There are 51 articles on this title. You are reading the article ranked and rated #2 by Helium's members.
Drawing on the wall of the house, they are talking noisily.
Palm brief their skirt and easily drop it down.
Dyed blond, black or chestnut brown what you can choice
Who out there,because the blood, and the crazy, wild sex worship.
In stilettos shoes waiting for the rich guests,
Their mouths in bold red lipstick, and the skin dipped in fragrant oil.
Long nails ... have never been accustomed to busy work.
Bring the men to the room , and carelessly throw her shoes in the corner.
There's a sweet, hungry, pretty, snappy, sweet or false,
Bran student who mingled with the lure of money power.
Chested and shaved legs, it is difficult to escape from a small bone gay,
Who push him bottom strained, gracefully waiting for the big impact.
Fallen Angels, who dropped to the trash every human standards,
Opened legs straining contempt of morals in the dust.
Hamburg ... Now I walk in there where allowed - a professional doing.
Pay harlots for breast without waiting emotions...
Angels, who fell so far in the height and bustle of a busy street.
Disgusting any good decent , and the cigarette hanging from the corners of they mouth.
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by Ron Jones
Janie's Song
Little Sally Two Shoes, cringing through the forest
with crown of fire upon her head and thorn
Drawing on the wall of the house, they are talking noisily.
Palm brief their skirt and easily drop it down.
Dyed blond,
by Alain Simard
Taking the final look
Looking into the light
A warm glow
The last glance
A passing moment
For an instant of time
An eternity speeding
Oh stone angel,
You watch over the graves,
These men long dead,
These wonders you know.
Oh stone angel,
What have you seen?
What
Eyes dark, clouded by pain,
Feather's torn in the rain,
Calling out to the sky in vain,
Eye's dark, clouded by pain.
Blood drips
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Poetry: Fallen angel
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