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Old 01-30-2003, 11:22 AM   #1
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words their whirl

whirl her rays that stray the sainted off the veil fell low in a glow felt warm the underspinnings beg in the beg-innings opening pleasures reassure the abstract and gradual play of the signal fire senses worlds imagined beings relationships amongst them the hem the garment its texture and smell that something began to stir to the quick capture and all the rest was a spiral falling falling all lingering and fingering tongues themselves but a few of the constituents indirectness just to stave off the inevitable for there were insinuations in sin you ate and drank your fill of the quill excite the night plight drawn irrevocably incaved
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Old 01-30-2003, 12:22 PM   #2
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Just what I was going to say!
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Old 01-30-2003, 09:11 PM   #3
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Quote:
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Just what I was going to say!
justice just ice just dice with a hat on she was glowing to slay
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Old 01-31-2003, 01:51 AM   #4
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impossible to describe like the fell heat of the swollen wombag, the hard liquid weight, the massise stretch and pull of the finger-perfect texture if only you could get your fingers on it and then squeeze like a pear, a ripe fruit, the sweet juiciness of it streaming over your hand but not streaming because it's all kept inside by the impossible perfection of the surface tension of the water balloon. The breast as it showed holy there in the tight defined glint of steel, chrome, black anthracite, tempting and profound as the final answer to the questioin everyone wants to know.

Like her eye now which is belashed and dropping dangerously as she looks spiders on the splintered floor across and across and up my leg where her fingers too would have gone had I made the first opening in the space for this. It's all steaming lava and heaving chests, the eternal sluggardly pain of the male wityh his poor pushbone dashed against so many hundreds of hopes and blank pictures until the poor dick just can't haul it up anymore. And meanwhile there's pinkness entwined in the pulsing flesh mill, in the hot throb of turgid tissues swollen and tumescent and glistening known as: The Grinder.
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Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the
milk of Paradise...

Lit Stories: The Cabinet of Dr. Mabeuse...
Even more... T h e W e b s i t e
~The Love That Is Not Madness Is Not Love~


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Old 01-31-2003, 09:58 AM   #5
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words?

Illiterate alliteration illuminates ill mates
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One Love, One heart,
Let's get together and feel all right
One love, One heart,
Give thanks and praise to the Lord and it will be all right
One Love, one heart,
Let's get together and feel all right.
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Old 01-31-2003, 03:38 PM   #6
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Synergy

Bolted leatherwings bind her rays, crankshaft seizure stripping gears grinding thunderously to metallic staccato, generous blue sparks stinging through coils of flesh, dendrites dividing, flickering glass eye encased in steel lashing out to upward-heaved conciousness and raining vile blessings searing shred soul of rose-petalled saint in slanted heaven where heart shudders into gel screaming white profusion of raw energy as stars bleed from stigmata silhouettes.


* * AH

Last edited by Artina Heartflash : 10-29-2012 at 06:06 AM.
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Old 02-22-2003, 08:27 AM   #7
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Old 02-22-2003, 10:15 AM   #8
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How still in ropes, in chains, immobilized beneath the red light on dark nights in silence and waiting, the warm surge of blood, the heart's tick, the iris dilated and reflecting the single flame--also waiting.

You've seen this before: the iron bedstead, the poor mattress and crumpled sheets, the seedy room above wet streets, the manicles, the whips, lust and adrenaline, whiskey and semen , the empty hallways in blue light. Everything too tight to move but internally moves: tissues swell, fluids seep, heart pumps, images spew behind closed eyes, your breath is the hot gush of unbearable patience.

You want to be used, as ships use the sea and comets the sky. You want him to come to you and come through you and consume you, turn you inside out if he must, but never leave you alone.

The beauty of steel, the hardness of iron on bare skin, the steady rise and fall of your body in waiting. The tides of the moon on dim streets all over the world, on the stars blinded in the dark, and on the dark subterranean currents of your blood as well. The heart is a stupid thing and yet so wise; an animal in a thicket, a fish deep in a quiet pool, waiting for the fisherman with his hook, sweet and cruel.

The sound of his shoe on the stairs.
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(E-Publishers Internet Consortium)


Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the
milk of Paradise...

