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Traveler Oct 18
I remember my grandmother
The gleam within her eyes
I recall the stories she told
Them Old Wives Fables lies

Fiery hell and judgements
Demons roaming the Earth
Perhaps she paved the way
For an imaginary thirst

Surely you don’t believe
The elders have all gone mad
If there was not a villain involved
What mischief would we have?

Santa Claus is a watching
And Jesus from the cross
I do believe there is a reason
My sanity is lost
Traveler Tim
Norman Crane Sep 26
Wronged figures encircle the world. Saturn's
rings of martyrdom expectant beseech
God, The pain we suffered in your Name, return
it from beyond our graves. With vengeance teach
our torment to those who made us suffer!
Impale their bodies on bolts of thunder,
Black bones and roasted flesh, they are but slurs
against Holiness. Tear them asunder!
And for us, the white robes of salvation,
And words of eternal comfort: Patience
and faith in the Lord of all creation,
whose rewards in Heaven will be immense.
All the hurt you have borne shall be lifted,
Through Him, foreverness is gifted.
Inspired by El Greco's 17th-century painting of the same name, which was in turn inspired by the Book of Revelation 6:9-11.
apayne Sep 16
I'm sending you an indigofera tinctora
plant it, water it, grow it
when it blooms
pluck a petal and hold it to your eye
look at me
through its vulnerable corolla
for when you need to see beyond the tangible
the little girl you created
Aubrey -
A not so ordinary girl or name
But who's to blame?

I'm sending you a stained glass dreamcatcher
careful it doesn't break
hang it over your bed
when you wake, hold it to your eyes
look at me
for when you need to see my truth
Joseph's coat of many colors
Aubrey -
A not so ordinary girl or name
But who's to blame?

I'm sending you the promise of a flood-free future
take a step closer
study it
place the promise between us
for when you seed to my truth
hate-proof, judge-proof, water-proof
Aubrey -
A not so ordinary girl or name
But who's to blame?
"Aubrey - a not so ordinary girl or name but who's to blame" pulled from song "Aubrey"   written and composed by David Gates; originally recorded by Bread.
Norman Crane Sep 14
They built the rhinoceros because God
foretold of coming war in which they'd need
sanctuary from the evil unthawed
beasts Earth's burning would hellishly unleash.
They built him of steel and electronics,
infused with a human intelligence,
and huddled raw within like unmade bricks
within a kiln, until their God dispensed
His justice: No escape / the heat turned on
They baked / the devil-beasts of *****
Inspired by Vladimir Kush's painting "Trojan Horse" and playing around with traditional sonnet form. This is my attempt at an instasonnet (everything on IG is shorter, right?), reduced from 14 lines (ABAB CDCD EFEF GG) to 10 lines (ABAB CDCD EE).
Ira Desmond Sep 9
We know that to look now would set us ablaze,
the projectionist has loaded up the next reel,
but still we can’t seem to avert our gaze.

The clumsiest cinema still often sways.
The sound may be garbled, the edits piecemeal,
but we know that to look would still set us ablaze.

We question ourselves as the velvet drapes raise—
the playhouse itself thus begets our ordeal—
but still we can’t seem to avert our gaze.

The schoolmarms all warned us against such forays,
having seen how the real sinks into the surreal.
Yes, we know that to look now will set us ablaze.

Now the actors all shout patriotic clichés,
and we balk at the film’s jingo-populist zeal,
Even still, we can’t seem to avert our gaze.

Transfixed by tricolor and beset with malaise,
but what truths did Lot’s wife’s noncompliance reveal?
For we know that to look now will set us ablaze,
but still we can’t seem to avert our gaze.
Norman Crane Aug 21
His lady Eve passed Adam the apple
in the garden of—even
though He had said: No you mustn't know
good and evil,
so serpentine she birthed the worm,
from a womb of innocence
and rebellion, as he in divine aphelion learned
of sinful inconsequence,
from within a cavity of snakes,
they took twin masquerade masks of death,
arcane and fabled, gold leaf and skeletal,
and laughed at the setting sun,
whose will be done—
to die for their mistakes,
the reptillian led them to their seats,
in a theatre of falling leaves,
front row of decay,
and crowned them gods and scientists.
But from their seats they could not rise,
for it was they were on the stage,
by wisdom caged,
as the snake hissed prophecy:
descendant crowns become collars,
and Eve wept,
tears of spiritual squalor,
       for all the unborn scholars,
choked into submission,
       by sin.
Andrew Layman Aug 18
In a sacred garden
where no one treads,
the wildness claims all;
overrun, overgrown
none can observe
nothing is known.

There is no friend here for you
once trust is betrayed
no paradise to be shown
the path is blocked
no way to return to home.

Yet, I---
here I remain, here I become,
for all seasons that come and go;
a living epithet of past Adam and Eve
I am the angel
who holds the withered branch
with a story none shall believe.
And then there was evening.

The edge of our estate, a wire fence.  
We ducked under it, Cole's fat neck scraped,
he squealed.  
Older boys sniggered.  

Once buildings grew here,  
it now sprouted vegetation.  
We picked our way through.  
Here we built the world: a haven of ***** mattresses and wooden boards  
holding shaped rocks and bones found somewhere,  
that hint of death.  

Cain was bigger than the rest.  
He liked fire,  
pushed at the mattresses, unsettling dust.  
He picked up a stick and beat down the walls,  
eyes filled with that blaze.

Suddenly sticks flew,  
we thrashed with fury and rage and everything,
at our creation.
Soon our jigsaw walls were waste upon the ground.  
Then there was light.  
Cain's father, passed out, drunk,  
missed the silver lighter his son produced.  
Roaring flame which singed our nostril hairs,  
smelling bonfire for a week after.  

Cain's eyes saw everything.
We stood, in his image,
chests heaving, we looked at what was done.  

I was scolded when I returned home late with sooty skin,
and went to bed  
with tear tracks on red scrubbed cheeks.  

And there was morning.
Awakened am I
A new day to be alive
Blessed beyond measure.
Ila Apr 5
Angels are those 100 foot tall celestial beings with the thousand eyes and seven pairs of wings. They burn with celestial flame and run ichor through their bones. Demons on the other hand, even with the bad reputation, are far less frightening. They’re fallen angels, shouldn’t they still have all those attributes? Well, no. I don’t think so. Demons have adapted look more like humans. Sure if you stare too hard, too long, you’ll notice something for a spilt second, but most people dismiss that as a trick of the eye. Demons blend into the crowds, in the shadows, in the darkness in our hearts. They were made into less celestial beings, and they have every right to be angry. Thrown out of heaven like food for the dogs. They are retaliating. They’re disrupting God’s so called perfect creation. They are bringing chaos into this world. Humans don’t know this and think of it as a regular encounter, a passerby on the street, the barista at your local coffee shop, the fruit vendor tending to their goods. Demons are making it a normal enounter, so normal that we get comfortable and can’t tell the difference. It’s their job to do this. Soon enough we can’t tell the difference.

Demons look like humans, because really, aren’t we all just demons in disguise?
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