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 AUTHOR
 cesska
Joined: 11/7/2011
Msg: 2083
view profile
History
Tears made of Blood IIPage 31 of 91    (17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57)
oh naïve
how lucky you were to have known such love.
C.
 NaiveAndWitty
Joined: 1/23/2010
Msg: 2084
Tears made of Blood II
Posted: 12/7/2013 4:47:31 PM
Thank you cesska, but love is a vehicle of interpretation. It is thus what we make of it. Nevertheless, she is dear to my heart.
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Temporal Love

It’s the color of majesty, traipsing through our psyches. What have
We done to win love. We have walked through shadows, and leaped
Through dimensions. And still, our mirror is a magician,
Reflecting our imagination. But our love is poetry, even the
Breadth of art. Thus, find me musing upon mystery, entrenched
In speculation, vulnerable to the touch of, my love. Our unborn
Child speaks to our dreams, eager to live through our stream.
And nature has flourished in honor of our union—we are the depth
Of invisibility. I knew she was gold when the sun set still in the
Horizon. She’s a magnet in my soul, a river in my spirit, and a star
In my psyche. I stare, engulfed in visions, falling into a daze. Our
Love is exemplary, fraught with the touch of new birth. If only
Life was eternal, we could love eternal, but death is a marksman,
Haunting the spirit. Thus, let love intoxicate our loins, for we
Are destined to perish, despite our majesty, despite our dreams.
 NaiveAndWitty
Joined: 1/23/2010
Msg: 2085
Tears made of Blood II
Posted: 12/9/2013 1:42:09 PM
Temporal Love II

Our child, dwelling within our imagination, a symbol of
Eternity, even a circuit within our dreams. Smile, my
Love, let not the sadness forge a vision. Let the
Discoloration foster wisdom, else we perish a thousand
Deaths. It’s in your eyes my love: a dark cloud infused
By beauty, submerged in sparks of divinity. But the tears
Would fall from heaven’s stream, piercing my soul,
Drenching my psyche. But we are miracles, my love.
Through death we blossomed, suffused in particles of
Light. Thus, what have we earned, my love? The spirit is
Our fountain, an effusion within a fortress of scars. We
Were designed to flourish—to scrape the skies. Our
Wounds, symbolic, inspiring a nation. It was always
Our place to perish, to live, to strive for immortality.
 NaiveAndWitty
Joined: 1/23/2010
Msg: 2086
Tears made of Blood II
Posted: 12/10/2013 12:07:50 PM
The Pulse of Death

It’s always been our place to perish, despite our religion.
Thus immortality is a spirit, teasing our psyches,
Permeating our dreams. But through love we sprout
Wings, soaring through the exospheres. My wounded
Love, our lock is transcendent, thus, we live eternal
Within a world of impermanence. Oh my soul, soaked
In unutterable waves; and my Paradise has become my
Sore. My wounded love, my panic, my poison, my ache,
In death I vow to love. Thus, why are my palms wet
With tears? Trepidation has seized a weary soul. Death
Has become a mirror, both personal and intimate. But
My love, ours is captured in scrolls. Let us live that we
May perish with pride. Dwell not within the crucible
Of thoughts, my ache, my dreams, my visions.
 NaiveAndWitty
Joined: 1/23/2010
Msg: 2087
Tears made of Blood II
Posted: 12/11/2013 11:42:15 AM
Love’s Paradox

What’s the path, my love?—for ours is the calligraphy of
Spirit. Thus, through love we taste the essence of
Immortality. But tears have become a puddle. The thicket
Is insufferable. And joy has never felt so effulgent. It’s
The paradox of love—the texture of confusion. My love,
The garden is filled with dreams, and we have walked the
Axis of visions, edging the precipice of despair. But your
Smile, as radiant as sunbeams, permeating the universe.
Our contradiction is a cosmic fable, where lovers both fall
And rise simultaneously. It digs into the psyche, a godly
Seesaw, the pendulum of mystery. And it infuses the soul
With the inexplicable. Upon a whetstone passions are
Exhausted. It’s the majesty of birth, royalty, and life. It’s
Beyond measure, churning the stomach unto explosion.
 NaiveAndWitty
Joined: 1/23/2010
Msg: 2088
Despite Intentions
Posted: 12/11/2013 10:05:23 PM
Despite Intentions

