Poetry Of A Rake

[DaveyFresh"]

A man whom feels, his hands are cold not with death, but sprung wih love. As a toil, his breaths have fainted and returned. He can dream the endless sights of love, but what a sight it would be if it where to be retained, thus not abrubtly conquered.

I am not your teacher, I have but simple thoughts. Any a man whom could stand looking the quiet gaze amidst my eyes shall know at the first sound of a faint whisper, that though I am of simple thoughts, I am not of a simple love.

A love that could hold the heart, and make it beat as every second before it has never burned a second.

[DaveyFresh"]

No dear man could ever be sorry to have been honest for nothing, that it is the common and the understood, that habits shall entice to mold thy character. Endure the hammer casted by persistance, it shall slab you fine strokes of churned and hummed metal, thus the worksmanship shall forever pass the material.

A word can lie, as a tear can hold significance in proportioned spaces of the realms of a feinding mans mind, as all can corrupt when ones mind is prone to such evils. Such evils as fear mocking the breaths you so vehemently defend with utter grandour, fear by association shall turn to lesson its angry hold upon you.

Happiness only gifted from a realm of clouds spat by the endless, those whom could love as a fire burning across dried arrid lands, never more true could a man be the more courageous in the defense of his love, thus though the man beckon the sword, the chains which hurt the mind shall unfold once the worry has been discarded once and for all.

As the voyage claims the wet strokes down the painted lovely faces of such a lovely lot of wives, upon this day may I indeed declare, that a mans love is better to be dragged far off to distant lands, as men are with themselves for a longer affliction, the more this eternal love becomes the more acquainted hereafter.

And any whom shall claim the soft beneath my breast let me commend your words, but know that integrity has never been worth as much, when a man parts with everything simply to keep it. What has always never rested has hence never endured.

Do you see the words I have laid across this print for you to rummage with dirty fingers a slight pick, that in all things denied to the human sight, these things have always been revealed to the eyes upon are soul, and my soul seeks love, and hence what was once impulse, instinct, has become all the more to shape upon reason.

Often many women long for that which eludes there flair, and not what is offored to them. Though it true to be annoying to be honest for no purpose, there has never been a moment where a lie couldn't quell a love that could otherwise have lasted eternally.

[DaveyFresh"]

I know that I have lived because I have felt, and, feeling giving me the knowledge of my existence, I know likewise that I shall exist no more when I shall have ceased to feel. And though one day as the ash I shall indeed cease to feel, by allow me my simple ways, allow me to remember my peasures, to renew and rejoice amongst fires that couldn't topple stones along windy, dirt sodded roads.

My success and my misfortunes, the bright and the dark days I have gone through, everything has proved to me that in this world, either physical or moral, good comes out of evil just as well as evil comes out of good. And knowing that both come from one another, I know that to love, holds to hate, as hate to love. This we must know, that we are both the things, amongst the same strain of that moment.

Real love is the love that sometimes arises after sensual pleasure: if it does, it is immortal; the other kind inevitably goes stale, for it lies in mere fantasy. I declare, my love is not a fantasy, but just the epithany.

The man who has sufficient power over himself to wait until his nature has recovered its even balance is the truly wise man, but such beings are seldom met.

[DaveyFresh"]

Say if I move, shall the tender tear trickle its mourning dew down such a cheek? How during the darkest and coldest nights, the flicker of candles dimming hallways, the dark faces of men whom contemplate in the restless eve of battle. You cry your tender tears of longing against me, and though so far. . I can hear your sorrows amongst the wind.

Could my hardened hands take those tears from your eyes, so many a cold lonely night where you there holding me amongst my dreams, and I remember the sweet tastes of your kiss laid upon my lips. The thought of your love has served me in these battles, I am cold but not of death, for death couldn't take the embers which care deepest for you in these warring nights.

Though I may be struck down, know that I have given all of me which is the softest, I have allowed you to beat my heart and flow my viens, and if you commend me so my love, I shall be the bleed for which you ask me to show amongst my cuts indeed I bleed red, but even more I bleed as a man, a man whom strides the war, but wishes nothing more then to lay my worn sword amongst the hay, and return to my love as I have seen all these restless moments.

