

In my bourgeois way.Popular heroes sing the songs people sing when they're alone And your angelic voice leaves me no choice Be loved by me in my bourgeois wayIn my bourgeois way.
Receive me on a misfit's holiday I'll read you poetry I'm going to always send you my poetry, my poem to you, this play You could direct me
to the heart of my convictions Take hold my tired lover
in seclusion, in the moon time: Visitations, debts of passion; apparitions As substantial as a Brave or soil or buffalo.
Meeting with the redcoats, they Brought visions to this shaman. Soon y


We Drink WellbutrinPoetry is our beloved language. A literal compulsive regurgitation.We Drink Wellbutrin
A mindful irritating interpretation.
A lifelong education wrote in turn.
This interview with the dirty mirror can do naught but bleed the truth
through the eyes of the exquisites whose souls with poesy do burn.
Fanciful dreams and liquid streams
brought forth and grown languid
in the subtle imagined conscious
of those damaged souls oft spurned.
Can you burn in the bleak night,
frightened by the milky dawn?
Forget the day and come to play with me in forests o


CandyI watched you through the dirty window And listened to what you had to say I loved you then my darling And I felt no need to prayCandy
And when I just kissed your lips I felt the world stop its turn I love you always darling My heart will always burn
And when I last held your hand firm And lay in your precious arms I am loving you my darling A prisoner of your charms
My lover I miss your eyes And the sheen on your skin I am in love with you my darling Let my life with you begin
My lover I miss your smile And the warmth
--
A poem needs more love?
Note me with a link to the poem in question
and I'll see about featuring it for =DailyLitDeviations
I'm resigning. Please read.
--
A poem needs more love?
Note me with a link to the poem in question
and I'll see about featuring it for =DailyLitDeviations
I'm resigning. Please read.
--
Thus does the necessary angel of the poetic, arrive to save the angel of history, from dying of melancholy in a suffocating world of ruins.
Are you ok?
--
A poem needs more love?
Note me with a link to the poem in question
and I'll see about featuring it for =DailyLitDeviations
I'm resigning. Please read.
--
Thus does the necessary angel of the poetic, arrive to save the angel of history, from dying of melancholy in a suffocating world of ruins.
--
Anybody who is any good, is different from everybody else!
great to hear from you .
x
--
Thus does the necessary angel of the poetic, arrive to save the angel of history, from dying of melancholy in a suffocating world of ruins.
--
Now that's just RUDE!
I'm only witty on the Internet.
--
Thus does the necessary angel of the poetic, arrive to save the angel of history, from dying of melancholy in a suffocating world of ruins.
--
In this Chaos and burning I find a way to release, these are my words, these words set me free, This is my breath of life, this is me, in my free colored and spirited world of poetry.
Jeannie
Previous Page12345...Next Page