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Khoi-San Aug 23
A God walked on water, saving humanity
from chagrin.
Humans travel the world on soulless
rubber, treading over corpses of nature.
Ken Pepiton Feb 25
Godliness, can we imagine what that means?
can we a gree,
groupup on a time be
ing
transformed, ah, aitia!
a cause accuse,
have you considered my servant, Faust?

Why now

of all times

am I alived again? Who axed me how

Godliness, with contentment, is great gain?
When did yo'rever begin?

You play Sorry? Y'know how you land at
the right spot and
that makes the time right
to gain more than your role allows

by the rules.
Rules is tools t' keep yer atmostfears from

sending out fruiting bodies,
after the icecaps of ignorances melt.

This is one o'them Sorry places,
in reality.

Never since water recalls, though, now
I recall reading of another water
we have, ringwoodite, those memories are
petrified,
who could think 'em? Chthonic radicals from
trees of knowledge
espelliered to the western wall, while growing

free in forests, wild, whither the wind listeth, and rain falls.
listen,
Jeremiah wrote,

can you hear me now?

Earth, Earth!
Godliness, with contentment, is great gain?
Weeping Prophet?

Wouldn't you?
Timebum-
pto whenever this was first sung
Don't take yer guns t'town, son.
Leave yer guns at home...

Awake at my wake, what a gas,
all wrapped in white linen beyond the ripped drape
no curtain betwixt e certainty and me

but just a glimpse.

One time, I saw a her, an animus of a salvaged sort,

reporting a he I thought was me, was
continuing to fall,

claiming penance for vengance and **** and harsh words.
Lies, most of all...

She came in clad mit rainbows, like an angel in the Bible.
You never noticed those?
Messengers of mercy.
They're all naked, except for light,

how did you not notice those?

Jungians tend to invest heavily in dreams,
turns out,
in the long run,
by mortal measure,

dreams hold meaning longer than

wishes never letgo so far for fear o'
madness o'the Bed'lamic sort

quenching this little light, which

... can't be in dark
no light is in dark

thin light ai'n't no light. Here we are,

this light is all around about me, say

Ah,
it's in me
aitia,
once more, shall we. Give it a spin,

imagine dreaming forever of new and inter'string things,
without dying or being worthless.

Be content imaging that. Great gain. Okeh.
Act like you know forever started some time ago
and you are a character, a named character,
with archetypical friends,
in the live production of the famed Book of Life,

"Life, as much as we can aspire to"
Title pending final cast conspiracy. You're the star.
Fruit from a fine time of not watching the oscars.
AITIA The Greek word aitia (or aition ) derives from the adjective aitios, meaning "responsible," and functions as such as early as the Homeric...
Google it.
Jerrad Johnson May 2017
Have you said the sinner’s prayer? If not, do it on a dare!
Your heart does not matter, just open your mouth and chatter
Sin is not important, just say the words – the rest is unimportant!

I’ll even think for thee; just say this prayer after me!
This mantra is our way; it’s our spray and pray!
Join our fray and don’t forget to tithe, this is the method we’ve devised

Now I add another chalk mark, unaware you’re living in the dark
To my pastor I’ll proclaim all I’ve done today: brought in a dozen more strays!
I’m not sure why they don’t stay, it must be the pastor’s fault anyway.

A gospel easy to believe, just be open to receive
My pastor says I’ve got it wrong; I should open my bible before too long
Maybe I’ll find another church instead, surely he misread

Now I’m gone and his church flourishes, converts true who get their nourishment
I opened my bible today; perhaps I’ve led them astray
I hope I can undo all of this; is it too late for their bliss?
From my book, "Aimless Wanderer"
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1544626347
Mark Lecuona Apr 2016
The path is not of this earth
except when loving thy neighbor
for holy forgiveness is how we are fed

The path is not of this earth
though you wash dirt from your feet
it is your soul that remains pure

The path is not of this earth
except the memory of your savior
for his life was spent among us

The path is not of this earth
though it is in everyone you meet
for as the prophets walked so will you

The path is not of this earth
except the wood for your cross
for it is their judgment you must bear

The path is not of this earth
though the weeping of your heart
was caused by those sleeping soundly

The path is not of this earth
except to comfort them for their loss
for this is why we pray his will be done

The path is not of this earth
though where we begin is where we part
and whoever desires this path will find it
Arfah Afaqi Zia Sep 2015
If I ever had the chance to sketch a portrait,
I'd sketch a portrait of you,
Your beady grey eyes,
Your jawline,
So definite,
Your smile,
Your hair,
So surreal and breath taking.
You are perfection,
And the  best piece of art I could ever draw.
If you detect any mistake please tell me right away.
brandon nagley Jun 2015
Love is forgiving
Forgiving is love
Both
Tis love!!!

And if thou doth not haveth forgiveness with love
Than thou doth not haveth love in forgiveness!!!
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
I am in levels. Past levels. This deep, intrinsic wonderful lost, the lawlessness of its fascinating expenditure of excite. Pushing through the wild and feral snow-dusted plains and timber ridges. Like red-spotted dots breathing through the cylinders called the spine. This descends into a narrow channel of scantly clad greenish scenery in a time-soaked visionary wilderness of snow,
Our crab legs dancing down wiry purple highways, our heads could not even look backwards if we had wanted.

Furious, love-latitudes, stalking breaths thwacking fork-ended tongues into a pinkish knot buried into the first layer of organic membrane on this railway of miniature canals, showing. And their pride snuck into the elbows, shooting down each vertebrae as it stepped with great precision every ledge that the currency emphasized. The raw accumulation of stolen heart-beats rattling between the interstices of new fuel careering these red engines. Crashing with exquisite pleasure into one another.

— The End —