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He is the hottest masculine lad
That takes my breath away
That makes my mouth water
When I stare at his red-hot masterful splashiness
His majestic pleasant appearance

Hot tasteful brick
With hella lit and sick slickness
That gets to me deeply
Such a studly scrumptious ****
That has me so in love

With his untouchable ***** ruggedness
So rude and smooth wit
So kissable and suckable
So lickable and grippable
Such a badass magnetic rarity

He has me all over the place
So obsessed with his mantastically
Freshalicious and prodigious exquisiteness
How he plays with my flabbergasting traffic stoppers
Mesmerize my exposed glowing points

Give me an extraordinary magical
And incomparable rubdown
Make me feel his brutal loving manhood
Kiss me until my homoness explode
Make me moan hotly and softly

I welcome his impressive devilish handsomeness
How he envelopes my heart and soul
Makes me slip into the boundless depths
Of steaming hot ecstasy
Treasure the incredible length
Of his invincible thickness

Delectable broad-chested heavy-hitter
I love the formidableness and thrillingness
Of his magically effervescent heavenliness
Bobbing on his mad hot throbbing sausage
**** my mouth, follow the route to my dope throat

Make me slurp on it, thirst for it
Make indescribably hot saliva drip from my glossy chops
Make me gasp and grasp his splendiferous shimmering ***
Make me lick his fingers
Inhale and exhale his creativeness

Rock to the rhythm of his electrically
Charged and hypnotic machoness
Lost in his infinite resilient energy
Fill me up with his titanic and thunderous words
Marvel at me down on my knees

I ache for him to feed me more
Of his thick heavy equipment
Make me speechless as ****
Filled up with so much uncontrollable raw lust
Touch me deeper, shock me with his flaming sensual electricity

My feelings for him grow stronger
Kissing and ******* his bright eye-grabbing crown
Enamor the base, taste his sheer superb fur
Massage his extravagantly handsome thighs
Move my mouth along his lovely robust legs

Feel him ****** his seductive love muscle further down my throat
Make me take all of his ****
Make me feel it to the maximum extent
Make me relish his **** more than ever
Converse with me poetically

Make me explode like brilliant magnificent fireworks
Amazed by every all-pervading and exhilarating sensations
I feel within me when he flexes
His transcendently pleasurable and gratifying grandeur
Apply considerable continuous pressure with his turgidity
And squirt his delicious **** milk
Everywhere on my brown and jovial face
some people say they are happy
some people act like they're sad
some people seem to be in-between
being neither good nor bad

some people out there are reckless
some people in here are refrained
some people elsewhere are helpless
and need a hand every now and again

some people hold onto sorrow
closed tight in the palm of their hands
never once giving tomorrow
any chance to dance at a second chance

some people have learned to move mountains
others fall off of cliffs
some people are like city fountains
others barely can form a drip

some people always look for the best
some can't see past their nose
some people need to give it a rest
some need to learn to let it all go

some people see only their needs
never once caring for others
some people bleat like they are sheep
some would rather stay under the covers

some people are over anxious
about what might come next
are you some of these people
and what will you do with the time you have left

to effect....some people
Sitting sipping watching
With one eye on door
Waiting for old comrades
He knows he’ll see once more
Those left upon the battlefield
Fighting by his side
The men he toasts a drink to
With a tear in his eye
He’ll tell you all his stories
To keep his mates alive
And how it is his honour
That they helped him survive
So if you see a veteran
Sit with him for a while
Listen to his wisdom
And keep his memories alive
Zhey is to Them as Zhee is to It...
The argument: God got it wrong.
Your singular identikit:
A plural and psychotic song
The selfish language of the young:
Confusion -- that’s your mother tongue.

The pronoun wars have lost the day.
We shall not call you what you wish,
Nor let you serve yourself this way
From your strange cracked and leaking dish.
Freshmen claim to be dysphoric,
Acting merely sophomoric.

We get it. You’re a special kid.
You came, confused, from mama’s womb
With daddy’s chromosomes outbid
By better buyers, we assume.
Have your tantrum—we won’t take it.
Girls are girls and boys can’t fake it.

Regardless how you cut and paste
Or wax autistic at your foes . . .
Reality can’t be defaced
And sin’s rebellion ever shows.
Your gender was confirmed at birth
When you arrived on God’s green earth.

Proud warrior of the gender war:
Change Romance languages, and ***.
Then count your chromosomes once more…
Till Y no longer follows X,
The Lord is God. That does not change
His truth has power to derange.
DYSPHORIC:
adjective; pertaining to dysphoria,
or of being in a state of dysphoria
For us,
the older generation
we took pictures and videos
to remember
The seasons of our lives.
To share with generations;
grandchildren, children,
Our husbands and wives.

Sadly, as we get older
We don’t remember
our old lives
As time grows colder
The memory fades
the reasons we capture
the moment..
The names of the people
in the photographs
escape our recollection

Before it’s too late
we need to
write
at least a paragraph
  of each picture.
Before the memory is lost
from our mind completely
and then they’re just people.

These little paragraphs
added to your photo album
will create a lasting
picture book memoir

Generations
after you were gone,
Your story will live.
Even if you were never
rich and famous,
did something extraordinary,
Such as;
paint, a masterpiece, right a symphony
the point is you lived!
When you were gone and generations, ask who you were, you won’t just be a name you will show them through the photographs that you lived, and you loved.
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