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cristina Dec 2020
we search for saving in every little crevice
of our lonesome existence
we yearn for release
and for whoever may be generous enough grant it

it is comforting to believe in a savior
because we crave the idea of rescue
a moment of peace in this endless cycle of suffering
as if redemption could befall on us from the sky
as if there was a miracle crafted from the heavens above
just for us
selflessly gifted and waiting to be found

to live one's life in the hope of saving
is the most poetic tragedy ever written by man

I have come to understand the charm of religion
and those who seek to pursue its principles
for if I were certain that someone out there cared enough to save me
I'd get on my knees too
Kaley Aug 2020
Your love is of a sacred kind, that leaves me basking in the afterglow of your longing embrace.
There I find myself alight with emotions so radiant that their golden rays burst forth from my ribcage as if holy arrows have pierced my very soul.
And it is in your divine light that I wish to remain ever more.
Left Foot Poet Aug 2020
they hit you everywhere,
bruises, slow faders,
pretty much all over,
spaced out, body and time

some, they come back,
months, years later,
enticing, devising,
with revelations perfect,
you melt with helpfulness

some claim they are born
with only questions and an
insatiable quest for knowing,
but line in the soil tween rows
is there for you not to cross

some proffer their pain,
asking for ablution and absolution,
from demons they wish to share,
but refusing the smoke of my offering,
that could cleanse both our inhalations

like highway men of yore,
they hit everyone, below the belt,
stave breaking into the heart,
slow bleeding, with answers
received in absentia and silence

until the till needs refilling, and they
renewed, reappear, reformed, with
perfect words, even better questions:

my portfolio of replies mostly go/grow
old, noting the obvious, we are socially
distance by age and geography and
degree, I free and clear to provide while
they just free to hit and run, one more time
if you think this poem is about you, then it probably is…
The Messiah Jul 2020
Guilty, convicted I have been
For unconfessed, undisclosed sin.
I’ve stood in court, and there denied
My sin, and Him who for us died.
And never can a pardon be given
To those who never give an admission
Of guilt, but who maintain the lie,
Deny the truth, and thereby die.
Only the total truth declared
In open court, openly aired,
With honest rue and true contrition,
Will win a sinner’s sins remission.
The truth avowed is the one solution
For souls that seek their absolution.
M Srisaravana Apr 2020
I see them flowers withering, Llorona,
The cold wind sweeps them away,
The leaves and stems are so empty, Llorona,
Come at ones to collect them, Llorona, Llorona,

There's darkness surrounds me, Llorona,
Like a burned coal mixes with the air,
It has consumed me to the core, Llorona,
You are my absolution, Llorona, Llorona,

They say I bring the calamity, Llorona,
Distructruction above all laid,
Even the full moon will hide from the sight, Llorona,
Take me to the river and show me Llorona, Llorona,

My eyes are filled with sorrow, Llorona,
No more butterflies of colors flip the wings,
A dune of a pale sand desert grows in me, Llorona,
Come with the rain and drizzle me Llorona, Llorona,

I wander in the woods and the lakes, Llorona,
Looking for a white gown of a woman weeping,
To give my will freely to your salvation, Llorona,
Hold me in your arms as I pass into thee, Llorona, Llorona,

If your wailing needs life to be taken, Llorona,
Let another child live with joy and meaning,
Take my wasted soul without falter, Llorona,
Let us go into the void of salvation, Llorona, Llorona.
Just inspired by the folklore of La Llorona
Brice Katherine Jul 2019
Open the windows caked in dusty melancholy
Allow the sun's strange rays through
To call the skeletons from their closet homes
Forcing them gone in hurried queue
Wake your mind from heavy slumber
Raise your weary chin
Your search for absolution
Is found once you let light in
Exotic trollwood harlotry and mule kit blues
Tyrannical tyrannosaur traction padness
Cohort cavorts clastic and witch’s *** hues
Ontological ontogeny somatalogy fadness
Inductive endemic veracities and talus weather clues
Epistemological equilibrium’s homogeny badness
Timeless rhetorical ruminations and ephemeral exigency dues
Transcendent ascensional equivocal madness

Tactile acuity prescience capacity intrepid intrigues
Mystical symbiosis dharma sensorium sentiment proselyte
Torturous tractive prosthesis umbrage ultraism colleagues
Newfangled nocturnal nonchalant nether nestle neophyte
Top notch topography tortoise trauma fatigues
Faustian faux pas foist felicitous fealties socialite
Agnate nous ontological ontogeny euphenics in league
Mentalities evocative introjecting sycophant eulogizing apposite

Mystical terrestrial equestrian tellurian tableau
Panoramic imagery empiricist
Evocative exserted apomixies’ ethereal should show
Ontological somatology lyricist
Reflective refraction remissions opulence could know
Theosophy theophany epiphany equilibrist
Magniloquent inductive extrapolation quantum back ***
Transcendent nimbus nimiety exorcist
Ominous phenomenon portrayal spontaneous synchronous
Exponentially extemporaneous
Oskar Erikson Jun 2019
i sold my soul for redemption
to sign this pain away
the devil however forgot to mention
that all the guilt would stay.
M G Hsieh Dec 2018
Blue and somber white, I ask that
you ponder in your waking dreams and solid songs to bare the fruits with these eyes
like children and horses and such.

Naked and trembling. You frighten me.
Words of a thousand suns are witness.
They cross out the years of servitude and grace.

Absolutions. They yearn
to survive until they crave mortality.

I am about to give way. To see you with fresh sight,
hear the voice of another betrayal. Thus far,
there is only One

I have never seen
I have never heard
I have never known.

Cruelty abates
itself, shuns itself.

We wait in silence and petulance,
longing for a day to last
a thousand days
and more.
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