Dialogue – “A Critique on Socialism” – Title: “A Man in Love with Death”

Q: To recite what you’ve said: you believe that Socialism is merely Nature’s guidance of the Sapient into death?

A: Not only that, for I believe it to be the proof of God, and the proof of Darwin’s theory.

Q: Would you explain?

A: Darwin speaks of devolution, while a belief in God is a belief in love, and represents the highest ground that a human can gain, in terms of the moral and the ethical. How is this? It is so, because when a human is in love, they believe in God. Inevitably. Such a human believes in eternity. What is the message of God, besides to believe not in an entity, but to believe in eternal life? That is love. To love, is to live life. It is because love makes life eternal, and worth the fight. Darwin’s thoughts on devolution should be proven now as factual, through Socialism, because as a human once believed in God, they grew to believe in work, and truth. What a human lacks in trust with God, they soon believe in truth. From modesty and love, comes the view of the flesh. From the view of the flesh, comes the view of the skeleton, if truth, or flesh, is dug too deeply.

Q: You believe that a human, when not believing in God, will inevitably believe in truth?

A: A human desires evidence, when departing from God, so they will search for it. There is not one thing else in this world that does not decimate love, than dissatisfaction. The continual search for truth, is that dissatisfaction. It breeds dissatisfaction. Love does no more than satisfy.

Q: And for death?

A: Death is a different form of equality. We have current generations, once more, believing in equality. Through, it is through Socialism, that they believe in equality. They don’t believe in love. They believe in power. Such a mention of power is indeed objective, because there is nothing more that solidifies the concealment of love, other than the destruction of life, and that is, the power of death. The “power of death” is opposite to the “power of love” and it is a different and more solid form of comfort. It is an end to an end, while love is an end to a beginning. We believe in abortion. The destruction of life. We believe in pessimism. The destruction of life. We are surrounded by comfort, and due to this, we believe in negativity and drama. These things are our new comfort. And yet, would this planet care at all, when are are extinct? No. It would not, because a home, like any home, as the earth, is abandoned, like the cave to the next cave dweller.

Poem – “To Clip Thy Clothing Free” – Erotica/Romantic

I spit upon, modesty’s shoulders,
And loosen a strap, from where came a blouse,
A shirt, a camisole, of so many varied names,
A top, and it is let free.
For breasts, to be exposed
Beneath undergarments.

Love lies weeping, beneath your blue eyes,
As this magnificence, and joy
Creates thunder in your mind.
My magnificence, as myself,
And the joy, that is you.
I loosen now, the undergarments:

I recite their loss,
As swiftly, as the current wields, thy shape.
“Broken from, a manifested logic,
Blooming outward, from a heart,
Beating with blood, that boils,
All that dies, is love.”

I am now, no longer here, to shield you,
In the private, we are shared,
And I tear away, those undergarments,
Along with a skirt, that was in the way.
Oh, modern vision!
Of a woman, that be comfortable.

Nudity, and my devils,
You are that, as both, nudity and serpent,
I hear your whispers, from a long tongue,
A voice, that comes
From with a heart, bespoken with longing.
As all I see, is a woman, that is bared.

A woman, bared from love,
To be drawn, into lust.
Death, is beneath flesh.
As modesty, encases flesh.
And truth, is molded,
To my shape, and never your own.

Introduction to a New Novel – “Title: My Waters for Her Fortress” – Romantic

Have we felt the urge to swim?

The both of us; in raging currents, have we forced ourselves out of line with a scenario? A dismay. A tragedy. A disorientating vision that has made promise after promise turn to failure. Why, my sweet Eveline, has all become disproportioned?

My pain runs in tides, in the hardest heartbeat that knocks against my chest cavity. I am in love, though I don’t know. I don’t know when the next torment shall begin.

A message to a cross, where I will become crucified; to die for the sins committed on my own, over the mistakes where you’ve played a part; I write this message so that it spells a certain word: Eveline. The word that digs a knife into my heart. I love you, and you have been loved, to the new moon and to its return to a darkness. Nothing else is mattering to this time, besides the extraordinary that shall come with us.

A petal I now place on this letter, this message, so that there is replaced upon it an aroma that reeks of sweetness. Alike to your breath, alike to your cheeks, alike to your skin, that shares a scent like an ocean breeze. I have become the one that will make you a crown, when my own is with thorns, and yours will be ivory and gold, and bluest sapphires and reddest rubies. Those who ever mock us, will meet death. Love has an arrow of abruptness, and I will pierce any who speak against our desires; to be one, when the world is apart.

Poem – “The Fallen House of God” – Romance

Here, we breathe, disaster,
With our voices, set on high,
As death, surrounds us,
And our might, has departed,
To a stranded shore.

I am in love, only with myself,
A blessing, that has made, me wishful,
A curse, that has made, me lonesome.
What have I, turned upon,
Where will I, turn upon,
Next, when dining upon, a victim?
Will I muse, and take turns, with another?

