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a large hand from outer space
descended to the Earth's surface
and with a finger and thumb,

grabs me by the belt at the seat
of my pants,

hoisting me straight up like
a fish out of water for
viewing with a great

He turns my tinyness toward Him
and looks me eye to eye, frowning
in disapproval—

"I dunno, maybe You should
                 toss me away??"

His face then smiled a little,
and with a sigh ,

i was gently lowered
back down...

©2007-2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved
originally published on
myspace blog
05 aug 2007
Val Vik Jan 2017
я пережила чёрные ночи моей души
и воспламенилась со звуком рева!
я сгорела из жерла вулкана!
с силой вод и с духом огня:
я трансформировалась! я возрадилась!
наконец то я своя!

вновь я независима от земли и неба!
моё сердце: целитель своей вселенной!
мой живот: выносливость страданий!
мой дух: воин от негативного свойства!
моя кожа: ювелирное украшение мира!
я очищена вибраций изумрудов,
кристаллов, и всех минералов!
Ces Jul 11
No gods, no fate,
not even yielding to chance
To live this one life
in full acceptance:

This will only happen once!

A stubborn strength
born of a conviction
That there is no soul
in need of absolution

That life is not made meaningful
by abstract metaphysical contortions
in favor of a jealous,
angry, cruel
Purportedly in love with creation

Such is the choice of the humanist
in staunch opposition
to the zealot, the spiritualist
To stand on one's own feet
Acknowledging the grand mystery
Not willing to submit.
Jakuta, the son of Aganju
The fiery son of Obatala
Violent ruler, grandson of Oduduwa
Sàngó, the one who screams with thunderbolt
A betroth to Osun, Oba and Oya
The husband of Oya
Sàngó, the third Alaafin of Oyo
Sàngó, god of thunder and lightning
Sàngó, the clappings of thunder,
His making.
Sàngó, maker of lightning
Sàngó, the dragon that consumes other dragons with fire
Sàngó, killer of Gbonga with his ferocious fire
Sàngó, Arabambi Oko Oya
Sàngó, Eleyinju Ogunna
Sàngó, Olukoso Lalu
Sàngó, the breathe of fire
Sàngó, Olukoso
Sàngó, Oloju Orogbo
Sàngó, the rescuer of Alaafin Ajaka
A favourite to the bata drums
Sàngó, Akara yeri yeri
Sàngó, the killer who was never killed
Sàngó, he who waves his double-headed axe
Sàngó, Oba koso
Sàngó, god of justice
Sàngó, god of dance
Sàngó, god of virility
Sàngó, Agodo
Sàngó, Afonja
Sàngó, Lubé
Sàngó, Obomin
Sàngó, the caster of thunderstones
Sàngó, god of iron
Sàngó, god of fire
Sàngó, the archetypical god
Sàngó, god of power
Sàngó, god dominance
Sàngó, king of Alujá
Sàngó, a great deity
Sàngó, a notable Magician
Sàngó oo
Sàngó oo
Sàngó oo
Olukoso oo

Written by Tosan Oluwakemi Thompson
A eulogy and praises to Sàngó, the god of thunder, lightning, fire and iron.
N Jul 2
I am the sunflower that
grows in your garden,
and worships you like the sun
Steve Page Jul 1
This is my compilation of choice
This is where I hear God's voice
Wrapped in eloquent grace,
Punctuated with tearful praise
User manual or admonishment
Hope and encouragement
Stories of enemies and friends
- where battles end
in the end.

This is my anthology of choice
This is where I hear God's voice
Soft like the call of a lover
Earnest like the tears of a running Father
Substituting justice with forgiveness
Love Joy Peace and Patience

This is my anthology,
my compendium of choice
This is where I hear God's voice
This is where I hear words collide with joy
This is where words can fly

This is where you'll hear God's voice.

You see, my God is a poet.
started this after listening to 'God is a DJ'.
Nolan Willett Apr 27
Because we thought inebriation
Aided an understanding
Of metaphysical creation,
And dulled our wistful longings
That could never be fulfilled:

We turned to tablets and things distilled.

But we are poets
We see things clearly;
The only essential is artistic focus-
To distort reality;
If my body is a temple,
Then my brain is a deity.
Just not excessively
camps Feb 17
the flies drowned in the beads of sweat
rising to the occasion on my tired skin
the market felt particularly alive that day and
i tried my best to stand strong knowing
i reeked of foreigner

at the stall i traded two #2 pencils and a
pack of marlboro reds for a basket full of mangos
i asked for any item they were about to discard
and i got a notebook so old its paper
was painted yellow

the villagers told of a man who ruled at
the edge of reality in lands past life where
time was only marked by the lashes of a stinging sun
they said he knew how many grains of sand were
contained in the desert of the great beyond and
that he could throw dunes around like they were pebbles

no one is stupid enough to look for him they said
i'm stupid so i went

i trekked and trekked until trekking was no more
even the snakes and scarabs stopped at some point
the sand in my eyes sang songs to me and
every once in a while it turned my sight
into a searing kaleidoscope

i saw him in the distance he got farther away
with each step i took towards him
the winds spoke of a thousand suns laid to
rest each night of crumbling towers and of a
loneliness that stung sharp

i felt that way my skin now cracked
and my bones returning to the earth
i couldn’t even die knowing my minerals
would one day bloom for this place marked death
a solemn lonely death

a lifetime traversing so desolate a landscape
i could feel the longing in his breath and the
menacing laughter making me twice a fool
you insisted on looking for something he said
as if there was ever anything there
in my domain reflection is survival

i looked around but
there was no water to be found
lunademiere Oct 2019
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.
Proctor Ehrling Sep 2019
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.
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