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Devil Atticman Oct 2023
The sun shone down,
Red from smoke in the sky,
Yellow from dust hung in the air.

Then the storm came.

The sky went grey,
The trees blew bent,
Torrents beat the ground into mud.

Then the storm passed,

And the sun shone down
From a wind-cleared blue sky
Through air rinsed clean by the rain.
Ever notice, after a storm, that the air tastes that much sweeter after the atmosphere has circulated?
Corrinne Shadow Jul 2023
I lay a girl to rest in the flowers.
She sleeps softly in her meadow bed.
I stand by, Woman, strong.
I love her with all my heart
But I am glad I am not her.
Not anymore.
A snake slithers through the grass
His name is Death
And I am, at last, afraid of him.
When he strikes at my heel,
I crush his head.
All my force aided by
The blankets of comfort I wear around my shoulders-
Collected from my Dear Ones
And from the One above.

Suicidality fades,
Suplexed by love.
I loved myself with all the violence of a wrestler.
I threw my self-hatred on the ground;
Crushed the head of my snake.

Now-
Back straight
Head high
Hair curling around a sun bonnet
Skirt rippling out
Boots splashing in puddles
Music in ear and heart

I graduated at last
From barely surviving
To fully living.
This site wouldn't let me log in for a long time, but I just wanted anyone who has ever supported me to know that you were right. It does get better. ❤️
i have a dream
a dream far from this noisy planet
no one to bother me and my thoughts
not even a splash of light

i have a vision
a pale intensity , with a maximum darkness
a black light with no forgiveness
directly from the hell it started  yelling

a creator or a destroyer
just alone ....
just a pitch black light and me
i will invade everything
its great to be a thoughtful person
lua May 2023
it's dusty, i swipe grime off my skin
my memories piled up in stacks of
knick-knacks, yellowed notebook pages,
and drawings from when i was twelve
i haven't cleaned my room in a year
too scared, anxious
to touch anything
the fear of breaking my fragile sense of identity
that i've clung to

it's desperate, lonely
sleeping in a dusty room

i wipe the sweat from my forehead
cobwebs weave through my strands
clinging in clumps as i
rummage through my belongings

i hadn't seen these things in a while
remnants of when i was
happier, even though i said i wasn't

i'm a year older again
and soon i will be years and years older
and i will leave this room behind

for now,
as i stay for
a little bit longer
let me revert back into
the child i was.
lua Oct 2022
the meadow watches me
eyes hidden in flower buds
while i run through the tall grass
chasing after a ghost
its blurry form shifting colours
like the sunset and sunrise
sweat drips
down my cheeks
maybe i'm crying
i can't tell, really
i just know that
my lungs breathe clean air
for the very first time.
Steve Page Aug 2022
I am not as you see me now:
booted, colour coded, weighted down by disinfectant and toilet rolls,
sweeping, mopping, bringing cleansing, facilitating,
helping others meet God ...

- oh, so I guess I am

- I am how you see me:
serving, pushing my way right to the back, preferring others
and finding Jesus there, with his blue gloves and apron,
ready to pick up and sweep up, refill and mop up
whatever is left behind

and ever-ready to pick up and refill
whoever finds themselves left behind

We're heavenly hosts for Jesus
and you'll find us where you need us.  
At the back.
Serving with true servants here at New Day Generation
She laid on stained sheets
that were once pure white,
desperate for love she gave her body away everynight,

With mascara running down her face,
on the floor she laid in the same place,  she didn't sleep in the bed unless it was for a ***** deed,

Soon a gentle touch awoke her from where she fell asleep,
A kinda touch that the soul feels so deep,
She looked up to his face
from his feet,
and
saw that his expression was sweet,
He took her body in his arms,
She couldn't walk from the ******
harm,

Then she felt shame when she realized, JESUS was His name,
In his arms she began to weep,
But he reassured her that he
was in her heart for keeps,

She could not express joy and peace,
after all, not after all of her sins,

She couldn't figure out...
how she ended up in the arm's of
The Prince of Peace,

She was made pure and clean,
White as a mountain snow scene,

God is great,
Kneel before it's too late,
Let Him heal you're wounds and scars, His love shines better than all the stars.
From strained sheets and stained with shame to pure white and clean. She didn't want that kind of life but she didn't see a way out. She wore her make-up dark and deep and every day and night she'd pray and weep. No one knew her true heart of hearts BUT, The ONE, and He intervened. He made her clean and he showed her so much love that she forgot all the shame. Now she had a new life and a new name because Jesus heard her and Jesus knew her heart. See more at https://m.facebook.com/VenjencieCliftonArnold
Michael R Burch Nov 2021
Hymn to an Art-o-matic Laundromat
by Michael R. Burch

after Richard Thomas Moore’s “Hymn to an Automatic Washer”

O, terrible-immaculate
ALL-cleansing godly Laundromat,
where cleanliness is next to Art
—a bright Kinkade (bought at K-Mart),
a Persian rug (made in Taiwan),
a Royal Bonn Clock (time zone Guam)—
embrace my *** in cushioned vinyl,
erase all marks: ****, vaginal,
******, inkspot, red wine, dirt.
O, sterilize her skirt, my shirt,
my skidmarked briefs, her padded bra;
suds-away in your white maw
all filth, the day’s accumulation.
Make us pure by INUNDATION.

Published by The Oldie, where it was the winner of a poetry contest. This poem was inspired by the incongruence of discovering "works of art" while doing laundry at a laundromat with coin-operated washers and dryers. I was reminded of the experience while reading Richard Moore’s “Hymn to an Automatic Washer.” Keywords/Tags: hymn, art, America, Americana, laundry, laundromat, washer, dryer, appliances, clean, cleaning, cleanliness, clothes, clothing, underwear, god, godly, godliness, water, baptism, inundation, sonnet, analogy, humor
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