[larrygregory]

Be my love, a Rose with no thorns but my life is full of misery still i would make you feel like A rose without its thorns and the stone without its hardness, i would protect you with shadow of love every time you be with me.....

I hope this small effort of mine would help you in your poetry.

[DaveyFresh"]

"Rise as the sun, the fire of the ember upon the planet bringing fourth life, and watch as the silent rains fall, and allow ones heart quiet contemplation.

Bring me to where I will never tire, to where there are those whom never hunger, bring me upon life, allow me in and let me know my own love. We are but kings and pawns of men, and so do I declare that I may dictate the difference.

What was once a cold disdain in life, has become the rising suns warmth in my chest, allow me to out strech my hands, to grab your tender body. I shall never know the feeling to conquer you, but I will know the reason to retain you.

I must at last let my very anger and ego alone, I know them not as enemies but as a allie and knowing myself has always been the difference between rising and falling as the sun does.

I apreciate any contributions and thank you for taking the time to input

[DaveyFresh"]

Who but these old men, say that the way to are soul beset from dusk fallen eyes. No matter how pretty a smile you may bring, or the painted beauty upon your face, do you not know that I know the depths of dark as you do, as clear as any day I see the spurned trail of which tears have silently eroded lines along your cheek.

I see your sadness and your loss, your faded dreams, your dead and dying relationships, I see the sorrow resting upon a once dreaming girl, begging to be clutched from behind with the love of strong arms of which she so adamantly deserves, to be cherished, and to never need a second of thought to worry.

Often what most men claim is love, but there is always often great sadness to beauty, as a rose shall always have its thorns. And so to do I say, that I hide as any great pain as you so cleverly disguise with your passion soaked eyes, and the smooth sail down depths of such young skin. I see the cold within your heart, it beats but with a faint breath, but I know only because this very cold, hath it shuddered my heart as a stone sinking amongst waves.

Through disdain, and the peril of allowing ones own demons there wraith, the escape of such drugs as any to take you from this place, do you not see even one person has words for you.

I say that no matter what great pain any woman shall hide with a smile, that no matter how lifeless, and cold she has become. I care for her with a true beating heart, one that has known much hate, but has learned to love even greater!

_______________-- PLEASE COMMENT --___________________

[DaveyFresh"]

Close but your eyes, and close nothing but your empty hands. Allow the words form within the depths of a quited mind, pray that today take me where the hungry never need starve, the tired may but sleep. Wash me from my sins and purge relentless fires scorching upon my very body, as a distant shore may I need only but the breif chance to watch the sun close, and as the moon arises.

That to know hate, one must know his love. He must not fear of what cannot be undone, and shall show of what can be done. For a man cannot be measured on simply the moves of his lifes actions, that within mind there are thoughts, there are the memories of things that have burned and grown stale, renue and begin again, to allow the spear of your words to tip every person among there very ways.

[Prof.Diorry]

Yall not serious this is so lame not to mention time comsuming women dont give a fuck about poetry anymore were not in the 16th century further more you are setting the frame for Romance and Love not Lust which is the point of Seduction but I could be wrong to each is his own

[DaveyFresh"]

What happens upon the tree, hollowed by the ages of a unsettling times, as the brownish hint of its decaying bark glides the air as it chips from such old bones. It stands as vigil, a beacon upon the people who walk amongst it daily in and out, and yet no man hath even but a moment to simply stop and admire what has filled lungs all its solely alone life.

I feel as this tree does, as hollow along my linings and as deep a groove as I wish it weren't, I cannot control and therefore I am unknown with quiet mind, all I may possibly do is but hope that someone will hear my voice, the faint crys as my lungs collapse, as the drops keeping a beating heart slowly grind to sand, and thus simply dust away as though they hath never even existed within these moments.

I have wrong so many along this road, and though I know of my actions before I had even considered the reflections against me, I commited with great sin towards my own soul, with a greivous anguish I continued the path, and hath always ignore the revelant truths that were so adamantly within my view.

I simply ask forgiveness