God has thrown, on my shoulders
A burden, of salvation,
And I rejected it.
Its weight, was too heavy.
Its sight, was too sinister.
Its mattering, too bright.
Its feel, too mustered.

With a curse, drawn backwards,
Into, the sin,
Into, my ravaged den,
Where I scream, over the sun,
I felt the need, to find truth.
Where have I, left it?
Back where, it belonged?

Where has this, selfish side, taken me?
If only to see through, a mirror,
And, to see,
Only myself?
It is the demon, that I hide,
And see, so well,
In eyes, where darkness, blinds the light.

Poem – “Your Dark Gaze Upon Our Destiny” – Personal Poem – Romance

Oh, dearest goddess, with goodness in thou!
You are my everything,
And all my supposed failures,
To dance upon your abdomen,
With how you flee at every second,
With how you are far,
With how you also dance with speed,
That matches my own.

I go down to feed on thy mesmerizing
Face of lips and eyes.
I am soon to see
The love that we’ve destined to be.
What have you become,
In my long arms?
My long arms, that keep you near,
And still, you are far.

Oh, beauty!
With all your current tragedies,
Have you seen the horizon?
Have you seen the future?
Have you seen where I mocked,
How we could perhaps never be?
I will dance for eternity,
For this love is for everything.

No death shall teach us to be nothing,
No misery shall ever be our company,
Hope surrounds us,
In every blessing.
Blessed by a magical divinity,
And never to hope for else.
In all what we’ve become,
There is nothing more to reveal.

You are the touch, the fiber, the serpent that I kiss,
A beauty and a flame, a desire and a shame.
I love thee, and you shall become mine,
In all my hours in toil, in all my days in grime.

Poem – “As I Tremble Before You” – Romantic

Your words are my focus,
Glowing, glistening, and romantic,
Each syllable gleams as the furthest moon,
Though, closest to raise the tide.
You are before an altar,
With my fingers laced in your silver.
And your beauty entrances me,
A virgin doused in white,
It’s all so agonizing.

It is, for you have accompanied
My deepest entrails,
And have poured a fear into me.
The one that knows you
By your ever gracious form,
Is there to feed on wine and grace,
Love and thorns, made into twine.
I love thee with all the pleasures
Made into stones.

I raise a glass to thy name,
Praising your features and your might,
The strength you’ve made for me,
The pride you’ve gifted upon me.
The great art of your neck,
Full and long, with pearls surround,
Is there for the deepest kiss,
And the longest stroke,
And your musical sigh to its taste.

What will thou become,
By my love to thy wish,
To be ever eternal on a heated throne,
When you shall become mine?
A beauty and a romance,
A marriage and an eternity,
A truly divine flame,
Will entrance us,
And leave us never wanting.

“Parted Lips” – Poem – Romantic

I fell upon thy parted lips,
And fled among their washed hue,
Never knew, never knew,
The placement of their kind,
That were drawn over a face of mine.
Your parted lips,
Are as my own.

A woman, and a man,
Your beauty, and my insanity,
We’ve both done wrong,
To fall apart, and to be anew.

I am in love only with water,
Because thou does not represent land,
No fertility and no newness.
Only I, as myself, am new.
New beside you, with two parted lips.

Horror Poem – “A Headless Woman” – Erotica

I failed to mention a tiny detail,
The space above your neck
Is lacking.
For proof, I needn’t describe it,
You could not look above,
To see it.
The space that is lacking,
Is only for my witness.

Beauty now resides only on your grace,
As your face, has resulted in the emptiness
No long mattered, no longer around.

Spill upon me the fluid to which belongs
Upon your bosom.
White fluid that would crawl on flesh
That is torn upon my torso.
Would you scream when giving birth?
Or would only silence follow?

Your face is disallowed to exist,
Your mind is no longer present,
Though, I see a body that beats a heart,
Myself moves to take its shape,
Swollen to that of my yearnings.
As thy lips are no longer present
For my kisses.

A disdain and a scent,
A scent of love and lust, gathered to one.
You were beautiful and knowing.
And now, you lack the recognition.
I see only a body
That appears as any other.

A body of devilish desires,
White as Christ’s own cloak,
And with pink lines to mark thy youth.
You were defeated by defeat,
And I have surpassed you.

“The Grove and Ivory Flesh” – Poem – Romantic

I saw beneath lashes, masked by shadow,
The beauty, of unfathomable lust,
She drew a finger, in my direction,
So that I’d lay, beneath ivory flesh.

Never was there, an emotion so exquisite!
As the one laid, upon my heart,
Enough, so that she cared, to comfort,
Its undying beat.

She drew across, three fingers, to her bosom,
So that three orbs, were revealed,
Two breasts,
And one heart.
For I saw among, her feeble form,
The drowning, of that heart,
Among, such melted ivory.

I forgave, the spite I had concealed,
In spite, of knowing, what had been revealed,
I drew a finger, to a breast,
One of them, for the other, she grasped.
I felt with turmoil, in mind,
The disease, to her fragrant hind.

Her bust, and her groin,
That which, laid upon, my own,
She felt loneliness, and grief combined,
And grew patient, all-the-more.

