An audacious anarchist once stood before those who queried the factualism of their foresight that they all never knew. He clutched his saber so seditiously from his tattered sheath and plunged it deep within his cogitation so that others would see the malcontent depths that engulfs their ways. The perils that laid at bay for he laughed them all away, for all those who stood listened with such intent that his consciousness awakened those that saw the perils that were hidden in plain sight. Those were no longer led by the pack of wolves that left a corpuscles stench. The sheep they once were, now they were real men. An audacious anarchist once stood before the wolves and sheep and all the men stood so full of spirit as the audacious anarchist could finally see a purlieu before them that the foresight never allowed them to see. Now they clutch their sabers and plunge it deep within their own anarchist souls; so now the audacious anarchist could slumber and awaken to find the wolves hidden within the darkness of the trees. The land now belonged to all the men as they will never be the irrational sheep.
His flesh yearned as he laid deep within her breast, so deep, so proud as if he claimed his stake as if he had dominated his greatest conquest. So loud, so new, so beautiful, so luminous that it could blind all that would peer through;the depths that could echo his yearning flesh into millions of stars seeking the blindness of night though his love so sweet yet, so deeply intertwined beneath the delicate soft saturated sheets. His flesh yearned another layer of life that he buried so deep amongst his burrowed pride. So illuminating, so everlasting true for he felt a sense of idolatry and she felt his edacious lovely truth.
For every being, there’s a glimmer of deception instilled within our psyche that can penetrate the obscure walls that we create. We unleash these walls in hopes to grasp that the reality instilled is just an omission of sorts. For every being has a glimmer of vitality that pervades within these obscure walls; for how can we see the deception when it’s the perception of how we encounter it all. The enemies we see, the allies we face, for you see; it’s only the heart wrenching reality that we perceive that becomes our glimmer of fate and our desire of life
Sorry within sorrow that radiates an unprecedented trail of remorse that leaves this mark of disdain. As we speak words that echoes no meaning but only the sounds that portray this image we demonstrate. For words now are just figments of truth and perception. Sorry, I’m not sorry; overwhelmed by the actions displayed, as if it were just a play and your the leading role taking the stage. I’m not sorry for how I feel, I’m not sorry for my conceptual semantics. I’m not sorry for feeling I have to say sorry as the difference is I’m not on stage. Many appear to be living in this spotlight, their own little world as we all try to fit in this world leaving an unprecedented trail of remorse yet again and I’m weary of words now as now we hear what we want to hear and sorrow radiates the perception of the real truth.
A man who loves unconditionally, who never judges or scorns. A man who wakes up proud knowing his children are who they are, supporting their decisions regardless of what he deems fit for his love will guide their ways, his life will empower his children with the knowledge and love that will enlighten his children’s eyes. For he is their father,mentor friend for as time goes by his life will reflect his children lives as fatherhood becomes a circle of time….
My father gave me the greatest gift anyone could give another person, he believed in me -Jim Valvano
We couldn’t extinguish the fire so we engulfed it with our sins. Incinerating all that was lost, only to inhale the smoke that suffocated us within.The air drew cold but the flames burned our eyes.We could no longer see around us, only the stench of sin laid upon our burning flesh, as our bodies became more alive. Our temple was doomed underneath the ashes that burned out of control, slaughtered and ravaged, a shattering of all forms. For the temple was the only place we amassed, it was the altar to our defiled and befouled bones,our sanctuary, our beauty, our reality we had. We frolicked along the alter, gave homage to our sins, an adulation of sorts an apotheosis we began.Immortals we were as we taunted fleeting eyes.Our mortality ran short, the carnage of flames raptured our bones, scorched flesh consumed by what was left of the Eden we had made, for only to deluge our sins upon the mortal fools as we danced upon their irrelevant graves…
Love is a smoke and is made with the fume of sighs- William Shakespeare