Why would I speak to them?
They are of many dimensions away!
I have not persisted in receiving the Lord’s gift of breath merely to squander it in efforts of trying to reach the ascended.

“Fool!
Of what futility do you speak?
The ‘ascended’ never actually rise at all
of those ‘dimensions’ that you reference
they are upon plains of existence
much like ours
in fact,
one with ours
they still walk among you”.

You speak of “oneness”?
“Solidarity”?
No!
Ha!
Do you speak of “synchronicity”?
Deliverance from the decay the spirit kept in flesh?

“No.
I speak of a realm attached to our own
an extension rather.
Can you not feel them around you?
They are disembodied from the flesh,
yet,
embodied inside of your mind and heart
emancipated from the bounds of the physical
you being ‘alive’ renders you an alien to their realm
or, at least you may believe so.
You are no more separated from those aspects of the heart as a whisper, still audible, would be from your lips
so, don’t be so foolish.
You reject that which begot you?
They are still here.
‘Separation’ is a weak concept among the divine”.

That is an actuality that I can not fathom.
A dubious concept
fiend!

I can not hear them if they speak.
I have worn my feet down to the bones
flesh bruised by snow – that frozen beauty of fallen water
that great white mass had devoured my shoes
soaking wet as me and a friend treaded miles towards a promised warmth.
Where were they to carry me at least?
I did not fall,
he and I, we completed our quest
but, there is a cold, painful joke that the frost shall perform in concert upon thawing toes.

“Weak!
Think deeply
let recall and that dark corridor of latent solar dreams assist you through your journey
are you not able to discern the various faculties of your soul?
Think
that minute, yet overwhelming tug
that “pull” that lingers way deep
not below
but deep
through rib cages, lung tissue, and brain regions alike
though pressures not against muscles
though they too shall persist
that ‘feeling’
blessed be!
That familiar strain
that compelling release
emotions
prompted of eras previous
in the right mind it is something righteous
that is how the spirit communicates and coveys
that is how the spirit speaks!
The spirit,
creator - reflections and derivatives
you and I
the attribute of that apparent apparition of an authoritative architecture
aka
GOD!
I speak not of such,
per se,
I speak of the reflection
when souls may annex
those that walk closer, together, are the stronger of essences
portions of my creator’s soul
and there
deep down there
that familiar tug will materialize
times-past is eventually colored divine
everyday such as those, that is when spirit speaks”.

I cannot respond.
I sit, surrounded in silence deep.
A picture of my ancestor
daddy
a macabre gleam of mines
les yeux sans visage
I sail now
through rivers of tears
submerging my being
suffocating my being
drowning my being
I feel the might to muster a word,
a greeting of sorts,
“Father, I…”

The creature, it was an unhealthy being.
My contempt for that species has grown
we are of the same skin, or similar at least,
the same skin, or tone rather.
Analogous cultures.
But, reflections of my ancestors - the divine queens
this species, in particular, could never stand as such.

I had spent the latter portion of this moon-cycle trying to liberate that obese harpy of her injured soul.
Succubus, allowing lower dogs to penetrate her corrupted *****.
That demon believed that she could diminish me with her wasted ****,
but, the universe fortified my soul once, a millennia ago.

Devil!
You shall not tempt me!
I have been blessed, sanctified, under truth too long!
Your disastrous allure will succeed solely upon simple fools
I am a sentient being
sent to resist your immoral carnality
you have expressed your wicked tongue
vicious verbiage that dissected me
a betrayal to my soul
a betrayal
because of who I believed you were.
It was painful of how I was torn from you
you must be held accountable
therefore, my father shall cast fire upon you.

Your species must die!
I’ve prayed to my creators, with the intensity of my tears formulating rivers
I’ve inquired, with a rhythmic melancholic melody, “creator, why has that ***** been allowed to best me?”
I have broken myself upon those feared steps
my amorous heart was established beyond the gates of my temporal temple
but oh, how I plead, that those emotional doors remain closed.
She smiled at me, sinisterly, through a unique masquerade
unbeknownst to me, my affections bolstered by my loneliness, what insidious fiend she would successfully hide.
“ Creator, could you deliver an angel to me?
One who is certainly the truth of the light she speaks?”
I have experienced the deception of the sultry devils  
I have dealt with them long enough
heartless behemoths that persist in crushing me
I am worn down.
“If I expose all that I am onto your angel will she reciprocate my love?
If I have walked miles for her, would she fail to recollect the steps we have taken together?
Will the memories that she and I create evaporate, consequently, following the application of debaucheries prompting her to desire the sensual sensations initiated by another phallus?
Could my truest affections for her be considered when we, under moonlight, kiss?”
Reviewing all of this I must ask what has happened to the values that established the loving kingdoms of kings and queens?”

I ponder a new lady.
My mind discerning the hesitation of my heart to pursue such presumed bliss
my spirit is vigilant
the mind shall decide lest hearts passionately collide
the physical body is of no consequence.
Let it, please, not be her ****** that she, ignorantly, offers
if I shall prostrate myself, vehemently, before her, my dedication to her being blatant
will she remain with me always?

I have toiled under my desire to, “shake off” the soil
the soiled presences of harlots that I have foolishly seduced within that suppressed era of my youth
the constant breaking of my heart hath led me back to you,
back to her, the harpy.
I pledge, out loud, towards the heavens, that I no longer desire the flesh!
I plead, “that if she must be,
then, may she reflect me,
and, emulating the heavens, shall she, certainly, be a reflection of you?!”

Love was made on a level that only the stars above could discern.
My lips ensnaring yours, softly, but, aggressively
as the sweetness of lustful saliva lubricates
embracing you with my arms
I wish to fuse you and I together forever!
The natural expression of divine love that defines
the steamy procession that pursues the rawest display of our reciprocating affections
that moment of rewarding bliss as I enter you.
You, receiving me eagerly with your legs clutching me firmly.
One, we have become under the creator of all.

