musicsoulman7

[musicsoulman7]

[musicsoulman7]

I shall escape the fate kept behind these golden gates, the hollow streets of paradise left withering to speak. For I am bound to plant the seeds, of which glory hast waged and passion thus seethes. Awaiting to conquer the hells of the earth, I am stolen as a flame since my birth. To cast me down from those held aloft in fame, my desire quells only amidst my name, whose fire is burning forever untamed. Wildly dancing through these hands wrought with pain, so those of the flesh may yield a beauty only death could sustain. And grasp the light which has awakened the soul, in ancient corridors broken against the heavenly whole. The lightning streaking upon the thunderous core, where ecstasy brims at the tyre of golden shores. Shattering the senses of winds I have touched, where flowers bloom in an endless brush. Their colors more vibrant in the meld of torrid heat, as the spices of these bodies blend into crimson seas. The miasma of song, bears fragrance into sacred fruit, it's potent scent reaching deep into roots, upheaving those fallow dreams at hallowed grounds, in breaths unseen and flights unbound. While I trounce their misery and lawless conceit that withheld these tempestuous eyes from moments lost without believing, in the visions of ethereal kingdoms, the blinding spirits that enchant the sun, the natures that sing as we are one! So I may reveal the madness of beauty met in pyrrhic states, I shall escape the fate kept behind these golden gates.

[musicsoulman7]

An Ode to Charity,

upon those white wings beating,

horses triumphant at the call of dreams,

ecstasy-born and cast in endless singing,

the unchastened waves of golden shores,

bearing the stampeding straits of the stars,

whose entrance wields the senses opening,

in the mystic light of unworldlier redeeming,

see now the celestial isles that carry the sun,

in radiant flight of majesty over ancient vision,

beauty for the world bestowed in unrest,

as none accrued deserving of the blessed,

untamed and absolute in virtuous crest,

through depths hidden at the precipice,

upon those white wings beating,

An Ode to Charity.

[musicsoulman7]

Oh how the deserts are a calling my name, where my heel bites my brow and my steps are worn to flames. Those desperate lands all sifted through my hands, burning at every touch my soul demands. As I am wandering through the plains of the sky, up overhead I am cast by the eagle's eye, whose voice scheeches out wild and untamed, oh how the deserts are a calling my name.

[musicsoulman7]

I have journeyed many miles to bring you this water, across these sands of burning truths that bear the soul, cast from the stars with heaven's daughter, to relinquish this body of mine unto it's whole. These wings of the breathless, touching moments in ecstasy fleeting, to isles of the immaculate in golden caress, upon the endless and inert, the keepers of dreams. Oh how beauty is made against these grains, sharpening the senses into flames, whose breath bore the diamond strains, to replenish opalescent eyes with ephemeral rains. This gentle solace that pours out into these rivers, carving the paths of ancestral remnants of the sun, in penchant states of celestial givers, timeless and forbidden as the first of song. Whose lyre sings upon feathered winds, alluding to havens set aloft the rafters, as assured as time has always been, forming streams of enchantments after. Collected by the scribes who tarry each droplet of light endured, so the world may carry the nectar they've made pure. And from these hands delivered, imbibed with the prayer of ecstasy’s laughter, sipped sweetly with heaven’s giver, is a journey held in many miles to bring you this water.

[musicsoulman7]

I didn’t not kill myself for this

[musicsoulman7]

Statue of the goddess Aphrodite bathing in the garden of the Reggia di Caserta, Italy.

[musicsoulman7]

[musicsoulman7]

[musicsoulman7]

Three Singers receive a chocolate disc and eat it for our photographer: Petula Clark, Françoise Hardy and Rosy Armen on January 30, 1963 in Paris, France.

[musicsoulman7]

1969

[musicsoulman7]

Miranda (Anne Lambert) collects flowers on St. Valentine’s Day in a deleted scene from Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975)

[musicsoulman7]

[musicsoulman7]

Instant Youth, US Vogue July 1971 Photo Gianni Penati Model Pat Dow

[musicsoulman7]

1985 John Harris cover art to The Corridors of Time, by Poul Anderson

[musicsoulman7]

Reblog if you've formed a meaningful relationship with someone you met online.

[musicsoulman7]

New Orleans, Here I come!!! LOL