Burned to Ashes

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At first it was a burning desire. She had stolen my heart. Then she stole my peace. Now she is stealing my essences. It is just a burning something now. Just burn; shriveling to ashes. My essence, like some sort to hydrocarbon being used to fuel someone else’s prosperity. As if I was the middle east and imperialists came to ravage the oil deep beneath my surface. The essence of the land.

The burning is of nothing like before. It is hellfire perhaps. The burning of my soul. Or is it the burning of jealousy which consumes me? Are there even any ashes to commemorate my loss? Can these ashes become like a phoenix and rise again to soar to new heights?

Perhaps you are the fire which actually burns. Consuming my heart, then my character, then my peace, and now my essence and my dreams. Why is has this burning become a part of me?

The Cravings

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As the passage of time lapses,

And the clasp of your necklace drops.

My fingers trail down the curves of your shoulder blade.

You sigh as if your about to cave,

Into my arms, a willing slave.

And my lips press into yours,

Your back arches like a bow,

Waiting for an arrow to be placed,

But instead you find my arms,

Intertwined around your luscious waist.

Spartan

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Masks Off

We’re less than a week away from Halloween! If you had to design a costume that channeled your true, innermost self, what would that costume look like? Would you dare to wear it?

I view this post in retrospect because last year I actually did create a costume that channeled my “true, Innermost self” and I was planning on wearing it, had it not been for unexpected circumstances. The costume was made mostly of cardboard, spray paint, thumb tacks, duct tape, glue, and a belt. A red throw was used as a cape and a bandana was used as a plume. The costume was that of a Spartan. It exemplified a Spartan way of living. I had only spent $6 on the entire costume after all. However, this true, inner most self which is a Spartan alludes to much more than just that. It alludes to my interests in join the nation guard. It alludes to the fact that I would do anything to protect my family, friends, and my home town. It means that I have the ingenuity and the strength to be a warrior, and that is the true me; Unrelenting, unwavering against the hardships of life.

Art of Manliness

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Art of Manliness, why yes these hands ARE blessed.

This straight edge razor doesn’t handle itself,

It takes talent, it’s apparent, and I’ll leave you impressed.

So don’t stress to me the difference between a child and a man,

Just look at these hands and ask yourself.

These calluses aren’t for enjoyment,

They’re from hard work, the labor of employment.

Days in and days out, as gods plan plays out,

For I might not have a fancy car and I might not have loads of cash,

But these hands are better than a safety deposit stash.

They can build houses; they can break down boxes,

They can move mountains; they can sift through sand,

Don’t talk to me about being a man,

Just look at these hands.

Times gone by

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Mine was a different kind of war,

Where shots fired rang alarms,

And high fives stood high,

And men kept fighting on,

Till the day they would have to die..

A miserable death.