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Jamie King Aug 24
Our wealth an unfaithful wife, she's sooner gone when perils knock.
A bridegroom to poverty you may find yourself. A glutton, not a meal will she spare.

Our vessels, dust that longs for dust, in daily decay.
Our habitats, pedestrians in paths of typhoons and waves.
Our families, cups of bliss, a well of dismay.

We dull the mind in sewers, with each sip an illusion of joy resumes, as sorrows sleep.

A well of eternal bliss longed for having rejected The Owner. The springs of life freely flows but sewers we have preferred.
The spring of life flows freely the invite has been shared.
Johnson Oyeniran Sep 2020
Running for his life,
In the dead of night,
Was a young fair guy,
Strong and in his prime.

The young mans ex wife,
Chased him with a knife,
Stabbed him nineteen times,
And made him blind.

He stumbled and fell,
Into a large well,
Which lead him to hell,
Where the unsaved dwell.

Confused and afraid,
He fell down and prayed,
To Christ for a way,
Out of the bad place.

But Christ ignored Dave,
For he was unsaved,
And spent all his days,
Rejecting Gods grace
Zywa Apr 5
Winter light eats the wide hill
ever barer, buzzards hover over

the headstones in the fertile soil
which for centuries bore olive trees

The souls are elsewhere, where Israel
takes them, the remains perish

in black cloths, to be the first people
to enter the new world on the day

the gate of mercy opens
That is what the dead have lived

and fought for, for that
they have won against the god of war

they have conquered the city, with the source
that breaks out of the earth

Jerusalem, where I suffer
from divided togetherness

Will children of my grandchildren
collect their bones, honour them and

grow olives here again
with sky-high twigs of peace?
Mount of Olives, Jerusalem

Isra-El = Azra-El, the angel of death, who collects the souls of the deceased

God of war: Shalem, after whom Jerusalem is named; today Jerusalem presents itself as the "City of Peace"

Collection "Short Sermons" #50
Gabriel Sep 2022
The bright ray of the sun
enters through our window
landed directly at your face
unveiling a beauty that captured my eyes
as you slowly wake up from your slumber
I get to catch a glimpse
of what I'll wake up to for the next days of my life
and what my arms will embrace
when darkness falls upon us.

You, my love
a chunk of the endless afterlives I'll take
where my soul wanders the plain
and search even for a hint
of your existence.
My body, like a built in memory foam
that remembers every corners
you placed your flesh onto
and hoping for you to arrive
ready for a home that only craves for you.

Grant me a wish,
Oh God divine and true
for the lover I swear to love,
To have and to hold,
I wish for a road
that in every after life we'll face,
no matter how long it'll take,
how rough it'll be,
she'll find me on that road
for me to hold her once more
Death awaits all
It is not the end
But a transition to
A faraway place
And the beginning
Of another life;
A better one
c a r o l i n e Aug 2020
Oh what a place of hope and of no pain
Perfect skies with no rain
Of endless happiness
No tears or even darkness

For nothing loved is ever lost, broken or sad
I am happy here, knowing that I made you glad
I will still remember in the lifetime we had
Doing life together, embracing both the good and bad

Though I could live and love in many past lives
Yet you were the only one I love and is truly mine
I will hold you dearly not only in our earthly life,
But also here in the afterlife

I’ll be watching you from a distance
Still loving you so relentless
Being with you in every instance
Hoping you’ll feel my love and presence

‘Til I wait for you here in paradise
Seek my shining angel light
Though I may have been taken away from you that night
God brought me home, resting by his side
Johnson Oyeniran Aug 2022
Some days i cannot help but question my faith,
And ponder if the bible is true or fake.

Is Christ the saviour truly the only way,
Or a liar who never rose from the grave?

Perhaps Yahweh is just a man-made diety,
Made up to decieve broken spirits like me.