My soul is printed with spiritual paws. My infatuation
Is a mystery ever present in my person. I see her,
Drifting through mystic streams, tiptoeing upon magic.
The carpet is esoteric. Thus, we walk the length of
Invisibility. My teary eyed enchantress, the moon is
Singing in silence. And here are the wings of a
Ladybug: wish upon a miracle, my love. There’s a
Museum in the forest of my soul, your portrait reigns
Therein. You’re a rare pearl, edging the plank of
Existence. I’m whet to dance at the masquerade, for the
Mask has become a fortress. What’s the provision, my
Love?—for I long to infuse the spirit. But scars have
Become castles in the sky, rupturing innocence. And
Sacred dreams have become blighted fields.
 NaiveAndWitty
Joined: 1/23/2010
Msg: 2089
Despite Intentions
Posted: 12/12/2013 12:06:17 PM
Love’s Paradox II

Morning dew has glazed my emotions. I’m intoxicated with
Afflatus. She has infused my psyche unto panic and fear, for
Her beauty is majestic, causing the soul to ache in sorrow.
I love, divided in spirit, falling upon the cobblestones of
Christ. My agony is an ancient motif, shades of confliction,
An antique paradox. Someone awaken my logic. I’m smitten
With uncertainty, kneeling at the altar, making supplication
To love. This intensity is the texture of misery, but oh what I
Would give to nurture sadness. Such contradiction is the essence
Of reality, the call of Spirit, where even Logos wept. Thus my
Soul is knotted, writhing in ambiguity. But I adore the emotion
Of vagueness. It’s the splendor of Immaculate Conception,
The glory of a still small voice, and the touch of prophecy.
It’s the valley of faith, where worship is a vibrant pulsation.
 NaiveAndWitty
Joined: 1/23/2010
Msg: 2090
Despite Intentions
Posted: 12/14/2013 3:39:28 PM
Beloved

You’re both my passion and my nightmare. You’re my
Paradox, my shattered vase, longing in desperation.
Upon a woodblock, I have carved your inscription, and
Placed it within my memoirs. I’m overtaken by this maze
Of infection. And you languish within my soul,
Gnawing upon my composure. Thus, within the margins, I
Compose to my sorrow, alive, if only to perish in my
Identity. Seismic rapture drowns me within a whirlpool
Of visions, where I’m hopeful, filled with naivety. And
I’m rhapsodic in my misery, enlove with my poison,
Kneeling to the depth of my affliction. I’m frantic to
Touch emotion, to penetrate the veil of Spirit, if only to
Extract this splinter. And you dwell nearest to my
Heartbeat, knifing my spirit, musing upon love letters.
 NaiveAndWitty
Joined: 1/23/2010
Msg: 2091
Despite Intentions
Posted: 12/15/2013 2:03:31 PM
Love III

Oh the splendor of love, despite its reciprocation. It moves
The soul, a sacred inspiration, an infusion of grace. Love
Has resurrected emotion, and multicolored intensities.
Awaken my love. Our axis has become a seesaw, a flaming
Paradox, wherefore the pendulum takes precedence. But
Paradise is a breath away, notwithstanding the crucifix.
Love fathoms itself, a living riddle, a war within the loins
Of humanity. It’s the ultimate artist, a transformative force,
The cornerstone of wisdom. Love is the infusion of dreams,
The substance of hope, even a dance with faith. It electrifies
The soul, unto heartache and sorrow, often dragging one into
The dungeons of hell. Love is an untimely quiz, questioning
The mirror’s reflection, compelling the soul to truths. If
Love was simplicity, the spirit wouldn’t swell with tears.
 NaiveAndWitty
Joined: 1/23/2010
Msg: 2092
Despite Intentions
Posted: 12/16/2013 4:31:37 PM
Particles of Insanity