A beauty, and a pain,
That which, danced among mists
That shielded, a grove,
One that fled, in currents and doves,
One that shouted, to the moon,
“Do not, let me go,
Among the fires, and the ebony!”

And I disobeyed, her plea,
For it rang, too heavily.

A Tri-Collection of Poetry – “Poetry of Love, Love, and Love!”

Poem #1

A Marvelous Waiting Game

Of eye and iris, combined,
I combed the earth, to then find, those pair,
Dipped in honeydew, and nectar alike,
Stark against pallid skin, and reddened cheeks,
As thy making, were by God’s artisans.

Your eyes, and the cries, you emit,
By the graces, of angels,
By the disgrace, of my fallen empire,
By the dismay, to my withered pride,
You are still, the only love.

A beauty, with bleakness, to tress,
And red, to lips,
A beauty with eyes, that fall in the idleness, of waking,
A beauty with no equal, unmatched, by makers, of newness,
For the eyes, that I behold, are a waiting game.

I look upon them, with a face, so stern,
I look, with the entrancement,
The enticement, the amiable nature, of my mind,
To be pleasant, in sight of a one,
The nurtured one, the rose, in the garden.

You have never been, the disappointment,
And, I never faulted you, for any failure.

A beauty, with eyes that wait, as I wait,
For a death, that would make our love, finally resting.

Poem #2

The Dismay of Thy Gleaming Back

Upon a day, when the moon, rose to stay,
And look upon us, with fervent fervor,
I saw behind, that dress, that covered thou,
A white back, that gleamed, beneath the silver.

A tempting look, in your eye,
You had a back, that gleamed, beneath the silver,
With a coat of sheen, that grew to bloom
In the radiance, of an early afternoon.

The dress, that covered thou,
Is of lace, embroidered, in a streaming silk,
Each strand, is weaved to perfection,
To shield, a body for God.

Would you, open your mouth,
To receive, a tongue?
A tongue to lash, your swollen cheeks?
You are marvelous, when you would grieve.

You are as mighty, as all beauty
When thwarted, by sensuality.
It is because, I am
The blessing, of a simple fruit,
And the admirer, of resplendence.

A beauty, that you are,
With a sheen, to a back,
All white against, the dress, that is black,
And a face, that shows, rosy cheeks, alack,
For thou, hast turned from me!

A back, a back, and a back,
Your face, not ever known.

Poem #3

A Lover’s Wine and Nectar

Death divides, my purpose,
Love had made, it wine,
Your lilies, when worn, on crown, so high,
Drew to knew, the nectar, from, the sigh.
As when God, bent his knee,
Your loving God, had bent, his knee.
And I gave a ring, to thy finger,
So that thou, would accompany me.

You are not devilish, on my barren lands,
You, with your ivory face, and porcelain cheeks,
A heart of ruby, though wrapped, in thorns.

A quake hurls, my empathy across,
A child pules, to the breast, and its emptiness.
I gave my platter, for the servant, to witness,
A mighty feast, on thy lips, of cherry.

Your beauty, and your fossilized form,
Were many, in the hues and shades,
I still allowed, a treat to be consumed,
Of perked lips, and even raven tress.

Lovely, when thou, would accompany me,
On the serpentine roadway, to my dwelling,
For thy frailty, is next to loathing,
At the pity, and scorn, of my promise.

Poem – “The Failures of Children” – Romantic

They, who crawled, naked, in grief,
Were beside the forests, in failing sleep.
Sinister shadows, were their playmates,
Begging unto God, for piety’s absence.

I slew, their lives, in amass,
Emptied their reflections, in glass.
For she, who called me abroad,
To taste the banquet, of my dreams.

She was, to the sinister playthings,
A toy, to behold, for their musings.
I sold, a love, for a lonely hour,
Folded plenty, the songs of shame.

Her music, which lifted, my fire,
Drew blood, into my desire.
I gave up, the world, for the stars,
Knew the beginning, for the almighty end.

She waved, a gentle hand, to me near,
Caused the tears, to erupt, in unquiet fear.
I singled out the prey, one by one,
Not for God, but for Heaven’s wrath.

For a beauty, to be in my name,
Is to me, a release of shame.
I gave the clinging, to her undying folds,
Of a dress, where children, threw their tears.

Poem – “Her Skin Among the Embers” – Romantic

Your rarity, on thine loving lips,
Lay kisses, upon where I sit,
Go crawl in misery, on death ships,
Bask in embers, of fires lit.
I would watch, those hands, cover tears,
To imitate, a sleeping body,
You could face, the dawn as night,
Sink under trauma, of the years,
But searing embers, raise the study,
Of lifeless voids, piercing blight.

For the embers, awoke my sense,
Tears slide, off a pale cheek,
The want of joy, is my defense,
Those eyes, of sadness speak.
I have written volumes, in your name,
Scorn is drowning, your tongue,
Misery’s grief, are those words,
In each tress is mournful shame,
Robes of priests, you are clung,
Wrath for children, grief affords.