Do eye need a kis. Eye need a girl to kis. Eye have a girl that eye can kis.
Eye have kis her in the rain. Eye have kis her in mye heart. Eye have kis her in
mye start of every day for years of love. Eye have only to the kis to go to read more
into kis to find the place she dwells in this old mortal frame of yearning
dwelling place. The kis is purple bliss of alarm blazing love waking me from
death like a Snow White Charmed young man a captive smith to Pocahontas
fame. A dandelion flower lost in the caverns of the depths Ianthe drowning mee
in sea ward tufts of left and right bouts of beating on the air to keep from sliding
to the depths of drowning in her arms of love. A leap at faith a death reprieved
from Grounded Grave a leaping portent making waves of Gragon wings. An
attitude of love refrained in every tuft of wind again the sound of love the beating
of the water on the roof of tin the sound of kis inside the wind and rain. A younger
man and woman would have hardware in the way the nose and yes the nose gay
and the corners of the vampyrific fangs. The center of the tongue is one the belly
button too. The snooker table has a cue it’s called the ball extender bridge it's a
cheater it’s made to let the basest man to reach her in the wind. There is so
many problems with people the gas is oughta sight at the pumps this country is
no longer prominent but a third world country going south. The end of time has
come and arrived the ruthless and worthless rule in the name of god money and
time. Take a number wait in line what’s your name please fill this out and wait.
The number of his namme. Have you got a credit card or payment of any kind iff
you can give me seven dollars for an office visit eye will help you the doctor is inn.
The man was lighting a candle in front of the computer and the lieberrian asked
him what do you think you are doing he said eye cannot see the screen. There is
not very many rich people in all those cars on the highway whizzing by the most of
them is middle class or less the plastic hose on the back seat is a siphon they
use it to get gas. Eye had too many problems at home growing up to ever be a
father. The age factor plus the drug indicator keeps me from trying to further my
benefactor with fodder or with mudder. The morality of this hurried fable of
dividing documents is this a kis.
Slowly dancing in the wind, swaying as to music
Rocking like a ship at sea to the whims of air and water
Her face shone bright with the tears of heaven
By consorts of every shape and hue, this elegant lady stood
White on white, her gown shown among those dressed in like manner
Looking upward, she opened to the rising sun
~Christopher Thor Britt
Today opening my door to descent the steps to visit my garden
makes my dreams come true, my green garden enlightens
my heart most of the time i spend it there, whispering with
my roses, watching the very old green trees, watering the
green grass, i love it.
Suddenly my heart starts beating just found an envelope with
white roses sleeping at my doorsteps, anxious to discover the
sender, with a huge smile my surprise, it was from my darling,
You are the woman of my dreams, I am taking the liberty to
announce, you are my reason to live, if you are not in my life
I will not tolerate my existence one moment longer, I need to
become stronger to carry you towards our love nest share our
hot body, love the love that will slowly put off that burning fire
between us under our green trees very soon.
Lay your roses down, free your hand to hold mine, together,
we will walk towards our green garden and dream of that day
when our eyes will meet to become bride and bridegroom
surrounded by the green trees everywhere, friends clapping
so hard for us to engage with that beautiful touch of our lips,
a sign you belong to me forever.
Will you marry me my woman with green eyes? Oh! yes yes
I screamed not realizing he is not here but a letter in my
hand, the invitation for my own wedding, how blessed we are.
The weather was happy the full moon lighted up the outside
view to watch my roses blossom and maybe tomorrow we will
walk together not only to get married we will upgrade our
thoughts to the highest peak,we will reach our goals by living
as one, we will enjoy whenever we can and endure when we must,
we will not anticipate trouble or unhappiness about what may
or may not happen, but we will walk towards our green garden,
soon as husband and wife.
We will not allow any obstacle stop us from becoming what
needed to be successful, in love always, my heart was
instantly beating towards positive thoughts a husband to love
to sleep with, to cook, to wash, to wake up in the morning have
our cup of coffee in the fresh air, i will stand by my man,
no matter what.
A beautiful marriage in my green garden, all surrounded by huge
green trees ancient as this house belonged to my grandfather
and I inherited it.
I felt like getting married with all those greeneries surrounding
our guests i will place 100 white chairs on each side on the green
grass, and the aisle in the middle with green ribbons on the chairs,
at the end will be the priest standing behind a white table on it
a beautiful green table cloth the chalice and cross next to the bible
between white roses and greeneries.
I need to sleep to wake up early run to my garden and prepare
the roses to share and whisper to me how beautiful they will
become on that unforgettable day, the green grass will emerge
to beautify their existence for our guests, the huge green trees
will wave endlessly with the wind, a flow of some breeze.
We will be married as soon as he walks through my door,maybe today, tomorrow or after tomorrow.
