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Jeremy Betts Feb 4
Let's talk honestly shall we?

It's easier to have a face to face with the devil
To communicate with the dead and summon evil
Draw a circle, scratch a pentagram in the middle
With a flame dancing on the peak of a candle
Flickering at the outmost tips of the symbol
Sandle wood incent lit, hit a gong or crash symbol
Then a little rhythmic hum to conclude the opening ritual

Pretty simple

The theatrical aspect varies culture to culture
But the critical structure, the essence, the flavor
The nature of "just call and I'll be there" is there
Let's be honest here, you don't get that with prayer
You'd have better luck with a comatose soothsayer
A blind palm reader, or and end of days sandwich board holder
The one on the corner screaming about unspeakable horror

Just think about it

What do you got to do to talk to your lord and savior?
Is his policy open door?
Does he have your back while going through your personal war?
You're trying to survive the unjust life he made and you're in store for
He just stands back and tallies the score
This is straight from his written lore, though purposely vague on what's real and what's a metaphor

What are the odds you're right?

He designed you to never be able to directly interact,
Explain that
It's a wildly overlooked fact
It's what knocks his believability off track
You look at him and you go blind as a bat,
Why would he do that?
His voice will cause your ears to bleed if your head doesn't explode on first contact
He didn't have to design it like that!
The only answered prayers are those of musicians, athletes and the beautiful people who can act
The rest of us? Good luck Jack
If he hears your prayers then most of the times he's just like, "naw, fuuck that."
What's up with that?

Pretty convenient

Shying away from universally decided "just don't bring it up" topics, politics and religion of course the two biggest examples, will hurt societies (globe, country, state, county, city, town or cul-de-sac) more than it wil divide them. There's extremist on every side coming from every angle but they must not be allowed to roost at the top lest we forget how long and dire the fall would be.
Thanks for reading, I appreciate you.
Strangerous Apr 2023
Relationships of divers nations
          crystallize in Terrible Times:
alliances divide along
          Terror/Anti-Terror lines.

The paradigm is surgical:
          eradicate the cancerous cells.
So privy nations operate
          on Terror's malignant network of Hells.

The human species balances
          upon the precipice of Fate:
voices clamor on Freedom's side;
          dogma grips the side of Hate.

And one God watches, knowing They
          have and will defeat the Beast.
But who's the Beast? "It's them!" points each.
          May the best team win, the other cease.
© 2001 by Jack Morris
jǫrð Jan 29
They fear
What it is
That lies
The scope
Of their
And I wouldn't
Have been
Ready for
The path I
Have chosen
If not for being
Polarized once
The History: I was often called evil, and without conscience. They branded me with the scarlet A, and so I've returned to them the purple finger.
SpiritHeart67 Jan 25
is so quick to judge
the Fallen Angels
as god did.

First of all,
Who are you
to judge others
as god does?

I got news for you baby.
Everyone here is fallen.
If you are here,
You are Fallen.

We see in others
that which we recognize
in ourselves,
Any evil
you see in me
is simply a reflection
of what is held in thee.
For reason,
I recall.
You were frail,
Quite small.

Your body
Hung low,
Through trees of fall.

I rush,
As you're hushed in my arms.

A thrillseeker,
I am.
For your squeal
Begins to calm.

And now you land,
On the brim of the bank.

With a thump and thud,
Covered in mud,
I haul you strong,

As you're now a swimmer,
In the pond.
This poem is a lot darker than the others I have written previously. It is inspired by a murderer and his victim. I have been reading some excellent crime books recently, and this piece of writing came to mind, about the evil of people who ****. I hope you all enjoy!
CarolineSD Dec 2023
She ran until she felt only the deep burn of harshly inhaled and exhaled air raking across the exhausted pathways of her throat and lungs; until she started to see dark spots flitting in and out of her vision and her legs felt like numb pillars of concrete.

She ran on and on with small branches and sharp thistle grabbing at her arms, legs and face, leaving a sense of rubbed sand across her exposed skin.

She pummeled forward, ignoring the death of all feeling in her body, ignoring her heart’s desperate thudding, ignoring the throbbing of blood in her temples screaming, “STOP!” She deafened her ears to her own body and ran on and on, ignoring the dank, putrid mud that kicked up onto her calves and thighs.