Yes what I uttered is considered blasphemy,
But all Christians hath doubts occasionally.
I took to the shore my final day
my final few hours
the Sun was low and the breeze had a coolness
though it was blistering hot earlier
I was watching an osprey returning from the ocean
a sizeable fish in it's claws
the beach was sparse this late
I relaxed and enjoyed the sounds and sheer beauty
of the Outer Banks
from my left I heard a light gasp that startled me
as I hadn't noticed her approaching
she spotted a lettered olive
as the sea gently lapped the shore
it was rolling back towards the next wave
but she managed to grab it just in time
a look of delight crossed her face
glowing like the Sun itself
'Nice find' I said
'those are tough to come by in that condition'
'they are my favorite'
her eyes sparkled blue and her auburn air
tied in a bobble hung far down her back
'nice to meet someone who still appreciates
the beauty of a sea shell'
I was hoping for a name but one didn't come
instead, she looked up
sent a gaze that ignited not shivers
but an energy down my spine
'If only everyone knew the beauty that lives here
It's nice to meet another who sees as well'
I started to respond, but she turned and continued down the beach
her white kimono lightly lapping with the ocean breeze
appeared to be from a time past
I turned my attention briefly to a group of pelicans
playing 'follow the leader' just above the waves
I could not let her go
I gathered enough courage to continue this chance meeting
but when I turned, she had disappeared
we are no less than 50 yards from the path off the beach
I just saw her less than 30 seconds...
I called out...but felt foolish
I tried to gather my thoughts
a light voice...or thought came as the breeze quieted
my name is Eve...
I walked the shoreline until it became too dark to stay
bewildered...I bid goodbye to the ocean and turned to leave
something caught my eye in the sand
amongst the thousands of shells on display
there lay a beautiful, perfect lettered olive
I will hold onto this one
just left the beach...always prompts a story
Riley Nov 2021

don't forget to keep breathing
cradle-rock your heart
soothe your ribs
don't forget to breathe


the cold is natural
bundle up now
you can always shed
your skin
when the sky turns


don't linger
in the places you once Were
keep moving else
your blood settle


late night parking decks
hotel rooftops
yourSelf a whisper
honeysuckle blooms through
concrete wounds


don't think about waking
ripping out of your body
clawing through the coffin and up
and up

your gravesite is spotless still


cool rich earth
lilies and lavender
whisper rustle of leaves


heavy water
lake mud and rock ****
desperate silence


H u n g e r


slow opening
granite doors and damp moss
spaces between absent heartbeats


the hollow is natural
the brain craves familiarity
the phantom mirrors the physical
the hunger will fade
for a time


when eating cherries
don't forget to imagine a tongue


remorse with me
may the living one day
bestow our graves with offerings
we starve in silence


hollowing may beget holiness
but it doesn't denote such
divinity must be earned
few buildings have managed


you can almost smell his skin
stomach rising and falling
best not to dwell
his life is no longer yours


phantom petal flesh
teeth and thrush
rosethorn oleander s e e p ing black
curses and
  forest rot


do not follow
when the wind asks your counsel
when the moon thorn buds
when the night screams bruiseblueblack
do not seek the woods alone


don't dwell
it's natural to feel exposed
keeping space beside you
will only make missing them worse


let the ceiling fall
it is beyond your power
stars make fairy lights
through the frame of branches
as it should be


Death is a story keeper
an archivist
a library of everything
from the first atoms
to the last sparks


don't worry
the house hasn't moved
since you last saw it
though the tree seems closer


press yourself into
the size of a fist
wrap clockwise around
his heart
cherish the fleeting creature


there is always
my s p a c e
left in the bed
when I come home to


there is
My space
left in the house
when I come Home to



missed exit
streetlights smeared by rain
vacant hotels
liminality made nostalgia


tracing paper kisses
early spring thaw
did I melt away too


isn't is strange
your shadow doubles
film printed over film
light runs through you
heat waves off pavement


time will slip off you
don't cling to it
you'd have better luck
holding the sun
time is beyond you now


the hunger doesn’t fade
it twists itself into sickness
an unfillable void


let your heart fill
with paint and
like the nail holes in plaster
last remains smoothed over


there is no place
for you here
why do you insist on


this house is a heart
are a phantom gunshot


do you remember
a sharp pain where your lungs should be
the pressure of blood stagnant


molars, incisors, canines
rigid and Real against
the memory of your tongue
a sharpness drawing blood
staining the sidewalk beneath your false feet


your body is
wet rot and beetles
a collection of rooms
teeth and stomach and hollowing all disarticulated
a knife in a box


