osho
01-24-2013, 08:41 AM
When I behold a morning sun that peeps in through my mango grove
Your arrival is blazed
When I take a sip of red wine
Your meaty self is tasted
I cry and drink a salted tear –droplet
I feel the kiss of your half-opened lips
In my dreams.
You are in your full
Manifest in your crimsoned chick
My fortitude becomes wobbly
I keep you in my clasp
The weight of my masculine prowess
Crushes you
You utter a pang of pain
I may be roving cloud nine
You sink into me
And your nonexistent boosts my ego
For history has taught me to call you my other half
For the joy in owning is boundless
The sucked-up gets lost, assimilated
This world is lusty
You may decry my chauvinism
The **** is always cocksure
When it swells to have a wild swoop
When amok with a primitive urge
Come! Come!!
Surrender is not the other name of slavery
Or else we would have been stones
Failed legends chronicle seduction and gripe
The truth remains all the more layered
The truth happens
But the interpretation becomes distorted
Seduction is not unnatural
When the end result is rich fertile
When this poet flaps with dry fingers
To compose immortal lines
Across the yard a cat breeds the she-one
This story ends up dryly
The other story begins productively
When you are with me
Time sits on a pair of wings
And space sinks into ourselves
Your arrival is blazed
When I take a sip of red wine
Your meaty self is tasted
I cry and drink a salted tear –droplet
I feel the kiss of your half-opened lips
In my dreams.
You are in your full
Manifest in your crimsoned chick
My fortitude becomes wobbly
I keep you in my clasp
The weight of my masculine prowess
Crushes you
You utter a pang of pain
I may be roving cloud nine
You sink into me
And your nonexistent boosts my ego
For history has taught me to call you my other half
For the joy in owning is boundless
The sucked-up gets lost, assimilated
This world is lusty
You may decry my chauvinism
The **** is always cocksure
When it swells to have a wild swoop
When amok with a primitive urge
Come! Come!!
Surrender is not the other name of slavery
Or else we would have been stones
Failed legends chronicle seduction and gripe
The truth remains all the more layered
The truth happens
But the interpretation becomes distorted
Seduction is not unnatural
When the end result is rich fertile
When this poet flaps with dry fingers
To compose immortal lines
Across the yard a cat breeds the she-one
This story ends up dryly
The other story begins productively
When you are with me
Time sits on a pair of wings
And space sinks into ourselves