She ran and ran and ran until, like a figure underwater, her legs ceased to yield any force against the ground and she sank, floating down, down, down to the black forest floor, first knees, then hands that could not hold her, and finally, her head thudding against the ground with an explosion of stars and the undeniable sense of giving up.

It found her soon enough. Breaking through the thick branches by the old river’s edge, it stood on four trembling legs, panting and salivating. Blood, it smelled blood. The scent was overpowering and beautiful beneath the thin skin of the gaunt little girl. She would be a meager meal, but it was desperate.

Its eyes shone yellow and ravenous through the falling dusk. The others soon followed in a rough pack of visible ribs and gray fur falling out in clumps and eyes dulled from starvation; whimpering and sniffling, too weak to gather their voices in song. The cold night reeked of the memory of wolves once strong enough to howl across the valley, a rising and falling chorus, breaking from the forest to the stars.

Alas, it was all but gone now, along with the morning birds and the great bodies of bears, motionless and decaying like ancient boulders within the belly of the woodlands and the rock-strewn foothills.

The girl was still conscious as the pack began its desperate feasting on barely more than bones.  Everything was barely more than bones, and feeble breath now, and the light that dimmed in the girl’s eyes was barely more than the snuffing of a weak candle. Everything was giving up.

All that remained on earth was red. The red. The RED. Across newsfeeds, and newspapers, and on people’s lips and endless posts on Facebook and Twitter: The RED. By the time it flew across the web, across the world, in people’s questions and conversations, it was already inextricable; already incurable. It came bit by bit. It came like venom, or repressed rage, or revenge, or justice, or Holy War. It came barely perceptible or visible, until it was everywhere and in everything, and by then, it was too late. By then, we were unredeemable.

It began with genocide and our blindness to it; the tipping point of humanity, when the sun-clad holy spirit, the Great Spirit in all things, bowed Her head and wept vast galaxies of tears, tears like falling stars, like the sound of space and time collapsing, because She saw. SHE SAW.

She saw little children with broken limbs, with bones jutting from knees, and skulls crushed like shattered, fragile flowers; little children in the arms of screaming mothers, little bodies piled upon bodies, bloodied and battered, and held up for the world to see, as if broadcast across a slideshow in the sky, and SHE SAW,

She saw the Leaders of Great Wealth and Great Power, turn their heads away and feign blindness, and from their lips SHE HEARD THEM SAY, over and over, “collateral damage.”

And She watched as the Great Leaders learned that they could horrifically, indiscriminately, and brutally slaughter the masses of little wealth and little power, as easy as culling stray dogs.

She saw that there would be no CONSEQUENCES, only “consequences;” consequences like the protests of hundreds of thousands of powerless people, or the boycotting of corporations, corporations owned by the Leaders of Great Power and Great Wealth who sat on their fat offshore bank accounts and outlasted the masses.

The masses needed food, the masses needed shelter, the masses needed healthcare, and the corporations controlled IT ALL.

Eventually, the masses would capitulate. Eventually, they would fall in line. Eventually, they did.

And that is how the Great Spirit in all things, the light of all lights, the wind through the stars, the essence of being, the sacred web of all things, began to tremble, to fall apart, to weep, to release the grief we should have ALL felt for our own cruelty, for our own capitulation to darkness.

She did it for us,

Weeping RED, a tinted light, a bitter water. Slowly, we felt it, tasted it, smelled it. We began to watch the slow dissolution of being. Leaves fell and never returned. Fat shrunk on our bodies and snow melted to rock, to pebbles, to sand, to sand in the wind, blowing away. We are called back to the beginning.

Dissolution in the red tears of God.

I watched the desperate wolf eat his very last meal. None of us had very long. He peered at me with hollowing, haunted, yellow eyes, but he had no more will to run, to fight, to ****.  The cruelty of his last hunt could not match our own cruelty to one another. One was born of desperation and hunger; the other of greed.

Greed ended our Great Dominion, and it will never return. Now, I lean my head against the giant body of a Ponderosa Pine; a pine that is yellowing and dying. I look out across the wild cliffs into the reddening sky. I have little energy left to stand. We are fading into nothingness. I ask a final question to the void below:

Grandmother, spirit of all things, heart of all hearts, the light of all lights, the wind through the stars, the essence of being, the sacred web of all things, after us, after we are all but a light and scattered dust, is there a bright dawning beyond this dissolution, this nothingness?

