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Seek so intently
Fight it so invently

It lies to everyone
It lies in everyone

Seek so intently
Fight it so gently

Ego is resentful
Ego is repugnant

Seek so intently
Criticize pithily

Venerate
Open mindedness

Seek so intently
Explore curiously

Or pine for meaning
In you’re prison cell

stay so fetal
You’ll stay so fertile

Until you venture
Past your hurdle
With a great hurtle
Poetress2 Mar 2019
Can you picture Jesus, on the Cross,
where He laid down His life, to save the lost;
Can you see Him hanging, on that Tree,
where they strung Him up, for all to see?
~
Can you imagine, the pain He felt,
when into Him, they drove three nails;
And from the beatings, of which He took,
Human was not how Jesus looked.
~
Can you feel the betrayal, can you understand,
why His flesh, it hung in ****** strands;
Can you hear within your own, small mind,
the crowd as they called out, "Crucify?"
~
Can you see Him suffer, could you watch Him die,
would you turn your head away and cry;
Do you think you'd remember, the reason He came,
"twas to set the Captives, free from blame.
Matteo Palermo Sep 2018
Close my eyes shut with the nails that crucify your hands.
Cingyeng Vang Sep 2018
The pomegranate was broken in half by His hands
It bled
And the seeds of the pomegranate was handed out by Him
So all that He chose to give, had a piece of the pomegranate.

Isaiah 53:4‭-‬5
He The Father, The pomegranate The Son, The seed The Holy Spirit, they all work as one.
Kurt Schneider Mar 2015
Hey you with the big brown eyes,
Crucify me.
Hey you there with the secret smile,
In the devil's style,
Crucify me.
What are two friends playing blind,
with hearts disguised
Why don't you step inside me
Why don't you try to know me,
Why don't you leave me empty inside.
Why don't you crucify me?
I often think of how you must have felt on that eventful day
it must have caused such turmoil in your mind.
You preach of love and loyalty to your father up above
but there was no one who treated you in kind.

Instead you battled prejudice from those you deem to love,
a love that was not plied upon to you,
disloyalty was so pronounce you must of looked to God above
but towards your flock no sediment did stew.

Of those you taught, who turned away announcing they new not
this good and holy prophet in his hour of need.
Allowing all and sundry to pronounce throughout the land,
that to eradicate this man they should indeed.

Your followers fled from you in fear for their own,
should they be of preference to gain?
They watched as humiliation and defacement were applied
and refused upon direction to utter out your name.

It was not until you died upon the crucifix that day
did your followers decide to turn and face the torrents flow
and pronounce to one and all of the mistake that they had made
by announcement of their Lord that they did know.
2011
Lightbulb Martin Aug 2014
Or at least thats what I always believed to be the Gospel Truth.
I was a true ***** believer in this supposed axiom
right up until the moment I
ceased drinking unceasingly.
And what did I have to believe in now?
I loved drinking.
Loved loved loved it.
I loved alcohol so much that I stopped noticing anything else in my life.
Eventually I drank so completely that I stopped noticing it as well.
Kind of like a Blasé blah marriage of addictive attrition,
alcohol was my infernal internal companion.
It never strayed nor ever cheated me.
'Twas extraordinarily dependable and pleasantly blendable too.
But you know what?
I'm happier now.
I have purpose beyond my elbow's reach.
Purpose deeper than the bottom of any bottle.
Alcohol may have been all of those things I just mentioned,
but it really became my life's filter.
But not the kind of filter that removes all impurities.
Rather a filter that kept any and everything out of my life that didn't include alcohol.
Devious huh?
My 'filter' worked like so:
If I wanted to Laugh?
I'd need a few shots before the funny could start,
and after a few more drinks the funny wouldn't stop...
Even when what I thought was so **** funny was
actually so **** painful it made everyone miserable
and want to go home and cry.
If I wanted Love?
Or ***?
I'm gonna need to be hammered
before I even attempt to express the former,
but not too hammered or there's
no recompense in attempting the latter.
Every facet of my life had to get in where it could fit in,
always sublimated beneath my HNIC
alcohol.

If a job didn't let me drink,
my drinking let that job go.
The list of let go's is breath achingly long.
Small sample?
I quit guitar, I quit family, I quit joy.
About the only thing I didn't give up on was cigarettes.

The inelegant mathematical constant made plain by my life was drinking. The proof would look something like this:

Me/T = S
to explain it as a constant:

Me over Time is always equal to *******.

It was a given.
That finally had to give.
It's only been 'less than a long time' since my last drink.
It's been a little while, but compared to the number of times I've circled the sun
it feels insignificant.
This means I need to keep the memory of my marbles being misappropriated by mixologists muy importante en mi cabeza.
That last sentence was mostly for me.
So is this next one.
Perhaps I can potentially ping-pong my perspective on
how long it's been since I drank.
I could make it seem like half a lifetime has passed since then.
And I think I could.
If I was a toddler.

Me Not Drinking?

Me Not Drinking Is The Sun Shining.
Me Not Drinking Is Zaria Smiling.
Me Not Drinking Is Broncos Losing Superbowls. (Sorry Colorado)
Me Not Drinking Is a Life Meant to Be.
For Me.

I can see now just how drab & gray life's kaleidoscope
becomes when viewed wholly through an alcohol filter.
So i am sad to say goodbye,
but i am more sad it took us so long to part ways.
Alone I can smile and can sigh,
perhaps even cry.
(if I get something in my eye).
Because I am human again.
I feel all the feelings again.
I am a me again.
I am filterless.
**** Yeah!
Helloprose.com, I know, no judging, no condescension, I wrote this for me, If you get something out of it? Kisses...
Kevin Eli Apr 2013
To choose to listen to the voices in my head or the whisper in my heart.
Blinded by my own hand most of the time.
The roller coaster turned into a merry-go-round.
I knew where I had ended up, but I didn't see the start.
My thoughts are off and running again...

Round and round,
I feel this creeping monster run down my spine and gnaw at my center.
I am terrified of it.
I let it go on forever.

...I finally looked inside and asked,
"What the hell do you want from me?"

"I just want you to know that it's me, which is you.
Just trying to tell you that you need love, that's the truth."

I need to stop crucifying myself to feel alive.
It's selfish.

— The End —