It was infection, my love—forgive my ignorance. Particles of
Insanity seized my psyche—thus I was under the Influence
Of madness. Something as colorful as psychoses, the art of
Lunacy, compelled the penmanship of my spirit. I was lost in
A maze of passions, a refugee from the clarity of perception.
But truth was ever with-the-ink of my stupidity. Thus, the
Vehicle of illusion gave birth to a sacred stream. Love, in its
Multicolor-ful dimensions awakened my shattered soul.
Wherefore, I’m captive of a paradox, lost in expression, and
Nothing can free me, my love. And dare I confess, I’m a
Participant in my misery, enlove with the agitation of
Mystery, notwithstanding the portrait of screams. Thus, I
Dance freely upon the symbols of love, desperate to capture
Its essence, if only in a dream. Forgive me, my love.
 NaiveAndWitty
Joined: 1/23/2010
Msg: 2093
Despite Intentions
Posted: 12/17/2013 1:28:28 PM
Nonplus Entity II

My laudable affliction. My barefaced mystery. I’ve died,
Only to resurrect in your freshet. Mystic vibrations are
Mizzling within the spirit. Love has saturated the soul—
My promiscuous confliction. Why so near and yet so far?
And such symmetry the touch of imbalance, the
Absorption of my soul. You sparkle within my heart,
Such as a wet-dream. But I’m filled with fatigue,
Attempting to glimpse your image. Such as the face of
God, my love is pictureless. And still, I make haste to climb
Mount Sinai. Thus, illumination plagues my visions, but
Love remains my tug-of-war. And I anticipate afflatus,
Besprinkling my mind with thoughts. Such intricacies
Intoxicate my being, wherefore I long for physicality.
But I’m subject to fancy, picketing the design of love.
 NaiveAndWitty
Joined: 1/23/2010
Msg: 2094
Despite Intentions
Posted: 12/18/2013 11:56:36 AM
No one can outwit Love

Not even a tactician, my love! No one can outwit love. It’s the
Stratagem of paradox, dragging the soul through flame. It’s
An untouchable force, veiled in the affairs of humanity. Thus,
We love in part, afraid of the stature of love. But such as love
Streams through the universe. Thus, open, my love. Feel the
Depth of dance, theory, and prose. Live the poetry. Whereby
Love infuses the psyche, captured in visions. My dreams, my
Love! They web me to infatuation. Thus, I muse upon
Gentility, an image magnified in sonnets. But nothing reveals
The depth of magnificence. And I’ve praised beyond the scope
Of reception. But love is a passion, my life, tattooed to
Introspection. Thus, my portfolio is crammed with love letters.
And my soul is swollen with emotion. Hence, composition is
Liberty, where the dam explodes, outwitted by love.
 NaiveAndWitty
Joined: 1/23/2010
Msg: 2095
Despite Intentions
Posted: 12/19/2013 11:25:28 AM
Frightened of Vulnerability

Within a thousand winks, came the panic of emotion. She awoke,
Screaming. Fear was suffocating her lungs. Tears fell from her
Eyes. Finally, her voice returned. But darkness, its texture, it’s
Allure, it seized her passions. She would leap—and devastate a
Sacred heart. He pleaded. But death grew limbs. Frantically,
She closed the sky. Thus, his dreams gave up the ghost. She
Rocked gently, afraid of the love that was rising in her person.
She was desperate to escape herself. But a mirror had settled
Within her psyche. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
It was her knight—the soul she slew. She was hesitant to
Answer, but her intensities betrayed her reason. He fell to the
Carpet, soaked in sweat, grappling for her legs. She begged him
To forsake love, but her voice was broken. Thus she pulled him to
Her bosom. Their lips, the breath of life, gave birth to passion.
 NaiveAndWitty
Joined: 1/23/2010
Msg: 2096
Despite Intentions
Posted: 12/19/2013 3:33:48 PM
Dear Sonnet II

