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Unnamed 3d
I have seen god
In the gust of wind
Between your thighs.
When the air sings
In this barren land,
I see—Ah! Ah! Ah!

There is a balloon!
Such a whimsical
Wisp tied behind it.
A vibrant globe that is.
Colorful, bright, alluring, pure—
It flies high above,
In the face of a picturesque eden.

And as it rose,
And rose,
The sky’s color shifted
From a classic blue to a salvation red.
I saw the balloon simply pop—
Ah! Ah! Ah!

Rotten dream I dreamt,
Abhorrent moist cigar I saw,
Magnificent eden I lost
And wore nothing but a cloak
After bathing in crystal clear water.
For I have seen god in heaven.
SAME Sep 2
Cloud shadows are cast over the moors.
I can see why the ancients adored,
their Gods,
against all their odds.

A tempest wind reminds me of my place.
I am just a visitor,
I am to leave with no trace,
forgive me, Gods,
against all my odds.

I feel bygone amongst these English Moors.
Of winds and sky, I envy you, for this is all yours.
bite into an apple
and it turns to dust on my tongue
constructing an illusion to try my trust

you carry a piece of me in you
and I don’t think I like it very much
the places we went
belong to you
nothing is mine
shoplifting my humor
and the rest of me too

coaxing figures in your diorama
bribes to reveal data
for you to

but you had no consequence
a knifefish in your own right
so hungry and full of electric

you always made sure we had an eager audience
I don’t think it was for them
you needed a way to create distance
while pulling me in close
a way to make us lie to ourselves about what we want

we’re far too enmeshed, even apart
still you want the words on my mind
and you’ll get off on seeing me compromised

I can smell the iron of our spilled blood
aftermath of our overflow

the garden of eden is covered in rust

you don’t believe in anything
you just hate to lose an argument
the pious are never wrong
their actions are always just

I don’t want to carry your rib
you can have it back
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.
SomaSonata Aug 19
I'm torn and wearing down
I'll leave your town without a sound
When the love is fading out
I'll crawl like a mouse
Out of sight and out of mind
It dampens my fire
***** it all out
Low down
Go down
Smoldered and shouldered
I'll play the clown
Once the garden was green
The birds chirped and sang
The light of day nurturing
An aura of peace
Love and warmth and
Milk and sweetness
And golden honey
But a babe who twisted the rules
He played the keepers for fools
Always some trouble of playing with fire
From a prodigal son into a merciless liar
He promised and swore not to open that door
But the fruit was ripe and yet tempting
Like ambrosia of yore
Sweet and spellbinding
And barbed at its core
Taunted and haunted
Bound by a contract
And the roof came crashing down...
Marri Jul 26
You take me to a field.
Overgrown with weeds, grass, and wildflowers with a mind of their own.

Our fingers make 10 promises as you lead me barefoot through the brush.

You chose a dark starry night with the moon to oversee our ventures.

Pulling me through,
I lift the hem of my dress in an attempt to save it from stains.

Your feet stop.
“This is it.”
You say.

Pulling me to my knees,
The bare ground tickles me fancy.

I look up to see you towering over me, with the moon as my witness.
You push my arms over my head,
Tugging my dress,
Shrugging it down my shoulders.

Exposing me to the Earth—
I feel everything.
The grass, the stars, your every exhale, and the hiss of a snake. (Somewhere in the night with us.)

You smile down at me, and of course,
I smile back.

I start to speak,
You push your hand over me.

“You mustn’t speak.”
I comply.

Your eyes glow yellow in the dark.
A flash of regret and guilt flutters into my heart.
“Are you sure we should do this?”

He reaches to shed his shirt, molting layer after layer,
Revealing new skin, cold to the touch.

Pressed against me, bare.
Out of the crook of his neck:
I see the stars.
Blinking, flickering, dancing for me.

Beautiful, angelic,
You create a new woman out of me.

Clearing at dirt, grabbing at grass, and gasping at the sight of seeing stars.

