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If your lips are dry, let me moisten them with the sweet fragrance of my lips. When your soul is empty, let me fill it with the fruits of my love so you can moan in ecstasy. Let me whisper in your mouth and it shall melt like honey. A kiss of mine can satisfy the wishes of a Master like you. Tell me how to please you, Lord. Come and swim like a fish into the ocean of my love. Let us melt into each other, let me wound you with everlasting pleasure. God shall be our kingdom and you my only Master.
The sun sempiternal shepherds its flock life-longly. Repetition be its brother, night be its foe. As regurgitation fumes, funneling heinous broth of decay and hostility, the tedium drips ashore, clenching its claws, raising the congregation of lunatics hellwards and in a moment of inseparable divisionism, bursts out loud, hardening the ground with desecration. Outbegotten and throughbrought, the once ****** ******* feral sons to the demented deity all above and none below, in turning, swirling and the ever-prying agony, facilitate themselves a house atop a hill. After the cacophony concludes, The Fool finds himself standing, thrice woven, wolfmeadow thrown, fistlike tenacity hit, once beholden to each beast of coppered glow. Up he reaches, but finding nought and disillusioned with disinterest he breaks down in acid tears and horrid shrieks for mercy. The inward calibre reciprocates and bursts out a tubular noise of contradiction. In all still-standing, the Queen, she of the all-overseeing, turns to The Fool and parlours him a wisdom: "I am unto you as a universe is unto itself. I am within you as this earth is within me. I am you and you I shall stay. And when you at once turn dust-wards, I shall, bereft but forthlooking, beget you again." Aghast with sudden agonising fragility and from the cosmic incantation a ghost arisen, The Fool in all his momentarily found glory and happiness conjectures himself a vessel to venture upon. What he once missed he now resides in. He found it and now he rejoices. To Youth, at long once and at once forever.
Inspired by GY!BE's "Undoing a Luciferian Towers" and a girl I know, who is obsessed with Boris Vian and all things avant-garde.
Peyton L Aug 23
Most believe
that not knowing
will drive you mad.
But really
learning the truth
can make you just as crazy.

It's a different kind of psychotic, yes.
But insane nonetheless.

There are secrets
secrets to this world
that a meager human mind
should not learn
should not have to hold.

Sometimes those fiendly deities slip up.
They leave a door open
a window cracked
and suddenly!
a human knows too much.

There are consequences, of course.
The natural order will always be restored,
in due time.
But alas, it is not the clumsy god who is punished,
no, if only it worked that way.
No, as it has been since humans
first walked,
the poor mortal man must be punished
for learning
listening when he ought not to.

And that's where the madness of knowing
comes in.
As punishment for the deities' wrongdoings.
The natural order is restored by erasing the man's
sanity.
And once it is gone,
it is impossible to retrieve.

So be careful, little mortal,
when you wish in the well for infinite knowledge,
you never know what mischievous god
may be listening.
Priyam May 23
Welcome to our society
Where we live in anxiety
They will judge you for being drunk
And some will for your sobriety
The lowlifes that inhibit it
Come in all varieties
They divide you in the name of religion
To pray the same deity
So I welcome you all to our society
Where we live in anxiety
Star BG May 15
The deity of love did speak
from her pedestal of love.
Words pulsated
in swirling imagery
Dark fades into a light song.

Her pen had wings
anointing air of page.
Her presence was felt
as each stepping stone of words
tickled eyes.

The deity of love drifted
waving her wand of love.
Smiles anchored with harmony
as verse became
golden necklace of pearls.

And when she disappeared
to move in territory of universe
her words stayed
to gift all who gathered.

Hail deity of love
I bow in your honor.
Inspired by Hirondelle  who has a special love affair with words. A marriage made in heaven that I am grateful to see,
Briar Ren Jul 2018
The boy that resides
in the hollow of my mind,

I gave him a name:

Morpheus.
I am not a human being,
I am the deity of profound perceptibility,
touch me with your terrestrial senses and die,
blessed or cursed for eternal life.



(My autobiographical book will be out soon.)
You leave offerings for a temperamental deity
and hope she doesn't ruin your life
like she's done a million times.
You keep doing it because there are days,
oh,
there are days,
there are days when she causes the sun to tan your face,
rain to nurture your crops,
and you love her so dearly,
your lady,
your mistress from above,
that you keep leaving food offerings,
writing prized literature,
singing songs,
giving everything.

She gives,
and she takes away.

I swear I try not to act so immortal.
Steve Page Feb 14
The Son of Man came to seek
and to save the lost
to touch and to heal the hurt regardless of His personal cost

The Son of Man came to embrace
the human condition
without hesitation
He sat down in poverty
with those used to exclusion

He walked with the weak
and spoke with the ignorant,
putting up with derision,
He shared His wisdom
in the face of indifference.

The Son of Man came
to live and to give,
to love and to grieve,
to walk in scuffed sandles
to suffer blood blisters,
cuts and calluses.

The Son of Man suffered much
though He lived without fault,
He was a man well acquainted
with aches, tears, and snot,

with breaks and blood
and not a few bruises
and still He asked
with a death rattle gasp,

'Father, forgive my accusers.'
More than human.
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