Your rhythm is epic—divine in its texture. I’m enthralled,
Tiptoeing upon the symbols of an opus. I’m enchanted, filled
With the mystery of contradiction. A trumpet is blaring
Within my being. It’s the sickness of infatuation, streaming
Within the freshet of my psyche. I’m intoxicated with
Ambition. Every sentence is a metrical feast. Thus, the ghost
Is chiseling portraits upon the concaves of my soul. And my
Emotions are overcast with color—so bright, and so brilliant.
Burnish me, my love; polish my prose, unto the heartache of
Joy; stitch your emblem upon the fleece of my soul. I’m open
To the magic of mystic passions, kneeling upon the portico of
Your temple. My pious, melancholic rapture, baptize me in
Your glory; awaken my sensibilities; infuse me with your
Cadence; for poetry is my coquette, my sublime misery.
 NaiveAndWitty
Joined: 1/23/2010
Msg: 2097
Despite Intentions
Posted: 12/22/2013 5:05:47 PM
My Dearest Afflatus II

My atoms, my love, saturated with the flame of passion.
I’m touched. And nothing can soothe indelibility. Thus I
Muse incessantly. And my love, the shadow of pain, a
Landmark within the Spirit. Such affection, burning into
The pavement. And twilight, the depth of my paradox,
For I love unto bliss and melancholy. Thus, my soul, slammed
Upon a whetstone, afflicted unto serenity. Wherefore an
Effusion surges through my fingertips. I’m alive unto the
Welts of my spirit. And my love, cadence of my prose,
A miracle deigning in the spirit. Whereby infusion sparks
An earthquake. I’m active in my mystery, touching particles
Of light, dying in my resurrection. And the dictum, my love,
Is mystic. Wherefore reality is melting, and time has become
A blur. And everything reminds me of you.
 NaiveAndWitty
Joined: 1/23/2010
Msg: 2098
Rumination
Posted: 12/24/2013 10:49:33 AM
Rumination

Such as a windfall, love enchanted this flaming fantast. Dolor
Evaporated. A manikin came to life. And the sublime took the
Form of a statuesque queen. My soul, a prism of particles,
Infused with illumination. The alchemy of passion soared
Through my being. My love, a fervent magnet, unto a stream
Of mystery. But a daydream became the fission of fables.
Love was wanting, a paradigm of fools, falling fast. Thus, we
Loved, our last taste of agony, unto a turquoise sky. And still,
I muse upon a halo, the nectar of Divinity, as tender as the
Caress of God. Whereby I’m transported, unto a dimension of
Poetry, where I compose of a picturesque jewel. Thus, an
Unphysical presence permeates my soul. It’s the essence of
Love, a mystic rapture, triggered by rumination. Wherefore,
I’m awestruck, filled with splendor, unto purple clouds.
 NaiveAndWitty
Joined: 1/23/2010
Msg: 2099
Rumination
Posted: 12/24/2013 9:07:33 PM
The Touch of Anguish

I died, a ghostly texture, abandoned in my soul. The hurt was
Excruciating. I lost breath, afire, a slave of sorrow. But I
Dared to touch an angel, if only to exhale. And albeit my
Turmoil, thick as molasses, I sheltered prayer, the blood of
My cross. I was unborn, a specter in my spirit, trekking
Through the desert-city. My soul, thrust with poison, the
Steepness of my scar. Wherefore, I nurtured anguish, filled
With death, alive in my misery. Something akin to malaise,
Punctured my psyche, but I dared to touch a seraph. Thus
Ripples tore through my being, the texture of thorns. And my
Eyes, swollen with pride, the tears of my splintered glory.
Wherefore, dejection was deeply praised, my melancholic joy.
But hope was sublime in my nature, wistful in its magnitude.
Wherefore my soul, athirst for resurrection, soaked in anguish.
 NaiveAndWitty
Joined: 1/23/2010
Msg: 2100
Rumination
Posted: 1/1/2014 2:21:44 PM
Paradox, Love & Pain