Early morning sunshine peeks through the window just to greet you,
but, only I can feel you close to me.
The angels have succumb to their envy of me
the celestials I must now fight
oh how they wish to be near you
I cannot lose you.
I love you.

There were those moments that I scoured space and time in search of you.
Breaking the mad tyrant’s gauntlet to confiscate the stones and crawling back to you on my shattered knees to rest at your feet,0
I will give everything that is good to you!
Yes, you!
Only you!

The sun incinerated my hands when I repositioned them to extend our particular solstice.
My reward was a prolonged winter
perpetual so that I could always cuddle with you.

You are God’s beautiful prose
the Creator’s presence is only visible through the essence of you.

You.

King!
My coronation was a trial by fire.
A heavy orchestration of pain casted upon me was my test of ascension
mechanisms of a divine imagining
that which has stretched me beyond thresholds of innocent humanity presented me another edge to my identity
sharper
Cutting deeply into my flesh, that divides like the most tender choice
yet
teaching me equally valuable lessons  
furthering my progression, in life.

The throne is uncomfortable to me.
They lament to me, constantly, that I will “grow into it”
this, abominable seat of my dubious existence here
it’s vast backrest, comprised of a fallible love
petrified skeletal appendages – arms
and various metacarpal complete with long, gnarled, and bony fingers.
It does, whenever I should take a seat, reach into my back, to give a malicious massage to my soul, yet, it does become a shield, of sorts, protecting me from the multitude of tormented souls that fall behind me.
My back
it becomes stressed
all the while I am approached by the denizen of our lower realm.

In such
I am a mastermind to the humbled classes
the discarded region of society’s social classes,
wherein the poor persists, without fruition, in attempting to escape a den of poverty,
akin to the various ways that obstreperous children may try to exit a room secured by vigilant adults
just to reach a room filled with never-ending sugar.
This realm, it is where I am directed to guide.

My crown
oh
it is cumbersome and burdensome upon my crest
heavy is this appointed ornament
to me it is a compliment to the curse
to them – it is a highly important adornment.
Unbeknownst, however, to the masses that wander under moonlight shows,
it slows my pace
akin to stepping double-time through moonlit painted snow
cold.
At times, it causes me to perceive that I am entertaining them,
a frost king
it penetrates my flesh and bones
corrupting my other sanities
now, no doubting or second guessing
hands, that gripped my head many moons prior delivering me from my greatest vessel, were immediately replaced
Excruciating!
I can recall
the unfathomable pain that saturated my newly emerged head
crowning into light that glared proudly from high above - divine!
My departure from a blessed, blood and sweat drenched ***** concluded with them crowning me.

I stand triumphant still
Moses would smile feverishly upon beholding the liars I have killed
Souls that I have saved.

She graduated the highest of class
remove my concern and the drugs would have taken her away
he could have walked away
a worker with no employer
his jobless gains
were too weak to sustain.
The child was a storm between he and the weary lover
filthy, she always thought
lack of maintenance and how the sheets wore their stains
though, he never gave up
his loyalty to his firm – begotten her diamond rings
six mouths that, gleefully, devour his sufficient gains.
lo
remove my torment!
That he could behold my struggle
lo, if I had failed to set an example he would have walked away

Oh!
My throne and crown are brutal to me
agonizing
acknowledged
appreciated
in life I will persist to possess my position gracefully
children now grow as men of learned minds
therein those gloomy alleys of sordid squalor
I serve with, merely, the shards of a broken, yet, celestial knowledge
and, I pray, the most high father will accept my offerings, from my most meagerly harvests.

Lo
most high father
my coronation was a trial defined by struggles
of survival
of the most furious fires!
I am ready!
I think.

Jonah Singleton 2024 ©️

What substance was it?

The culmination of diamond-like shards
crushed and, then, melted into a precarious liquid
a liquid that follows the sway of a glass sphere attached to a glass stem
the end of which is rested between my lips
the length of the stem, itself, is clutched and rested between my index finger and my thumb
large clouds of odorless smoke besets the circumference of my bust as I exhale
immediate!
This substance will soon serenade the totality of my biology’s neurology.
Break that pipe now!
Simple glass that can be stepped on
crushed beneath feet!

What substance was that?
A human is free now
emancipated
the new substance of their affection is sobriety!

Author’s note: please, abate or diminish your substance abuse, if you have one. And, despite what I have alluded to within this poem, “sobriety” is never easily obtained, yet, it is very much worth the effort to obtain it.

My heart has not been broken, no,
instead
it has been obliterated tremendously.

The people of my mothers
their sons and daughters, those who I would have thought were close to me
if I were to ponder, I would wonder of them constantly
my peers
my associates
my loved ones
even my enemies.

Oh!
Artist of this universe
architect of my tortured soul
if I were to humble myself further, would loving hands comfort me?
If I continued to give from my own energy, expendable
will the softest voices whisper to me - essentially, without an audience, keep me company?

Where is heaven from here?
I have been told of a goddess,
who I have yet to encounter,
who I have yet to know closely,
and still,
she has already placed steps within my dreams
wherever her divine feet would land flowers would bloom suddenly, and excitedly
floating, the angelic she
her essence is represented by a hue of light that radiates, a regal shine.

Eventually,
her beauty, it has been revealed to me within this reality,
eventually,
will she deliver me?

Yes
so too, there exists the ultimate skill of GOD
and in man, manifesting perpetually, is the reflection of GOD
to create, reproduce
to plan, to build.

By default of the circumstances
GOD is the creator
and life is an execrable mirror.