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a dust of the moon wipes my face and my crystal edges,
hiding from the evil eye of the world,
it was a spell without a clue,
with the shadow in the thought the death angels called,
a twilight under the eyes of the holy ghost,
the death of the long-time world,
under my eyes of cold shadows,
red arrows and dry shadows.
Jake Dockter Mar 2019
God
In her early days
Wandered
And squandered
her time doing nothing but reading
Going though the classics and trying to form a personal style
But as her professor mentioned one day, and which she jotted on the margins of her text,
It’s easy to be derivative

God feared nothing more
than being derivative
She wanted to be her own voice
And to do her own thing
And to avoid sounding like all the others
While she loved their work and poured over it, highlighting and marking her dog eared copies,
She wanted to be her own thing
Her own presence
Something new

And so stopped reading
And just walked into to the wilderness looking
And waiting
For inspiration to strike
To write a new thing

She just needed to start at the beginning
The rest would come
I want to explore God as changing and new. I don’t want this to read as trying to be edgy but I’d appreciate any thoughts.
Oskar Erikson Mar 2019
laying with blue skies
in your hair
earthy reddened clay
across your cheeks
the river in your
shoulder blades
smokey fires blooming
from your thighs
solid mountains holding
your ankles together.

You stand and smile at me from across the street
so I pray to Gaia
to be a mistake you can’t help but repeat.
mel Feb 2019
life really is sunshine and rainbows
if you wake up and choose to see it
even in the clouds hanging over our heads
and beneath all of the lonely in our beds
there is light that softy shines ahead

and it is constant

with a kaleidoscope
of colors that blossom
from pain once endured
and sunshine that follows
with just the kind of warm
that you never even knew
you’d been searching for

and eventually, when it pours
you’ll start asking for more
because you’ll feel that the growth
is worth all that you came here for

and when your heart breaks
you’ll laugh
because it always
  always
    always
grows right back
with more reason to beat
and more clarity to see

do you know what i mean?
everything has magic at its seams

you are the moment you are experiencing
and it is perfect

so sit back and enjoy the dream...
Mystic Ink Plus Jan 2019
When Buddha closed his eyes
He did not speak

Bystander tagged him
See what the attitude

The next moment
On opening his eyes
He got glow in his face
Bystander
Got no words to say

Bowed their heads
Genre: Observational
Theme: Wisdom in silence
Star BG Jan 2019
I shall live to type another day.
To ride with stallion of breath
and move on fields of verse.

To expand consciousness
jumping over huddles for freedom.

I shall live to embody my own divinity.
To touch others by reaching hand,
and dance inside dreams.

To expand consciousness
with source and receive wisdom.

Yes I shall. I will. I must,
give myself the gift of knowing who I be
To shed unwanted thoughts
and fly with etheric wings of a Pegasus.
Inspired by chat with Poet's Creek

Care to join me???
Beanie Dec 2018
oh, sinning girl,
bless me in your image,
cup my face in your hands,
pierce my soul with your eyes.

oh, sinning girl,
you put a spell on me,
took me into your charm,
wicked and sly.

oh, sinning girl,
i’m on my knees for you,
you’re holy to me,
more divine than heaven itself.

oh, sinning girl,
place your hands on mine,
they say palm to palm is a holy kiss,
and kissing you can’t be a sin.

oh, sinning girl,
you’re from the house of the rising sun,
deep down in New Orleans,
but girl you’re just a sunrise to me.

oh, sinning girl,
they’re after your head,
you aren’t holy to them,
you’re made of fire and brimstone.

oh, sinning girl,
touch me one last time,
let me remember your holiness,
oh, sinning girl.
message me if you know where the line "palm to palm is holy palmers kiss" comes from, it was the (obvious) inspiration for "they say palm to palm is a holy kiss"!
Calliope Dec 2018
Calla lilies bloomed in that field.
Each bud a was praise of emulation,
And each fallen petal was a baroque requiem.
Lia Dec 2018
Art was religion’s enemy, but nobody knew it.
Ignorance’s persecution and deception’s excommunication
are invisible marks stamped onto every wooden pallete.

What with the saints’ every feature executed with the finest human touches,
it’s divinity could not be more countoured and highlighted.
The bold kisses of sunlight onto the walls of the cathedrals
remind tense shoulders and pointed slippers how much they are adored by the universe..

while they, not as much so.

God’s fingerprints are engraved onto every human brain
for the mind is powerful enough to imagine
vast forests and fine cloth,
sweet wine and golden crusts of bread,
cherry lips and tamed silver hairs,
the softest pillows for varnished beds,
herds of sheep and gallops of mares.

The artist is glorified, admired and lusted for the deceptions it’s brushes could print onto textured paper.
Perhaps heaven’s mess sent graciously upon wiked ground,
unfertile for carrying the growth of who is gripping too lightly on the artist’s  border for beauty,
were the wrong tones of purple, blue, red, yellow, or brown.
Mystic Ink Plus Dec 2018
Most precious gift
Lord can grant
I wished for
Is YOU

For
A journey to future
Be
A
FAMILY
Genre: Experimental
Theme: Living the Dream
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