Email Poem

Your IP Address: 18.188.39.45
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
Had I, been I, would I have been born in the all time of all of things positive Spanish, esp the Flamenco fragrance of all things love, life and flourish casting all pertinent fate to a tortured wind. Cassanova to the Don Juan and their principle of love all for all making in a time tyrade of gifted, gratfed, guilded marriages for peace/finance sake, all alluding to a complex copulaute catatrosphe, a fornicative fiasco beholding into a tonedowned trash truceful marital mix allowing all to be coincident, sophiscated, so families could/would survive patriarchal male testicle tolerance, by soul sacrificasing the daughters at be for their posture. So much for daddy's little girl. I think of the monumental parental treachery of an example that would deride your beautiful born offspring to betroth a total stranger, not of love, butt of mere monetary convenience. Have we changed so much? We condescend ourselves to a bitchery of ill prudent parentry so given our stupid sexual priorities, passive in knowledge, but yet promiscuous in our lame attempt to be moral and intune. Stupid is as stupid does. The more knowledge we have the more we ignore it, agiven our own substitute assine awareness anti protique.  I am smarter than the norm says I am, but less surprised by my il/gotten gain results. Hey dumbass the moron is you and you failed the treated test of social ill/relevance. Love, romance, intimacy, caring, nurturing a love supreme, so as to keep the future alive are far from my ,and even further from its/my grasp, but there is a glimmer of hope intensity, the glamour, the excitement, of just being with someone, eyes aglaze, hearts pounding, in a living embrace with n o pretentions, hands clasped in a warm, moist temperature spooning to show that the heat of love is passing from me to you in a timed tallied agreement; our thoughts racing of only being only together in a total only uncompromising unfaultering liquid censure of a naked of spirituual flesh embrace, that which exceeds any/all prescribed earthly measures of form to content which we can equate a humanily fortelling or bequeathed untolding reverence. Can any two of us/any truly be one in a total lust love sequence, unfettered, enlivened, only for those allowed the holy entrusted prim province given to those that above all elses are soul imbibed, in all that is uncompromised, inconsequential, uninterred, undeterred in a telltale torn torrential, whole viable, visible intonated, agreed upon, yet un-invited for an eternity befit of all that rains aloft supreme? God let it be so, and I will die in a tempered, torrid sacred love peace, unbeknowingst to only a few forlorn forgiven and recompensed pastures green, given and gathered full in love's full flower, sweet in nectar, passive in glance, prolific in natures's posture and beguiled in the blessed pattern of bliss in blooms bride aplenty. Or do I live in a desert love garden, alone, unattended, forgotten, in a bitter dirt death. Who's to know, who's to care? WSho's to remember and rectify that incountenance? Leave a penny, give a penny.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required