Now we became a family with my green garden it will live to shine and
share the amazing wedding of two lovers married at last with the green
beauty of our garden.
At that moment my thoughts tried to trick me in a discrete
conversation saying, how do you know you will be happy?
can you guarantee that happiness will exist? those were my
repulsive thoughts, disregarding them, i shook my head
with sophistication a vigorous reply we will become
Thee couple in love forever.
Our unique marriage in our Green Garden Of Eden was televised that day
a huge surprise to us and our guests by a close friend as a wedding gift.
Contest for PD. Nature.. Win N0. 8
~True Story Of Abuse~
Marrying her at an immature age, older by 30 years,
arranged marriage by her father.
Abuse started from day one.
Raped fiercely that night, screamed for hours unable
to move, she dozed off.
Ordering her to get his tray of breakfast, in bed,
once in with the tray, he glared at her,
with ferocious eyes, snatched it, smashed it on her head,
the boiling coffee burning her face, the glass hit her head
strongly, a mortal blow, she lost conscious.
He held her by her hair opened a dark small room
threw her inside, and closed the door. Not knowing
what to do, her face hurting from the burns,
the head bleeding from the glass, so tortured
she dozed off.
A bang the door opens he snatches her from her hair again
take her to the dirty old bed, and begins raping her like
a wild animal. She lost conscious, and woke up again in
the same dark room, dirty, aching, hungry, helpless,
not knowing when someone anyone would come
to her rescue.
After a few nights the same procedure, she started
fainting out of weakness. One dark night he carried
her far in his car, she felt being thrown out,
Awake in the hospital completely blind screamed?
where am I? mother please dad, her mum held her
caressed her, told her what is wrong with her,
due to the abuse of days and nights.
Sorry my child, you will be blind, disfigured, pregnant
but please don't worry, we will take care of you and
Apologizing and crying. They took her home that
day, to her room.They left the room, she never saw
them again, she committed suicide later a knife
right into her heart. Bled to death.
Her true story as an abused newly wed.
~Who What Where~
A friends true story.
One of those days while walking in the mall
I noticed a camera man running after me
asked if he can interview me about a survey
concerning those 3 words Where What Who
concerning marriage. Although I am a reporter
I didn't know why I agreed maybe it would
help other teenagers not to do the same
mistake my friend did. I had to tell her story.
The camera was on me then all of a sudden
What were her plans?
She was still at school the last year when finishing
her studies she was planning to marry her boyfriend
one day and work with him at his Boutique but
her father never liked him as he was not from
the same country.
Where is she from?
She's from a small state living with a very strict father
and an old fashion envierment, he always stood in her
way never allowed her to grow up building her own
personality he even forced her to get married.
Who was she going to marry?
She was young and got married to a man chosen by
her father only met him once following the traditions in the
old days he was older than her by 25 years.
Where did she get married?
She got married at church the ceremony took place
after that as bride & groom they stood at the door saying
their goodbye to each guest some would kiss some only
What happened that day at church?
It was full 300 guests waiting for the bride in a beautiful
white wedding dress a veil to hide her face she was a virgin
in her hands a bouquet of white roses, held by her dads arm
to walk all the way to be given by hand to her future husband.
What happened afterwards?
That day passed away so quickly she found herself a bride at
his home for the first time the night is here all alone with her
husband very quiet man there was no champagne no smiles no
music no talking only his routine ordered her to go find the
bedroom change in a black night gown and wait for him.
Where did she wait for him?
She searched for a normal bedroom as everything was upside down
everywhere she found one with a single bed undone ugly color on the
verge to start crying but had to hold back afraid went into bed disgusted instead of dreaming of a beautiful wedding night imagining how her
evening will progress dreaming of love like a bride would be thinking of.
She knew how unlucky her life will be since she entered his home.
What happened in that bedroom?
She was waiting he comes in half naked no kissing no talking no
nothing but sleeping with her in a few seconds he goes off
walking out from the bedroom to have his dinner back to bed
turns his back and in a second he was snoring.
What Who Where the camera man was screaming? your joking,
no sir she was not joking after that night she ran away from his
home back to her dad and told him seriously what happened and
that she wanted to divorce him and never see him again.
What happened to her since? Who is she with ? Where is she living now?
She got married to her boyfriend after a few years very happily married.
A joyful ending until she passed away leaving two beautiful well grown up children by now.
I as a writer and reporter i get motivated to write poetry after
reading the title. But that was a painful story, so sad.
So, if a matrix is a body substance, in which all cells are embedded?
Then can I not spiritually say that the body of Christ is also a matrix?
Well, is it safe to assume or safer to not assume the differences in such?
If I have a World Wide Web with many matrixes, there must be a main.
How does one achieve the main matrix without a conversion of all matrixes?