Lit Stories: The Cabinet of Dr. Mabeuse...
Even more... T h e W e b s i t e
~The Love That Is Not Madness Is Not Love~


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Old 02-22-2003, 03:00 PM   #9
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show your quill some dope-chains 'n' brains in gilded cage be near earth but not in nor on was the red attractive of the active darkness with its swarming warm nests somehow the stillness of the steamy swamp land indoor fan slow rotation felt anxious distracted abstracted couldn't think o' nothin' else wasn't good for nothin' yeah blood did have something to do with it if not all to do with it see the ink-skill an eye rise t' transmit images blood-line take-over artist gangster universality alert on time out of time rely upon the the flame the blaze the inherent craze ways an added rinse t' no avail no wind in the sail a warm stillness to the day out on the water no wind but there was luxury screened in walled off the burning refused sailers their speech bequeathed t' utters tempting passagewaves a tightened tool chest cavity the gravity of which was getting to be too much to bear so then bare is all by layer by veil the scale of valve decay of all internal movies gone no more access to nothing but dose eyes hungrily thirstily blush in the ear that whisper chill whisk away all issues left floatingly unresolved bitterness sweetness all floating flying lying straying saying silent thrill in the the conics fantasy vision decision fatal now had to be made into heat that wouldn't quit until the sea emptied of itself disappeared into space co-melted librarian approach on metal wanting yet still to ride t' roll t' stroll cajole it could be felt the effect of that orb on all and him and her particularly behind the dark itself streaming in its creamy dreams textures wear the crew their eyes rise to the oblivion
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Old 02-22-2003, 05:46 PM   #10
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Wink

On bed of nails rusting, Maiden of Iron with steam-headed Tin Man, into Blue Moon Oblivion thrusting, bodies chiming heavy metal rhyming off steel trap door rising from floor, surprising. Enter The Masked Welder, blowtorch in hand.

"Honey, I'm home!!!..."
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Old 02-27-2003, 10:43 AM   #11
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emergence

As energy serges, the after thought merges with lust for the spot that brings out the lot. Feelings encircled in joy, far from things that annoy... trusting the feeling, that soars to the ceiling.
Bringing a joy felt, that makes one melt. Asking in bliss to what one could miss. For the moment in soaring heavenly adoring, to bring about joy with one single toy.
Oh come to the sky, and sail my heart fly. Bring with you, your song and I shall cleave with you along, the stars up above, that shroads like a glove. The beautiful song, oh do cum along.
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Old 03-12-2003, 07:53 AM   #12
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sail a veiled honey in code underneath steaming condensed into manifestation creamy-headed monsters of delight undone drapes traipse be wed of nails thrusting trust in extremes gleaming rods self-replicating thirsts and anguishes angel wishes accumulate until crossover convergences and confluences could not be helped that way into the glue room with limited seeding a veil label fell aloft climbing all pertinent bodies their respective environs abode surf rising to enter mask survey taunt(ed) room kindly assisted steamy stereo set-up gesture inside glow her name in flame just before cooled from serge display too much for her delicate new circuitries buzzed and hissed her puddings' internal bubbling deep within other aspects of the quick of her being circles encircled creams viscosities teasing gauzes and the lick flick ceremony on tap an oyster mergencey apparatus puddled to the taste test loom anarchically meta-ideological strobe-blinking be linking joys outputs to inputs after a spell of space and an adequate time-chill fluidity thaw simultaneously applied Stories of the June Girl swirl and curl all through the appropriate fabrics in store not for sale nor ready yet for the winds of transmutation but rewinding were velocitously getting under sway the diamonds gleamed their welcome clichés without shame nor modesty except artless still it was yet in its own motions lustfully wild reminds of flashes adding themselves to one another too rapidly for the organism to metabolize: some theme had to give before being assimilated therefore a kiss t' set it off an offer that could not be diffused she drew it in an held it tightly this whole state of mind and being as well as thing a body of light as well as flesh the vapors did fall to all to feel fully matrixes matters of concern t' reverie one it was Swirl Girl who let me know of these themes beware her underwear are not what they appear in their sheer manifestations inviting closer inspection not just optically but here is where virtual glove invisibly thin might beacon t' be akin t' skin itself merging into both beneath and surfacewear
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Old 10-29-2012, 06:07 AM   #13
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ah....thanks to whoever moved this thread from SRP to poetry section.

Last edited by Artina Heartflash : 11-02-2012 at 07:13 AM.
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Old 11-02-2012, 07:14 AM   #14
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No dancers?
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Old 11-02-2012, 12:40 PM   #15
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Artina Heartflash View Post
No dancers?
Card almost filled at Tea Time and Sympathy though room to twirlwhirling as Roseland recedes into mist and Argentine gauchos wrap long fingers entwining rose-teethed senoritas' undulating waists still exists somewhere in timespace. Churchbells' waltz dongdingdings into cadence of 1812 echoed later in soused Sousas mariachis and in a heartflash she windwhirls him in cyclonic Coney Island Coaster turning turning to Mother Mary's square calling to come down right. Still and inspite they tumble floorward in a fox's quick-trotted step, landing Latinate her down legs up openly invitingly him up leg down invisitingly in subtle rhythm...