Crickets sing into the night, frogs croak a melodic ballad, and the birds whistle in their sleep.

A chorus of the night.
Snakes hiss join in.

You use me anyway you want.

“You mustn’t tell anyone.”
I seal my lips with the taste of a red kiss.

As the moon grows tired of the night,
The sun peaks into our world.

You lift me up, slipping my dress back onto my shoulders.
Zipping me up with ease.

I look down to see it tainted with green grass and brown Earth.

‘Was it worth it?’
I sigh, but smile.

Our hands meet again for our last ten promises as you lead me again through the brush.
Through tall grass, tired weeds, and wild flowers.

You lead me out into the sun.

“Here is where we part, my love.”

“Will I see you again?”

“Only on your darkest days.”

You kiss me again.
The shakes hiss and night choir sings. Angelic.

Eyes open—
You’re gone,
Gone with the night.

I turn for home.
(Wherever that is.)

“Where were you, my other half?”

“I was with the night.”

“What’s that in your hands, darling?”
“Show me!”

As if magic, I feel an object pressed against my palm.
(The palm that once held you.)

I slowly open up, breaking our promise.
I reveal the only remnant of our night:
A red apple.

With a fresh bite missing,
My mouth tingles wet.
IMCQ Jul 5
Take of the fruit that thrives here.
Sleep soundly in the sycamore's shade.
In time, what you've enjoyed will replenish.

Open to all.
My garden.

You may find my spiral staircase;
But do not wander beneath my Eden.
No trove exists to entice you.

Twisted alloys sprawl from floor to ceiling.
Life choked out from within its passages.
Shrapnel covered pathways and barbed footholds.

A price of iron.
My soul.

You breathe light into pallid tunnels.
Padlocks crumble under your touch.
Pave your own path through my body.

An empty auditorium, walls ascending into the void.
Center stage, a single flower encased in a ray of light.
Scentless, white, sepals of stainless steel.

It's yours now.
My heart.
It's hard not to love you when you've ignored my every obstacle.
Now take it and leave.
Qweyku Jun 30
Deception sought to beckon in the shadows,
But the wind carried the gentle lips of Wisdom,


“...only fools believe in the trickery of darkness.”

Such a fragile bridge
From dusk to dawn today
Its moorings & way too narrow,
The fingers of the heart
clinging to deceit.

Set the dew of diligence at the gate
Like the flaming sword of Eden!
Forbidding fear ingress, but
Thoroughfare to the Comely Trio;

Righteousness, Peace & Joy!

Permit the Spirit of His Kingdom
Wholly reign within.

© Qwey.ku
Dante Rocío Jun 17
czemuż liść rajskiej jabłoni,
poczuł dotyk Twej dłoni?

... A wybór ten się ziścił?
To śnięcie, podszept liści...

Czy twa cierń była nader ostra?
Ma najdroższa,
Mater Nostra

... Dnia twego dziękczynienie,
nie miało oka tchnienie...

gdy znosiłaś krwiożercze znoje,
by ochronić
dziatki Twoje.

... Za Szeolem, bez pudru
lecz z chlubą łez nagości...

Twe serce 
zmrożone w kajdany,
nie okazało miłości.

... Tak, tych palców spostrzeżeń
u męża nań spuszczonych...

Iżby stworzyć koncepcję 
niezwykle strudzony.

...Zbluzganiem, uwielbianiem,
Jest Ewą i Allahem...

Aby poczciwość dać rodzinie,
ciągle żyję
pod tym strachem.
Osobą jam nie znana,
Raczej funkcją, zadaniem
Jestem matką,
a moja profesja,
jest rodziny kochaniem.

„Od nigdy a po zawsze,
Byt, nie przeminę z wiatrem.

W honorze. W trawie. W mężczyźnie. Ostanę.”
Co-written with an acquaintance of mine, Alexandra P. of the transcending figure of the Mother, since the Eden and till the End, beyond corporeal conceptions.
Will translate to English if heavily requested (haven’t yet due to tremendous amount of rhymes and the renga’s strict structure)
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