Saintly ambrosia. My salient panic. Anxiety fills the lungs.
I love you, stipple of my soul. Thus, I savor such essence.
Indeed, my serene confliction—idol of my stumbling spirit—I
Dare seduce resistance. For rendezvous, promise of flame, my
Blatant affliction. Wherefore, depth the cave, graven with
Portraits. And only God, source of resilience, storm of the soul.
Whereby love, as faceless as Spirit, touch of a burning glance.
Thus sullen with joy, the ache of paradox, I enter paradise. And
Tears, the fall of glory, as indelible as ink. Wherefore emotion,
Acidic, such poison. For my love, prison of the goddess,
Inflicted with injustice. And mercy, a taste of heaven, as distant
As the sun. Thus believe, and die in fragments, my saintly
Anguish. Wherefore doubt, a fluid stream, the zeal of life. But
Faith, the soul’s claim, miracle of the spirit.
 NaiveAndWitty
Joined: 1/23/2010
Msg: 2101
Rumination
Posted: 1/2/2014 3:06:17 PM
The Wounds of Love

I totter, my love—inflicted by such affection. For you dare to
Paint the future. Thus needled within, I flit and soar, alive in
My darkest anguish. How shall I measure immortal love—as
Tangible as the faceless? Thus I perish aflame, aware of my
Deficit. And death, the sweetest resurrection. Wherefore
Life, portrait of dreams, a flaming illusion. But oh the joy of
Such inflection. It seeps beneath the marrow, revving the
Soul. Whereby captured, webbed in trepidation, I float, aloft
A stream. And my love, aglow with pain, filled with joy.
Thus love, as radiant as sunlight, etching both soul and spirit.
Wherefore the heart, torn asunder, a puddle of tears. But
Such is the lot of faith. Whereby belief, a raging torch, a
Moving paradox. Thus we shimmer in anguish, unto the
Final trumpet. And we love unto the death of our Lord.
 NaiveAndWitty
Joined: 1/23/2010
Msg: 2102
Rumination
Posted: 1/4/2014 4:44:57 PM
Sheer Bliss

Let’s make a covenant: let’s vow unto death, our sacred stream.
For indigo has flooded the skies, in honor of our debut. Thus
Unveil; present to soul the treasures of God. Else cloven and
Unsteady, my broken spirit. For the ambience is the essence of
Love. Wherefore we dine upon axioms, such candor, a kiss.
And the catalyst, divine in its touch. Whereby credence, a web
Of passion, rapport of lovers. Thus my love, texture of gold, we
Perish to live, alive, unto oceanic flames. Wherefore immortal,
Our dance, as gallant as nobility. And we dare to fly, mystic in
Our rapture. Whereby the sublime, a manifest vision, surging
Through our veins. Thus dolor, the depth of love, fantastic in its
Essence. And such nectar, alive in our souls, unto vibrant
Addiction. Wherefore satiated, such tender amore, our sacred
Blessing. Hence an inrush of rhapsody, unto sheer bliss.
 NaiveAndWitty
Joined: 1/23/2010
Msg: 2103
Rumination
Posted: 1/9/2014 9:07:45 PM
Dear Mystic Amore

I die to love you. Thus the trestle of my soul is anguish. But
I’m deafly enamored, unto rhapsodic flame. Wherefore
Symbol is love, and flight is death. Thus embattled, I soar
The abyss, unto glowing insanity. Whereby a freshet,
Storming the seas, unto an untamed dynasty. But illusion,
A dreary affliction, unto a dying emotion. Wherefore a
Solemn fall, unto the chambers of light; and there you stand,
My life, my death. Thus adrift, we love eternal: this life but a
Myth. And horizon, the touch of fable, my soul-felt dream.
Thus love, as sacred as gold, the reverie of passions. Whereby
A glance, infuses the spirit, despite the daunt of reality.
Wherefore song, dusky and aloof, unto a shattered vision.
But affected, I yearn to dance—within the arms of my love.
Thus reality, a touch of fiction, unto the phantom of pain.
 NaiveAndWitty
Joined: 1/23/2010
Msg: 2104
Rumination
Posted: 1/10/2014 9:30:58 PM
My Mystic Love

