origami bones

Opening a dance of folded grace

crawling out from under the paper weight

these origami bones can’t stay

creased too long in one place

pressed precisely into position

but the scuffs and bruises of indecision

still mar complex arrangement of limbs

and so I collapse and start over again

n.a.

Last night I was swimming in the sunset, the way it bled into the ocean was like a hug and a kiss together.

n.a.

* tattooed ache *

I feel your heart

inside my own

pulsing

consistently breathing me back

to life

peace fills me

as I melt into your calm

bare

naked, exposed

I am before you

my layers and skin unravel

in ribbons at your feet

unknown worlds cradled in hands

your song tattooed upon my soul

tasting tears, swallowing laughter

loving in ache

you,

you, my love

you are everything

© ScriptedSilence. All rights reserved

* a poet *

loving a poet can bring forth

moments of ultimate euphoria,

as well as pain that you feel 

into the depths of your core

poet is the religion and the muse the deity 

for the muse,

you ache, you  please, you desire

while on bended knee

you break

passion consumes

thoughts overflow into words

beauty and pain are seen deeply through the 

mind’s eye,and even more potent

in the depths of the soul

when a poet loves,

every pulse of the heart will cascade

that love will be made immortal 

by the power of words

flesh touched by ink stained hands

making love by the song in which your love created

the melody of words imprinted upon the heart

the lyrics tattooed upon

every inch, every crevasse of the skin

your love becomes a poem

etched under the layers

the memory lingering

long after both hearts depart

your poem is forever aching

under that fine lining burning through

your veins

a poet has a restless heart

say nothing for hours

and never at complete peace

a continuous search within

never completely satisfied

words overflow onto paper

yet there is never a full understanding settled

the mind races, the heart aches

the soul longs

many emotions are never spoken

yet every truth of thought

flows with fluidity through the ink

loving a poet 

is to live constantly on the edge of darkness

but forever, in the light

of beauty

© ScriptedSilence.  All rights reserved

i was seven years young
the first time i dreamed
of the papillon,
dancing through the garden.

and even now,
i sense the nostalgia those wings bring;
a reminder of a kind of magic
found only there,
amongst the flowers of my mind.

there is no more to do
but sit
wrapped in wool & a good read
palmful of soft blanket,
pulled up to my chin

restful, in the wake of the day
peaceful, in the very best way

magnify the magic you manifest in your mind…

expand your examples so they soar…

let whimsy take you on a whirlwind romance…

and may the shock of it all leave you in awe.

i have a new addiction
to the vices i call ‘medicine’ -
but i promise it’s prescribed

chocolate, for the tears
coffee, for the head
oxytocin, for the heart

and when in need,
take all combined.

Polish my pearl

Deep sea diver

Wet your whistle

Whilst whetting

Synced appetites

Gild the lily

Plucking petals prettily

I’ve taken a shine to you

Making me feel all shimmery

Aglow with the flow

From you to me seamlessly

You see, eye to eye

Mind to mind we connect

My heart thumps faster

At the mere thought of you

My body can’t help but react…

And I’m beyond pleased by that

bits-of-wit:

decaymp3:

decaymp3:

im so srs humans were made for art and friend and food and beddy bye. i mean this

and help each other. humans were made for help each other

random-xpressions:

What if there existed no other language on earth except something deeply symbolic: a handshake, a hug, a kiss. The sheer capacity of the human body to express by itself, be it through the eyes or by the hands is simply amazing. A touch could be more healing than any other medicine discovered till date. And don’t ask me what wonders those lips could do if they were to just widen a bit with a hearty smile, enough to bring all the heavenly bliss. Get your body involved, tongue is not the crown of expression, it’s merely a medium resorted in the last phase. Otherwise, your entire being is more than enough to express beautifully by itself - this body, in which you reside, is the perfect symbolic epitome of what your soul is truly made of…

Random Xpressions

liberalsarecool:

Leave reproductive decisions up to individuals.

jezifster:

Weed should be free in fact you should get paid for smoking it