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 Apr 2021 elizabeth
thepoeticwit
I write my songs
in the echo chambers
of my heart
a deep dark dungeon
of hellfire and unclean secrets
only ever have my eyes seen
my ears heard
and my heart keep
my demons
tremble in awe
of the songs I sing in the night
Like a lamp in the corner of a dark house
I wait for next morning
I wait for a new sun to arise
and resurrect me from this decaying carcass
So that my soul can echo the song of twelve thousand elders and saints singing
Glory, Hallelujah
I've been set free
But until that day comes
I shall echo in the chambers
and echo in the airwaves
and wave my hands in
surrender
Here I am on my knees
Almost giving up
Almost giving in
Almost giving
Always
Giving
Echoes
of a desperate dying heart
hoping and waiting
for such a day to come
Glory
Be
To
God
Drench me in your sweet aroma
Trickle down my neck
Splashes of tears
Kiss my cheek, a little peck.

Shower me with your love
Cover me from head to toe
Touch me with your splendour
Flood me with tears, just so

Invade all of my senses
Wash over my skin
Sins now wiped away
Let my life begin
©️ 2021 Joshua Reece Wylie. All rights reserved.
A poem inspired by rain & Christian faith
 Apr 2021 elizabeth
Tony Tweedy
In a foreign land,
over two thousand years ago,
there lived a man,
whom the world would come to know.

Raised out of Nazareth,
his humble place of birth,
tasked with spreading words of love,
and of peace throughout the Earth.

Many were his deeds,
and so timeless and true his word,
that he changed the shape of the world,
for those who saw and heard.

He challenged the authority,
of those who then held sway,
by telling common people that through his Father,
there lay a better way.

Challenged by his word,
and fearing influence on the wane,
by deceit and lie,
they sought to take control back again.

Despite his deeds and truth,
evident in what he taught,
by deception, lies and betrayal,
he was rounded up and caught.

In a trial that found no arguement,
to undermine what he had said,
he was sentenced to crucifixion,
nailed on a cross until he was dead.

I am sure you know the rest,
of how on the third day he did rise,
and you have seen our world still battling,
against the hate and all the lies.

On this very weekend, remember,
this man from long ago I beg,
for there is much more to this remembrance,
than the chocolate in your egg.
Enjoy you Easter everyone.
 Apr 2021 elizabeth
an artist
the exact middle, she claims
i'm neutral, she says
i don't pick sides, she proclaims

no, no
the exact middle is never
the exact middle
of nothing

we are always in the middle
of something

when i hear her say,
"you know i've never picked sides,"
what i really hear is:
"i don't care enough to care"
"my comfortability, my ignorance, is worth more than someone else's struggles"
"my silence is more important than another's life"

what i hear is you giving up, giving in,
because it's not your problem, right?

no, no
the exact middle
is never
a "neutral" place to be
Don't force someone to love you.
Love comes naturally
And the best kind of love comes
To those who patiently waits
Then if love ain't on your way
Be still patient
For it's not the best timing
But god's timing is always the
b e s t
         - god's love is on your way
 Apr 2021 elizabeth
Sid Bulan
Mirror, mirror, oh, horrors on the wall!
Shall we pinpoint the most noxious of them all?
The Orient's Pearl shed the vehemence of a breathing nightmare,
Where divided abundance were forced to fit the mouth by power.

Shall we pinpoint the most noxious of them all?
Those angels who led the whole domain to its fall,
Where divided abundance were forced to fit the mouth by power?
Or the spawns who crippled the only way out of hell's lower ladder.

Those angels who led the whole domain to its fall,
At the temple of their Lord, they kneeled and kissed his filthy sole.
Or the spawns who crippled the only way out of hell's lower ladder.
A dictator of what is enough and what is not for each other.

At the temple of their Lord, they kneeled and kissed his filthy sole.
To paint scarcity with the luxurious blood of their skinny soul.
A dictator of what is enough and what is not for each other.
The development of their lives mirrored the regression of their cower.

To paint scarcity with the luxurious blood of their skinny soul.
And erase the borderline between good and evil in hell's deepest hole.
The development of their lives mirrored the regression of their cower,
Without a cost of every soul, who survived but cannot live any further.

And erase the borderline between good and evil in hell's deepest hole.
After all, we're just people, who wanted a magical egress without a toll.
Without a cost of every soul, who survived but cannot live any further.
A down-spiralled glass where progression always got knocked over.

After all, we're just people, who wanted a magical egress without a toll.
But now, we're certain who is the most noxious and vicious of them all.
A down-spiralled glass where progression always got knocked over.
Hidden beneath its transparent cover is nothing but hell and its fiery fire.

But now, we're certain who is the most noxious and vicious of them all.
The Orient's Pearl shed the vehemence of a breathing nightmare.
Hidden beneath its transparent cover is nothing but hell and its fiery fire.
Mirror, mirror, oh, horrors on the wall!
A first shot at pantoum poetry for a little online writing competition. Didn't win anything but I got this as a takeaway so it's worth joining.
 Apr 2021 elizabeth
Maya Angelou
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may **** me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
 Apr 2021 elizabeth
Sylvia Plath
"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"
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