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Chad Young Feb 2021
The purity must be cast aside to see God equal in all people.
For all are unified in station and wealth in rank before God, none more righteous nor more rich than another.
In this case God enriches all of us in our lack and withholds in our fortune.
For none is self-sufficient without Him.
Purity is more about the strength of desire.
It is easy to remain pure when its fires are not enflamed.
What does purity and righteousness hold?
It can only be detachment from the world.
The "world" meaning that which takes us from our Lord.
Is it right to delight in purity?
It seems so empty in a world with so few single women my age that doesn't have kids nor does drugs.
I actually don't even know one. Really.
I'm pure for myself then only?
To delight in my righteousness to only belittle the feeble?
To stand as a noble eunich with the ****** 40 & 50 somethings?
If I'm pure, I have no home in the dust.
I have no friend to share in purity.
Purity is outward.
How do I perceive reality with outward orientation?
Pure ways become my mantra.
Not just chaste eyes, but a pure body.
I become enslaved to worship my own body.
My outer body has no significance to me.
I smoke cigarettes to fight my eyes from transfixing on it.
I postpone workouts until not my body but my energy is in need of vitality.
I tattoo my skin to break the idol of the body.
Sitting up at 3:33 a.m.
Moss M Jacques Jan 2021
A Poem-tribute to Star Wars.  

     "Those manipulating the takeover of Humanity will fail."
                                                             Catherine Austin Fitts            

You’re spreading your tentacles
into galactic territories
Like a stubborn octopus falsely
Believing owning the whole sea
You spur chaos and personify chaos
To shrink the celestial Chronos
To usurp the balance of the equilibrium
But arising from the ashes of chaos
To look at you straight in the eyes
Standing flat-footed on the Eternal Light
Dusting off the false paradigm
Of life and death
The real heroes of humankind
Here they come
The rebels
The revolutionaries
The true believers
The freedom fighters
The peacebuilders
The radical thinkers
The justice warriors
The non-conformists
The non-conventionals
The Most High God worshipers.

Here they come
You enrobe yourself
With the magnificence of your pride
Skillfully branding us as the enemy
But what we see
Between the heavenly opaque veil
It’s the fall of attraction.
Your arrogance
And your self-aggrandizement
Against the Truth
Are color-coded keys to your downfall.

Here they come
Watch what happens
You didn’t see it coming.
© 2021copyrighted material provided for educational purposes only.
Carlo C Gomez Oct 2020
Our inheritance
is loss

I don't care
about liberation

Freedom is
the ignis fatuus

Everyone's a slave
to something
Kirah Jul 2020
And one day, when you've tried enough,
When you have said sorry again and again,
fly off like a bird and hide in the thicks,
And only let out your song to the world.
DeVaughn Station Jun 2020
They set us so carelessly upon the trees;
despite our wails, screams, and pleas, we
become dying fruit for the fleas.
Institutionalized and criminalized, we live a life of fear.
They sneer, jeer at the sight of us at life’s rear.
Our plight against contempt makes for a militant man
as we just try to be as real as we can.
To them, our efforts are never enough,
for them, our pain is never enough.
We strive for equality, liberty, happiness, and life.
In turn, we receive hatred, anger, and strife.
Murdered and ***** and torn next to our loved ones.
In response, we give a passion greater than the Sun’s.
All of our lives, we have had to fight.
Striking back against their wrath, destroying their blight.

They set us so wrongly upon their boat;
after we are spent, we are set to float.
I wonder about real life,
“What does it feel like?”
Torment should not be equal to pigment,
and there is nothing to warrant such abhorrent torrents.
We are not equal and never have been the same.
When we speak out, we are silenced; liberty too tamed.
They set us so harshly upon the pyre;
the extermination of desire,
the death of liberty as a killing fire.
August  29, 2017: We are being stabbed but not by the kings of the Earth. Now it’s ****** from reprehensible opportunists that want all the rhythm and none of the blues.
Dreamer Feb 2018
She was like a cigarette. I put my lips on her, and suddenly I was immersed in her devine taste. Like a winston cigarette, I ****** her blueberries. Never in my life I felt that great. However, she vanished like smoke and ashes from my life and I was left with stub. Initial couple of days, I felt so tormented. However, later I understood, it was never love between us, it was only an enslavement, merely an addiction
How unprepared I was when midnight approached me by
Emission of vivid green neon lights
From the futuristic skyscrapers to my unworldly eyes
But more imposing
A suspended meteor in the sky
Upon the decrepit city which never stood
My arrival at Midnight City, my peculiar neighborhood
Thumping tracks and frantic sirens
Bombard tremendous fear in my senses
Amid the resonating pantomime that cracks throughout my head
Merciless cyborgs arrive from nowhere
And threaten mankind with unthinkable weapons
Their bleak empty eyes bring dogmatic order
As my escalated fears enslave me well
Inside the mechanical serpent that darts
With endless slick demented rails
On such a twisted mind, it begins to run
Confused and addled, I have no control of this matter
Only worries dwell my mind
The arrival of this mysterious force is my greatest baffle
Does this herald the degeneration of Gaia?
What is this complex machinery that enslaves all men?
Where does this designate human posterity and fate?
What was done for an act of retribution?
Does this unprecedented apocalypse null all human solutions?

In this dark tunnel, on a decrepit couch
The dauntless train begins to screech with endless laughter
As it tears tempestuously faster and faster
Until all unearthly fluorescent lights blend together
Thumping tracks and frantic sirens
Eighty-six notches louder
Alternating flashes of red and green
Fourteen seconds prior
A silhouette of a white demon projects from afar
As it begins to approach us, its image ever becomes so bizarre
Add a second of suspended silence of jest
Before we scream and ensue
The fatal crash
This poem is based on an epic nightmare I had years ago.

John Archievald Gotera © 2012 - 2015
Pink Hat Aug 2014
Your contours that mark the sand
Depresses the earth into an outline
You are traces of a man
Hollowed out by the horror of your pain

Oh! Son of man, where is ye shame?
You are bound like an ox to a chain
Your body sways like a pendulum
As you lower and  harvest their grain

Chains bind you to your fellow men
So that feet that once ran move now in defeat
They motion as a reminder of your labours
And the bond you have with your captors

Liberty, justice and all that was good
You were made to abandon for a morsel of food
"Yes Master, no Master, three bags full Master"
Baa the woolly sheep bleated in surrender.

Why let the dust of your labours
That fill the air with its derision
Settle willingly on your once dark skin
Mixing your blackness into a confusion

Black is the colour of your conscience
Black was the colour of your rituals
Black feet ran and black hands played
Black babies were the dawn of a new age

You let that slip through your fears
Your memory blurred by ashes
Your brain that incinerated your courage
Condemned you to the life of a savage

Rise up, son of man who fears freedom
Your traces will have no roots
An outline of your existence
Is a hollow grave without its occupant

Don't preach the Bible as your saviour
Unless you have more to offer
Don't mark your  history by enslavement
And the heritage you were made to abandon

That chain that links your past
To a future that is bleak
Is a God of eternal bonds
Secured by your hidden Masters

Your children dance in the shadows of your enslavement
Morphing  your chains into a cross
A freedom founded on great men and courage
Is short-lived by bitter recriminations

The ghettos, the drugs, the guns and deaths
The rap that is the anthem of your anger
Makes a chain between right hand and left
As your youth disappears  forever

— The End —