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L Feb 2020
You were sweet, yes. I won’t be the poet who compares you to honey for it, but yes. You were honey.
But not for your sweetness; honey–
Not in spite of your acid, but because of it.

You are the gods painted
in our imperfect, mortal image.

In your mortality, in your burning
In your acidic, golden eye.

Honey.



-
I wish I knew how to say it.
I wish I knew how to tell her any of it.

I wish I never would have opened my mouth, and called her perfect.
I didn't think that.
I knew she was imperfect. And I wanted to know her for it.
Poetic T Feb 2020
You know they have these,
           those groups for
people who are,
          were,
        are going through addictions.

Well I was going to one such place...
I'm not addicted not like these people.
My failings are
              light compared to those others.

I was hooked on the deity addiction,
              I was raised to believe in certain
                          noncorporal
unsubstantiated constructed fear factors.

I was for many a immature years fearful of
           what I was doing till I was 7 years old.

Questions were my maturity, I'd read that
            these man made constructs, well the
top of today were all
                      with an area of minimal distance..

                                               It was like,
the central point for god creationism,
                   who had the most followers,

who had the snakes tongue, the intellect
              to make other listen to there lies..

But so it happened, there were the old gods
   fading into obscurity..
they were real for a time,
           but the thing about time, everything dies.

But the words huddled the masses,
      you see there was a religion,
religions already around that stood the
   testament of time.

These new ones approaching gaining ground,
they were either an off shoot of
                      there disagreements,
of the word of there god not others
                                                   as they weren't real...


No there's was real, but the gods before were wrong??
                                            ok...…..

But moving on and we have the oldest religions still
around. Some have the masses where some have but a
only a few followers not as many as way back when.
Here's a quick lesson in gods and spirituality,
counting down we have:

1. Hinduism (Circa 7,000 BCE)
2. Judaism (Circa 2,000 BCE)
3.Zoroastrianism (Circa 1,500 BCE)
4. Shinto (Circa 700 BCE)
5.Buddhism (Circa 600 BCE)
Jainism (Circa 600 BCE)
Confucianism (Circa 600 BCE)
Taoism (Circa 500 BCE)

So you see that there are some old that still remain..


But the thing that people forget is that in the old times
wars were fought on the premise of there gods words
were the truth and the others were distortions not the
right word of god, gods.. look down, I know...

1.Second War of Kappel
2. Lebanese Civil War
3.The Crusades
4. Second Sudanese Civil war
5. First Sudanese Civil War
6. German Peasants’ War
7. Nigerian Civil War
8. French Wars Of Religion
9. Thirty Years’ War
10. Eighty Years’ War

I know what your thinking what the fudge has this
got to do with now, quite a lot it would seem.
We have new religions popping up, some are just
plain ***... and people follow these.

But the good thing is time is awaking the masses to
the ridicule of what these old books stood for.

Hate, Love ******, ****, intimidation to believe or
                                 pay a levy or pay with your life.

But the world is awake, more than ever.
         So I sit here in this room, listening to the
stories of what made them rescind the notion
of belief in a deity, that controlled them now
                                          they have cut the strings.  

I just hope one day that we all can look behind us
and wonder why we were so immature to think
that  these things helped us find our keys,
                         but let a child die of starvation..

if you don't see the contradiction your still blind I see...
Aquila Feb 2020
tyrannicide is a beautiful word.
it is the felling of a beast.
the anger of the insurgent hordes.
It is just as much the killing of a dictator
as it is
the killing
of a god.
modern tyrannicide
is telling the boy who sits behind me to shove a sock in it,
and not feeling guilty about it.
HWYYYYYYYY HYYWYW HHFYWIh i am in distress but its alright alright alright
Anya Jan 2020
A smile from your lips
And a bow to your hips
Never show your yellow teeth
Or remove your steel from sheath
Casually greet the gods
No matter form they come
Try not to be at odds
With all and not just some
And though you must revere
The ones you stand below
Never show rejoice or fear
Until you get to know
Liam Labbe Jan 2020
up down
trapped in churning waves
pulling you under
thunder chrashes and lightning screams
you reach for the surface
desperate

it breaks

the sea is calm
you can float
gulls sing
the sun glistens
you rest
your finger tips making patterns in the waves
ripples

is it worth the storm?

the sun turns hot
blinding
you sheild your eyes
it's not enough
the sea boils
you scream

and get pulled under

things are calm
dark
empty
the sea is dead and cold

and is taking you with it

you hear a rumble of thunder and close your eyes

you wait for the calm
Delia Grace Jan 2020
A day will come, young traveler,
When a noble king and his sickly queen
Seek your wisdom
And your guidance.
But you have none to give.

You are no hero, you are just a boy
With a satchel and a walking stick.
But you are beautiful and kind
So a hero you are dubbed
By a noble king and his sickly queen.

They dress you as a knight,
Drape their sigil on your back,
And the horse clops away.
You ride tall
Until you’re out of sight.

You are no hero, you are just a boy
With a horse and a sword.
But a crest blows behind you
So you become a hope
And the children learn your name.

How can you see what’s at your back
In the wilderness without a mirror?
Use your shield, young knight,
You’ll be stone before long
So draw your sword or face the dirt.

Your armor is much heavier than before
Or perhaps you are weaker
And your sword is aching and twitching
Against your side, writhing in its
New, painful sheen.

How can you sleep
Under the gods and the stars
When both have seen what you’ve done?
Both have heard the scream
And smelled the reek of iron on your breath.

No, you cannot face them
So you look down. You sell your horse
To a man on a farm.
You leave your armor
On the banks of a river.

For you are no hero, you are just a boy
With a satchel and a walking stick
And stains on your hands.
And the king and queen say you are lost
So they light a candle for you.

You are no hero, but you are no boy.
Your feet are weathered
And your eyes are warm with the sun.
You are not lost, young traveler,
You are exactly where you are.
12/16/19
Kenshō Jan 2020
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qV-Khs9Rqxs
Listen while reciting - Enjoy!!
-----

Alchemical Butterfly
wing in the sky
eastern diamond bay
we were born this way
everyone will cry

Shhh It's all okay
Garden of God at play
megalithic dao
mirror of now
everyone is gay

I'm tired of the human race
But have love for god
I want to leave this earth
but float among space
And look back, from a pod

Im forgetting all name and form
And feeling as if I were never born
I cannot tell if it is after or before
All is now wet, I smile as it pours
Another barrier between my place and yours

But thats okay I like it inside
Closer to my heart for my soul to untie
Where there are no clocks
because people don't have the time
Life is a lie and the truth is everyone will die

So set me free from here
the land of the sun
where people are blind
the land of the gun
where humans **** their kind

My soul is a boat
Distant from shore
Bending the horizon
onward to nevermore
no body to tote
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qV-Khs9Rqxs

listen while reciting
Dani Jan 2020
He holds a quiver of bright silver
Champion of art
Chariot of the sun
His light warms me
Brings inspiration to my mind
His unwavering support in all things good
Great healer
Bringer of sweet gentle demise
He slings his arrows
Straight into my mind
Wonderful warmth he brings
Melting my stiff heart
Letting its aches and pains fall
Onto paper to turn into beauty
A poem for Apollo
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