sunlight breaking dust layers
the curtains wave lazily
someone has tracked mud through the halls
a splintered attic door hangs off
its hinges
the air tastes green


when you finally become hollowed
the space between houses
the space between ribs
the space between teeth
the light that pours out
you will be made holy
in your Own image


thick ozone at the back of your throat
rainless thunder rolls
the old piano shuffles untouched
a discordant funeral keen
the air ignites


elevator doors close
stale cigarettes and cleaning chemicals
fluorescent buzzing
vacant sobs in an airy tomb
of concrete


parking decks remain
a kind of home base
for those of us lacking liminality
every one is the same
and as such becomes intimately familiar
no matter how far it means you are
from home


how many eyes are you supposed to have
what about teeth
count them in the mirror


beauty is in the eye
gnashing teeth
silent weeping
love lies not in the heart
nor head
but in the stomach


skin peels back
muscles made of embroidery thread
birch bones bleeding
flesh transmuted


you move through the world
as it moves through you
silently creeping
swirls of smoke and fog
filling up to your sternum


for a time
everything will be unfamiliar
on your journey and
to a stranger’s home


dust to dust
and ashes to ashes
your headstone crumbles
your bones are meal
the world in which you haunt
will one day be far removed from
your own


study the web
the winding and stretching of gossamer
collapsed in on itself
clustered with dew


study the shell
the crests and smooths hard as bone
fragile against your fingers
an inner matrix of holes


study the nest
the braiding weaves of branch and thread
fractured to one side
feathers slip asunder


study the desk
the crags and slopes of precarious inkstaining
spilling frozen towards the floor
fine filtering of dust


what Precisely is a


Congratulations on Completing Part I of Your Introduction Handbook
Please Continue onto Part II


fallow hearts sewn full of seed
bones with the crack and bend of trees
pressed petal flesh bruiseblack at the knees
when building a new body don't forget what it needs


liminality is a current
riptide in some places
burble in others
watch for waterfalls
death doesn’t mean you're a strong swimmer


builders write messages
on the innermost workings
of their buildings
behind the plaster disintegrating and
the wallpaper peeling
a belly button
a birthmark


when the moon calls your name
when the raven screeches warning
when the voices of a house offer deals


kitten-footed fog
follow it through
the tall thin trees
until you see lights
then follow it


tell me about humanity
does it hurt you
is it heavy to bear
or is it just breathing
one foot in front of the other
a faded photograph


rivers slip blue
through the land like veins
cornflower and cobalt
cold tissue paper flesh


missed connection
you left flowers
three graves down
I was in white
under the maple tree


missed connection
you look so lovely
in blue
I'm right here
just turn around


missed connection
every sunday
you walk
bakery library home florist cemetery
you talk to yourself
I always answer


missed connection
you talk in your sleep
do you sense I'm there
deep in your bones
do you know you'll never
be alone again


missed connection
I smashed a plate
and spent all night playing
in your wires
can you feel me now
in the light bulbs humming


missed connection
you haven't spoken since
it's so silent I could be heard
I'm sleeping in the walls
singing for you


missed connection
you were up all night
researching the supernatural
I'm right here
just see me


missed connection
sunday you started talking
to me
we took a new walk
library shopping district cemetery home
notes and candles and blacksalt
a rubbing of my gravestone


missed connection
nothing we tried worked
you still can't see me
you can just hear
my humming in the power sockets
my singing in the walls


missed connection
I wrote you a letter
with leaves under your staircase
you swept them without noticing
singing one of my songs


missed connection
you found a picture of me
framed it
sometimes you leave letters
my name on the front
hidden in the table drawer


missed connection
I tried writing on glass panes
whispering in your ears
you tried spirit boards
seances and divination
I'll never stop
as long as you live


missed connection
you stopped leaving letters
sunday walks abandoned
for living friends
I shorted out the tv
you don't come home much


missed connection
you started driving
to nowhere
I tucked myself
the back seats
you locked eyes with me
through oncoming headlights


missed connection
I broke every mirror
ran screaming through the wires
the curtains are catching fire
can you still feel me
do you still know I'm here


missed connection
you look so lovely
in black
just turn around
please turn around
I'm right here
a long-form poem about being a ghost
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