Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
SøułSurvivør Jul 2019
I take in the
Taste of prisms
With a tender tongue

Blue,  violet, verdant green
Magenta marvelous
Yellow, mellow light
The flavors of the sun
Shining through crystal
Covering my lips
Cherry red

The Taste Of Prisms
Emerges
Energizes
Enervated inspiration
And the ecru canvas
Comes alive with color!

CREATE!!
I've joined several artist's sites on Facebook and I'm getting very inspired to paint and draw. I want to see my canvas coming alive! Thus this poem...
SøułSurvivør Jul 2019
I drink of Darkness
Under the pure skin of night
Where Shadows pool
In my cupped hands.

I drink of Darkness.
I drown in it.
I Revel in its sorrow
It's oily tears.
I sink under its billows.
The Bellows of its lungs.
Which fill with the phlegm
Of the countless dogs
Who drink of it.

I look up at the auburn sky.
For the sake of the devil
Starless.

I drink of Darkness.
Like a pool which is a
Septic morass
Of nightcrawlers.

I drink of Darkness.
Bailing with no raft.
A soul eclipsed

By nothing.
There was a time when I used to love the night. When I was an addict and I was looking for my fix. I used to love to go out at night. It was very dangerous where I lived, but that did not matter to me at the time. I simply wanted my *******. Thank God I found the savior! Jesus Christ literally saved my life.
SøułSurvivør Jul 2019
,,              
“””.              
\              
,,,
“”””
     \
        ,,,,                                      
        “”””­                                      
\              words
     ­                     are seeds
                           which float like
             a dandelion fluff in the
             wind / a breath of air
             can send them to
            flight/ yet
            T
          H
         E
       Y

A
R  
E  

O
    F  

        T
            H
              E

           ­      E    A    R    T    H
Concrete poetry

The first one I’ve done in quite some time
SøułSurvivør Jul 2019
Rain! Timpany sounds
on the roof and from the gutters
call me to my front porch.
Such music! Like little
silver hammers striking
the drumhead summer-baked
desert floor. Magical music
murmuring to my muse.

Petrichor, after an extended
dry spell, lingers. Nestling in
my nostrils. How could two
chemical reactions create
such delicious desert desiring?
Duplicity of dust and drought
with a wet, wondrous wealth
of water! Whew... hoo!

My eager eyes behold emerald
instead of dull khaki, brown
and olive hues, odalisque
forms of the prickly pear
will become plump in their
passionate love of
precipitation! Ahhhh...!!

What a joy to behold
the crystal curtain once more!
Small beads of moisture
form on my forehead
and fingers. Fascinating
to feel the hairs on my arms
stand up with the
electricity of negative ions...

Every sense is smothered
with summer storm extract...

ECSTASY!!!
SøułSurvivør Jul 2019
In a crucible we're placed
As gold with dross to spare
Placed upon a fervent flame
We are all heated there.

Through this hard and
Hellish trial
We melt down as the ore
Releasing our impurities
Our faults come to the fore.

All the greed and avarice
All coveting and lust
Hate and anger bubble up
All envy & mistrust.

Jealousy. All vanities.
Malice & disdain
We scream & shout
And writhe about
Grumble & complain.

God takes his refiner's scoop
Removes the crust and then
Leaves us on the furnace fire
And heats us up again!

As we release the
Dirt and grout
There is a peace that's found
We find our comforter in Him
And we quiet down.

Still we have the impure thought
We are not worry free
We have a sort of "holy" pride
Religiosity.

Finally, this scraped away
There's NOTHING left. No trace
God looks into the shining gold
And sees His very face!

How glorious, the finished gold!
How beautiful the ore!
It's set in wondrous majesty

To shine forevermore
.
I'm going through some very difficult physical trials. Rather than complain I'm writing about them. We all have something in our lives to heat us up, so to speak. We can get bitter, or we can get better. I choose the latter. My faith really helps. It is my hope that you will find this Faith is as well. Thanks for reading! ♡♡♡
SøułSurvivør Jul 2019
Mars, they say, is God of War
Venus Love...
But not no more.

Mars is red, an angry shade
With knuckles like
A sickle's blade

His right hook
has some might in store
He lays her on
The threshing floor

There he whacks
The chaff from wheat
She's just a dog
For him to beat...

Mars is red
Venus is blue
Black as well
A nasty hue

Her friends tell her
To up & leave
For all the beatings
She's recieved

But she knows
That if she leaves
He'd find... and ****
With none to grieve.

So she stays down
On knees to pray
That Mars would simply
Go away...

He will not
She's bound to lose
Red & blue...
A purple bruise.

Finally she'd had enough
Packed some food
And all her stuff

Before he could
Wake up to belt her
She went into a caring shelter

He searched and searched
But never found
His goddess was
Nowhere around

He drank and drank
His days away
Finally t'was
As she had prayed

Mars hit bars
With liquored breath
He finally drank
Himself to death.

Mars was red
And Venus blue
But now she's FREE

She could be YOU.

.



SøułSurvivør
4/20/2018
This poem has been in my drafts for a long time. I was hesitant to post it, because it has very violent content. But something told me recently that I should put it up. Maybe there's someone who needs to read it, I don't know. All I know is that if you are a battered woman there is help out there. You don't have to suffer in silence anymore!

I was battered... ONCE.
I ran away and called the cops & that was IT for HIM. But he stalked me for 2 years before he finally gave up. I'm lucky to be alive!
Next page