What the sayer danced:

Cha! Let the love be danced!

Cha! Let the dance be loved.

Cha! Let the dancers and the dance become one in loversloving.
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Old 11-02-2012, 01:51 PM   #16
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Harsh tapping of her sharply turned stiletto against his leather heel entrapping, her frayed shimmer of veiled rose arose with the thorn which thickened passion into quickened steps and no mercy was found for the torn.

Hearts asunder rolled together as thunder through flash, flesh and fury of Rough Rouge Storm born

And the dancer cried to the gigolo
"O Valentino, bite my rosebud."

Last edited by Artina Heartflash : 11-02-2012 at 03:56 PM. Reason: Okay, I had to insert a comma of a breath
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Old 11-03-2012, 06:17 AM   #17
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Tio_Narratore View Post
Card almost filled at Tea Time and Sympathy though room to twirlwhirling as Roseland recedes into mist and Argentine gauchos wrap long fingers entwining rose-teethed senoritas' undulating waists still exists somewhere in timespace. Churchbells' waltz dongdingdings into cadence of 1812 echoed later in soused Sousas mariachis and in a heartflash she windwhirls him in cyclonic Coney Island Coaster turning turning to Mother Mary's square calling to come down right. Still and inspite they tumble floorward in a fox's quick-trotted step, landing Latinate her down legs up openly invitingly him up leg down invisitingly in subtle rhythm...

What the sayer danced:

Cha! Let the love be danced!

Cha! Let the dance be loved.

Cha! Let the dancers and the dance become one in loversloving.
"invisitingly"... makes the stream of subconcious sparkle ....
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Old 11-04-2012, 01:31 AM   #18
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Rosebud.
Sled of childhood torn for care in carelessness raised and carelesness lived.

Rosebud.
Childhood home of Bob Barker. Reservation of Sicangu Oyate Lakota. Lands lost, lives lost, neighbor of Pine Ridge and Wounded Knee. Was the price right?

Rosebud.
Pink blushing emergently nestled in labial sepals 'neath Mount Venus just-a-gigolo nipped more rudy then rudely ruddies erupting Mt. Venusuvius in flows of magmanamously shed lava-lava and hot breaths of volcanic ash risingfallingrisingflowing in pyrorgasmiclastic avalanche.

...from Soldier Creek to Black Hills aging Valentino on Indian Chief Dark Horse quests for taste of wild rose to snowball his senses...
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Old 11-04-2012, 05:32 AM   #19
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You know too much, Tio. You need a bodyguard.

Honestly, if you write mind benders and heart strokes like this why do you place your efforts at Lit? You should have a book next to Tolkien's 300 languages in the ...well... write it and I'll build the library.
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Old 11-05-2012, 10:18 AM   #20
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If you'll be my bodyguard,
I could be your long lost pal.
I could call you Arti, and Arti
When you call me, you can call me Pall. Call me Pall.

Thanks for the compliment, Artina, and if you build it, they will come...

But I'm not sure it'll be to read me; many seem to find my free pro/ver/se hurt their third eye. I do have fun, though...and...

...May I have the next dance?
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Old 11-06-2012, 05:46 AM   #21
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Quote:
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...May I have the next dance?
Name the music and place.
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Old 11-06-2012, 12:24 PM   #22
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Name the music and place.
Le Jeu du Rapt from Stravinsky's Sacre du Printemps on the banks of the Lethe or the strand of the Liffey. Your choice. Pick up Styx.
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Old 11-06-2012, 02:33 PM   #23
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Tio, that music is too stressful. Feels like piccolo rape.

perhaps "Morning Mood" ...bur what locale?
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Old 11-06-2012, 03:10 PM   #24
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It's supposed to feel that way (and you think the feeling from the sound, eh?)

Morning Mood...

The beach oceanside opposite Pea Island in the OBX...storm-ravaged now, but still one of my favourite sunrises...
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Old 11-09-2012, 06:49 AM   #25
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It's rather sad when the bot with fetish for UGG boots becomes your morning inspiration.

Morning Mood

Orangle globe
Dangles from frontal lobe,
Tangled mussels of steel
Push electrical eel.

Sunlight is slack
Bright red adirondack
Braces stiffening cold
Of black tentacled back.

"What shall we play?
Softball? Hardball? Don't say.
I'll just cram you with spam.
There's much more on the way..."

"Kiss my UGG Boots, son.
All in one
Be undone"

dun din dun...

Last edited by Artina Heartflash : 11-09-2012 at 07:11 AM.
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