Saturday, January 28, 2017

this is a gift


On the nights of heat
The men and women will ride
Up to the North or down to the South
On the cascading rides full of screams
Splashing it down the slippery slope
Going deep into the pits

The night watchers will pimp
They hope to catch the waywards on heat
They don't believe they do it wrong
They think they are the saints
Without the screaming organs and hollows
It will be a sad, sad, crushing blow

The drumbeats of the bridges
The water flow deep sweeping in anticipation
The broken sticks; the shortest poles, the thundercats
The wind of whisper the brushing of ecstacy flow
The echo of the bridges reaping its rewards
Spoil by the nightwatchers cracking its whip

Yet the nights of heat
It will filter through codes and means
The games of hide and seek flourish
Even angels fall for the passion
Who can fault creations?
It is meant to live it up

It is only the night watchers
Stick it in by Lucifer to thwart a plan
Going all out to punish those involved
The dating games and its benefits
Cascading down from the nights of passion
And they say it is wrong!

On the nights of heat
You can see God's paradise
Nothing will beat its creation
This is a gift

It makes our mundane life comes alive!

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