BLESSED THE POOR IN SPIRIT!

http://thinkpoint.wordpress.com/2011/08/02/blessed-are-the-sorrowful/

I exist again thanks to you ...
Because you've been there for me!
Because you woke up my ego ...
Because I discovered by you
The treasures of my seabed ...
Because you provoked the cure
Of my inadvertent blindness !
Because you accepted what I
Had to offer the most unclaimed ...
Because this is precisely
For me the most excellent
Part of myself and it was
Neglected by the universe!
"Pfff ... Nonsense!", you spit to me as
I was reminding it to you 
With so much intra and paucity ...
Why are you devouring me?
Didn't I ever inspired you
Who had you been to me?
At least that should had happened ...
I close my eyes, turnaround!
How horribly the truth hurts!

IMPROPER

She's all opened ,damp, she's lurking,
She's detecting for him again.
Her doors and hidden niches are
Dripping in honey on his charmer tongue.
In her deep womb he's longing 
Slowly to let himself to heal.
Her flesh's pink  rose petals
Smell like delicate flowers,
Irritated by his soft caress.
He posesses her with wild 
Obsession, he stops only 
Exhausted by the rocking.
Despondent pleasure's harvest,
Gloom! Of her smell, errected.
She, docile to his app'tites,
Her being  giving  up and given.
The sensual, the irresistible,
The most violent of his own
Posessions he's off'ring her.
She 's laying, turned inside out, 
Even open to a sweet death.
Redeemed by his slave who's  harn'ssing
His growling screams. Softening
His lust's dictates which  mowed him.
He wants to nick in her soul,
Furious penetrating in her.
Hopeless he's  looking to fill her.
To be her relieved King,
Flooding her empty flanks
With hot, insatiable desires
His mortal ego to regenerate,
His illusion about the 
Infinite of his destiny .
God, ruler, creator for a while.
He sows liquid fire on water depth.
Fertile in her thirst she's  longing for him
Innocent in his unexpected dive .
Subordinated to absorb him,
To drain him, to encircle him.
With primitive heat, without a fight
Somewhere there her ego is desappearing ...

PSYCHOSIS OR LOVE?

http://midnight-cowgirl.tumblr.com/

When world is collapsing and the neighbor is at death's door

When I leave my life prey to wild wolves

When the illness  enshrouds my body,

When the time is marking my face,

When I sail in a boat thousands of miles away,

Why, for God's sake, 

I can not get away from you ?

How come  every night to sleep with you in tight embrace?

Is it psychosis or love to imagine every moment

touching beauty through your eyes ?

I already blocked you from my mind long ago, 

but my anarchist soul- 

in endless illegitimate night-work - 

walks on and on on her toes by your side

SOLD

You haven't got your beloved anymore!
You sold her at the market.
Cashing her out for a small
Fear of death for just a penny of it!
You left her suspended between
The "yes" and the "no", and the "maybe" ...
She won't believe whatever you say.
She'll never leave you alone.
She will never abandon you for good ...
Only for as long as you are pretending being God.

SOUL'S DISEASE

I'm lost in a universe

http://greggchadwick.blogspot.com/2004_12_01_archive.html

Filled with lovers-betrayers.
I'm slowly dying all alone!
Surrounded by rotten love's tons.
Selfish "drunkens" puked it down 
And then they left so relieved...
Being sure I always survive,
In their collapsing debris .




I'm slowly dying all alone!
I've learned to bewail voiceless,
When the night swallows thirstily 
Fire fuel to be sucked out by
The vibrating hearts of poets;
So they'll be eager to charge
With word the intriguing fate ...




I declare myself as a 
Misfit wandering little ghost ...
Just for Eros through poetry
I overstep laws and logic.
Even though the pure love 's been 
Always a fraud, for that I 'd give
Birth again to my tend'rest dream !




Life, Look at me! I will stick 
My tongue out to you!Deep kiss 
I will give you later though...
Prolonging the now till tomorrow!

TURN BACK

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/b4/Nuremberg_chronicles_f_21r_.png

"... Then the Lord said, ‘How great is the outcry against Sodom and Gomorrah and how very grave their sin! I must go down and see whether they have done altogether according to the outcry that has come to me; and if not, I will know. " (Genesis 18, 20-21).
"... Then the Lord rained on Sodom and Gomorrah sulphur and fire from the Lord out of heaven; and he overthrew those cities, and all the Plain, and all the inhabitants of the cities, and what grew on the ground. But Lot’s wife, behind him, looked back, and she became a pillar of salt. " (Genesis 19 , 24-26).

Sometimes you do not want to turn back

Whether it's to a place or moment.

You afraid to take up your cross which you

Think you might not be able to carry ,

Because perhaps the fate rushed forward

Everything back there 'd hurt you deeply!

What an attractive place is Sodom 

With its beauties, its sights and delights!

But you 'd become  a pillar of salt;

Even though you dared a look there again!

THE FIRST SIN

http://www.paintinghere.com/painting/Sinful_Dreams_9618.html

What if you are or you were 
Since you are not here for me?
I hope to see you in the street
Carefree, I wish to have the chance!
No provision , 'cause I 'm sick ...
I thought that this, I felt,
It isn't defined as "moral."
But it is not moral as well,
Despite the scale and the quality
Of my experienced feelings ...
This was the definitive final
Hitting from my preachy,
Logic, hard-cored self.
Morale is liberating.
But I inadvertently commit suicide.
I turned against my nature,
Only by the desire of your presence.
Of the presence, which also
Never was granted
In any circumstances ...
I played the god to myself.
No wiser than Eve
I ate the forbidden apple.
I have sinned, because sin
Is to go against
Life which you can bear to live.
I'll be chasticed, because I prefer this
From the life, which I bear to live.
There is no return here
Nor referred Messiah ...

LA DAME AUX CAMELLIAS

She said goodbye to you with white flowers

The Lady of the camellias,

The -above all suspicion- concubine,

Who also lives her life in metaphors,

As those in the poetry she whites.

The "now", that she 's longing for,

Indeed, in her dreams

She 's living it, not in practice.

She wasn't believed- it's true-

By nobody, even if much Desperately she sang her passion.

It's time to throw herself in the fire!

Perhaps as a burning firecracker,

For a few moments shining,

As a celestial meteor shard,

Someone would love her, 

The way she wanted to be loved ... So

He can be willing to depose to her a wish ...

What else 's remaining to her any longer

Except to seek for a short, impressive,

But also liberating, romantic death.

Her soul is sick of an incurable disease 

Long ago ...Palliative the euthanasia.

AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL (I)

http://art-for-a-change.com/blog/2005/08/hiroshima-panels.html

The bright lights,
which were adorning the cities,
were passing in various unique formations
in front of the opaque glass window
of our farewell train's wagon.