From iambs to prose, my mystic love. And passion, the motif of
God. Thus this firewood, aflame my gravid soul. For the psyche,
Adrift a heartbeat. Wherefore imperfect love, irrigate the soul of
Christ. Whereby hope, a touch of perfection, unto ghostly
Tremors. Thus my precious joy, affections remain untamed. But
Melody soothes the soul, our dance, enchant of the stars.
Wherefore apace, my love, embrace this flaming fantast. Else I
Perish, the fall of hell, unto a burning sword. And heaven, a vivid
Pulsation, captured in visions. Thus alive, a web of spells, enlove
Beyond measure. Wherefore this fane, a sacred flame, unto a
Brilliant agenda. Whereby proud, despite affliction, unto fervent
Motion. Thus ours, a mystic screen, fraught with colors. And
Rhythm, a cosmic cadence, unto the glint of Spirit; in which a
Spark sprouted into a shelter. Thus we live the love of immortality.
 NaiveAndWitty
Joined: 1/23/2010
Msg: 2105
Rumination
Posted: 1/11/2014 5:05:06 PM
Abscond not with my Soul

Abscond not with my soul. But abate intensity, my Swan. For
Ardent, this flame, to elicit love. Every facet of my being,
Drunk with rapture. Thus my genteel muse, enflame my
Beating heart. Indeed this joy, my solemn affliction.
Wherefore tension, my flaming spirit, unto cosmic friction.
It’s a raging light, as bright as infinity. Thus motion, infuses
The soul, unto the maestro of flare. Whereby the spirit soars,
Adrift the ache of flame. And my love, texture of a tale, unto
Psychic lust. Wherefore aglow, fraught with visions, afire,
My soul. But my love, a wounded Swan, distant unto
Heartache. Thus our strata, infected with poison; in which
Our stream, as sublime as spirit. Whereby we dance, aflame
A flux. Wherefore the future, a portrait of pain; but our
Eyes, as opalescent as heaven; thus we love eternal.
 NaiveAndWitty
Joined: 1/23/2010
Msg: 2106
Wash the soul in Love
Posted: 1/15/2014 5:54:19 PM
Wash the soul in Love

Wash the soul in love, my psychic amore. Else the ghost edge
The grave. For graven upon caves, our immortal flame. And
Death, our skyward dance. Thus nurse infinity, my diamond
Eyes. Wherefore the freshet, a sacred pulse, alive the soul.
Whereby the heart, an open vessel; and the spirit, a song of
Roses. Whereby love, a raging orchestra; in which magic, a
Mortal fragrance. Thus depth the soul, a life of dreams, unto
Mystic love. And I dare to set sail, unto immortal pixels. For
My love, a temple thief, adrift the spirit. Wherefore partial,
Aloft the seas, tiptoeing waves. Thus the future, sated with
Visions, unto a burning storm. Wherefore my love, badge of
My heart, I vow eternity. Such a gesture, the battle of stars, if
Only to touch love. Whereby essence, a musical torch, unto
Song and dance. Thus we climb, unto symbolic joy, my love.
 NaiveAndWitty
Joined: 1/23/2010
Msg: 2107
Wash the soul in Love
Posted: 1/19/2014 7:50:03 PM
Airborne

Ponder vibration, for I’m knotted aflame. This passion, a silent
Miracle; for the sea, the deepness of my psyche; and the stars,
Reach of my ardent spirit. Thus adrift, this penchant flame,
Unto clear diamonds. Wherefore tremors, thunder ablaze, unto
My wounded soul. But sheer splendor, the depth of emotion,
To part my aching heart. Whereby the earth, as colorful as
Heaven, and sensation, as vibrant as baptism. Thus the ghost,
A golden infusion, unto emerald dreams. And evermore, this
Flaming joy, unto rapture and sorrow. Wherefore paradox, the
Width of love, a touch of magic. And such nearness, the pace of
Distance, unto salvation. Whereby the flux, a taste of spirit, unto
Sheer ecstasy. Thus sanctity, the pulse of anguish, aflame my
Splintered soul. But consumed, unto riddled joy, pining for
Mercy. Wherefore possessed, unto spasms and divisions.
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