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D I S S A R A Y
route wend
when night bends
churlish pleasure
the dark sin treasure
come to be bruise balmed
and bedecked with calm
your scars your wounds
the flesh stiched tracer
your night shawled look
you had me at "Babe"
this soothing full drawl
and how you take me
out from the beautiful
carnage
this haunted ruin
inhabitation
calibrated with pains
and painted with
tears
this tumultous
dissaray
Editing stage:
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Comments
wesley snow
Thu, 2011-11-17 21:21
This is seriously not my kind of poem,
but I confess to a certain fascination with it. I would tell you why, but I don't have a clue. wesley
W. H. Snow
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Esker
Thu, 2011-11-17 22:31
Poets key, kinship lore
Thank You Wesley for your fortright honesty!
When I'm writing its a blurry haze sometimes
I can feel out the sharp edges but trying
to transcribe it is a magical mystical occurence
at times....Thank you for commenting on this peice
Im honoured at this!! Mr E
Roscoe Lane
Fri, 2011-11-18 01:06
I love it,
I love it and would not change a thing, it's raw and vibrant, just perfect. Regards Roscoe...
Roscoe Llane,
Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.
Esker
Fri, 2011-11-18 01:16
Calamitous subterfuge
about the wealth of that collision
all sparks and growls
satin eyes with diamond glints
firing the souls wealth
in flaming passage
that velvet perfume lush
hanging in the air
like the promise of snow
like the ache of rain
racing in breeze thick
tropic runs
sometimes there is not a
limit to descriptors
of cosmic tabulations
and tremors in the psyche core
the addiction of addictions
dripping into veins of promise
and that insatiable hunger
for the first fire that stabs
us in passion
till we taste the vibrant
life that courses through
our trembling bliss
(sweet obsession, forever haunting!!)