Each living breathing organism has a matrix, but what supplies this?
Seems how all bodies have cells embedded in a matrix,
Is it not safe to assume that the universe has a matrix?
If so, where is the main universal matrix?
There must be a connection of some sorts,
Nevertheless, what is it and where is it?
Moreover, why has this not been thought of?
If the body is the temple of the Lord,
Then He must have a main matrix.
Matrix is Latin for womb.
So in which womb is this matrix?
Only a female has a womb.
There must be one that is required by none.
Now let us get even more difficult here.
We have a World Wide Web with many matrixes.
What if the World Wide Web is an individual womb?
It obviously has good and evil in its growth.
Could there have been two that fused by one?
Could there have been a conversion of all matrixes.
Or is there only one main matrix being a female?
Let us get back to the body of Christ and His matrix.
Let us even go to your own bodies matrixes.
An enclosure within in which something originates or develops,
This is what lives and breathes inside of you every day, a matrix.
Do we not develop Christ within ourselves, and He our originator?
Is it not safe to assume that we are the body of Christ?
Moreover, that we are of a matrix that has a universal main matrix?
®Registered: Ann Rich 2006
I can’t wait to have a love match
With you in a love nest
Surrounded by love-lies-bleeding
Sitting on the love seat
Where we hold a love knot together
And with love beads around your neck
After which we’ll travel down to Love-land
Where we will be joined in a love-in
Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder
It’s a common saying that is decoded from the look of a man
But of a truth, genuine and true beauty is beyond what the eyes can see
Only the heart can feel it
It glows with such power, even the ‘blind’ will perceive
Regardless of our status, rich or poor
Aboriginality, the language or cultural background
We all can see and perceive this inner beauty with the same view
One advice for my fellow brothers,
Always by pass the look go straight inward
And from the inward, outward appearance can be well appreciated
And advice for everyone
As you take time to make up the physical beauty
Create more time to nurture the inner one
For when you are inwardly ugly
The outward projection is nothing but a fake
Vows were taken, and prayers said, on that warm day,
Of their blessed wedding day, that fulfilled
The dream that had been seen, and fantasies thought.
And the Angel’s dress already bought, and nurtured
At the source of that Great River, River Nile…
Her little girl fantasy came to life, when Andy held
Her at the alter, and the two came together
As man and wife, that bright day,
That the church was filled with stars,
Coming from galaxies both near and far.
No tears were shed when exchanging the rings.
And kissing when on glasses there were clings,
She looked gorgeous before him in a gown of white
‘Cause the angel in her was such a wondrous sight,
As waters poured from the lake, into the Great River
They danced on the softest clouds of gold
And began the promise to have and to hold.
We’ll remember her veil and the long matching train
And know how she looked when taking his name
And became Mrs Balondemu, at the source of the Great River
That day was be filled with joy and with love
And heaven sent blessings from God up above.
Sadly the day came to an end.
But the angel now has a lover and friend
Fulfilling a love, brewed at the Source!
Look closely. What do you see? A white rabbit in snow.
No? I’m the memory of a bride, wedded to eternity:
an extincting marriage. Draped in a pearl gown.
Laced to the throat. Dressed like some decadent uneaten cake,
ignore the teeth marks in the shadowed parts.
I was his bridal-feast and now I feast on white,
it’s in my breath and crackles in each bulbous vein.
It eats me from the inside like an infection:
my white veil now my shroud. The crows gather,
their pebbles eyes stare.
I’ll be the portrait of a bride, the hollow image,
slant-hanging in an echoing bedroom, the odour
of rose petals masking the creamed bed.
Certainty can die in a heartbeat.
Search my lifeless, unblinking eyes,
wash your feet in their shallow waves-
these puddles can’t overflow, the wound’s opening deeper.
I’ll leave your moon-daisies in my hair and feel them wilt,
or grow, rooting themselves to my mind.
My skin’s the colour of cobwebs;
I could stitch myself together and become, in the right light,
a remembered figure. My veiled face could be any other bride’s.
But the stench of my clenched wound forces me to shut Spring out.
Numb the clocks, each tick the sound of grinding teeth.
Dressed to die, am I already dead?
He did not want my skin, the one that I gave him,
but it’s no longer mine; it hangs loosely on the precipice.
When in doubt, I loved; who knew
that the skin could still bruise after death.
In this skeleton costume, the statis blinds.
The new moon watches obliquely;
If I am still enough he’ll think I’m stone;
he won’t recognise my newly marble heart:
the dead meat-organ hard and cold.
I fade and even the outline of my shadow disappears.
I ooze that white smell from every pore and it
twists my unbreaking insides into knots.
I am decay, all I touch turns white
but watch me yellow as the moon grows,
beaming in the candlelight.
Give me his heart.
This ghost-bride is owed a heart.