolors
the poison of psyche
papillae the plagues
oxidizing ash and ember
a quivering effigy
splinters the moon
the mirrored hand exhales
swept the epileptic ceiling
dissolving tendrils of mahogany
detached from the retina
tranquil, the deception
the film frame fades
captured in the mercury
Perspectives of a Hallucino...Comfort. The softness of the basement couch. Misery loves company.
Trickling through my fingers. Whispering across my face, her disappearing
lips trace across my cheeks. The smell is sweet, but she is rough against
my throat. Her smell isn't so much intoxicating as it is suffocating, yet
the smoke paralyses my senses and touches my soul. Her street name is
undeserving of her effect on me. Forever, she shall be known to me as
Mary-Jane. I will never know her beauty.
Snowflakes fall, blood is in the air,
Covering white figure of pride,
Lying forceless on the ground,
Having no strength to fight with the snow,
Nor even with reality,
Which drifts down from the empty sky,
Where the moon cannot be seen,
Where birds cannot be heard,
At which wolves can only howl.
Hear me child.
True, you are but one person-
But the smallest deed you do
Can echo through the lives of many.
Each of us has potential to impact the world.
The end result of our actions is
up to us.
Don't leave this world unremembered.
Your personal legend. . .
The legacy you leave behind. . .
Should be one of valor, courage, compassion
I believe for the most part,
People are good.
Sometimes it takes the goodness of
Others to realize it.
This is what I have learned.
This is what I know.
This is what I will teach.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More