The wind carries a gentle voice:
Max Dec 2023
"Life is cheap,"
Said strong to weak.
"Wrong is right,"
Spoke rich to meek.
"Do none, hear none - nor speak, or see."
Evil said to divinity.
And we wonder why, when then
We do speak, that
No one seems to be listening.
Nobody Nov 2023
The whole worlds a stage
the whole world as your prey
and there you’ll watch
and there you sit and wait.

Go back to the hell where you came
you’ll never take it
you can’t have this flame.

But you can try
you can try
and blind their eyes
and watch their back
and rip em apart
and make yourself laugh.

Set em on fire
force the air so cold
smile while they burn
smile while they freeze
wanna watch em fold
wanna watch em bleed
wanna hear em cry
wanna see their spirit die.

But you won't
you won't have it.
Go back to the hell where you came
you’ll never take it
you'll never take this flame.
This is written as a song probably.
Nigdaw Nov 2023
I scream at the demons
pushing over indiscriminate objects
tripping me through clear doorways
knocking things from my feeble hands
laughing constantly in my head
like evil clowns
Jeremy Betts Feb 2018
You already know I could twist your mind like sprite did with a lemon and lime
And all it would take is the right line and the wickedest rhyme to pull you from the time you thought you were doing just fine
But nope, now you're lost in a reality as dark as mine, no shine, just grime
A slime you can't rinse off, you'll wince as you feel it intertwine and become part of your spine
An evil design, your whole being now redefined
By then it's to late to hit stop and you can't rewind, the seeds already been planted down  deep inside
Any bit of good has died, drowned out by a vicious, unnatural high tide
That there, that's the evil carnival ride
I've spied on those deepest fears that you've tried to hide
Oh how you've tried and tried to hide proof of their existence but you've lied
And you can't do that to me I'm afraid, no reason thought that you should be afraid
However, I already know that you are, I've followed the trail that you've laid
Small fears leading to large fears, some riddled with the tears you've made
The years that have strayed, the thoughts that stayed, leaving you to feel betrayed and to your dismay, here I am holdin' 'em in your face, like a winning *****
Ooooh how fear can cut deeper then the sharpest blade and aid in the all out raid
A massacre masquerade brought by a frayed being formally thought to be slayed
No blockade can keep me out when I've already seen inside, peeked through the blinds
I've seen the outlines, seen what you keep in the deepest confines, in the darkest corners it hides
A little whisper here, a short memory there is all it takes, so quickly it reminds
And draws clear lines in the sand, come to the dark side and find that it's nice over here, you may even enjoy the ride
But it looks like your little ***** have shriveled up and dried like cow hide
Left with only a plan that life denied...and your pride
But that will only provide a cockeyed stride derived from never seeing an upside
So learn to say **** it and avoid that toxified landslide
Stand here alongside me and get your mind clarified
Create your own chaos, inject a little  genocide
Post up curbside or on a hillside to watch the world burn
I know you've yearned for this your whole life, well now, it's your turn
Your life has been a pattern so let's break the mold and never return
Let me be your lantern to guide you away from the molten hot iron
Don't concern yourself with this trend, a path that's so modern
Society needs the savage people to return, don't be so ******' stubborn
Let's relearn these trates and earn your spot in history before you reach the urn
Just a little shift in alliance, embrace defiance and use it as guidance
You've taken the licks now break the silence, it's your turn for violence
What do you mean it doesn't make sense? Don't show your ignorance
Frozen in a defeated stance shooting me a confused, wide eyed glance
**** yo, now's your chance to stand in the inzone doing your own victory dance
Stumbling upon me this very moment I can gerentee wasn't by chance
No coincidence, something this life altering isn't happenstance
I'm here to shake you out of your trance and show you a new entrance
Here, I'll even hold the door open, all you have to do is walk through and advance
Come oooon, you want it back, I can see it, cut the act, I don't believe it
Grow a sack, you're gonna need it, but since you lack you won't achieve it
Look, I can't force you to do ****, that I'll admit
But only a nit wit would look at what I've laid out and not grab hold of it
Just try it out a bit and if you don't feel it we can turn it back lickidy-split
I'm gonna be honest, I can promise that until you try it I'm not fittin' to quit
People that know me woud say that I'm a stubborn ****

But I don't walk through.
I ignore the swift, slick little voice. It's not new.
There has been a few times I did, one or two....
Right, one or two dozen maybe and if I only knew.
If I only knew in the long run what those decisions would do...
I guess I would have nothing to write, nothing to say to you

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