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  • Members: 3,052
  • Category: Hobbies & Crafts
  • Type: public
  • Location: Bronx, NY
  • Date Founded:
  • Group Owner:


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SPEECH..POETRY in MOTION
..This is where ur talent can B showcased N embraced.POETRY IS what i called verbal confetti.colorful arts of letter menstruation that cycle in da mind that switched,swifth glitches,contemplative altercation erraticatin inside da dome releasin each solider of meanin 2 da flesh surfacin from the hyperepidermis spilling in2 da pen massacaring the sheet plane with pressure.Try it,free ur hand N allow da pen it freedom 2 roam, travel da vast land of emotional declaration emancipatin it thought that fly through da temple of ur ancient tombs of brilliance,escapin that bored carcass that give brith 2 dull microorganism makin way for illegitiment pathogen proliferatin da sanctom tower of imagination releasin staphylococcus killin u softly. FLOW WITH ME!


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Announcements (3)
ACCOUNT CLOSED

volumee

Human life has been given to you for the
sole purpose of realizing the Self. If you
die without realizing the Self, your life has
been wasted.



ACCOUNT CLOSED

volumee

TONGUE

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, -- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.



gwyndaniels

gwyndaniels

entangled in a web of deciet and shadows unknown let me break free of this sticky grip although it is strong my arms spread like a broom back and fourth flaring out east, south west and north i refuse to be entangled in all this misery, like a broom on one sweep the web is gone and i am free..................a poem by gwen daniels