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Jordan Gee Nov 2021
Heaven is an Eye fixed atop a triangle
embossed along panes of stained glass
in a burst of color and
embedded on a transom above
an arrangement of young Amish girls -
one of them flipping me the bird.
white bonnets shining inside the dark street
and red reflections of the night.

God is in a mirror
reflected across one thousand other mirrors
held by a single hand and adjusted thereby
so that the light would be refracted through
a bent corridor in time
bending and extending through
far away dimensions that
i don't even know about.

Beauty lies in the 6 skinny trees
i water on the fifth day
drinking coffee when i see
one thousand rose petals drying
like the shores of the salton sea
and the six trees like a
hexagram of six dragons
like Heaven over Heaven in the sky.

one time I saw this image in my mind
when i closed my eyes
a vision of fire shaped like a phoenix
burned across the red horizon of my mind.
beyond the black behind the lids of my eyes
there is a red horizon over inner city deserts,
bird beaks buried in the sand.

I must honor the body’s lived experience
yet not give it any credence over Spirit.
its like i was being taken over and consumed
by a Greater Being.
it pressed all my memories up against hard glass.
different angles through extra spectrums -
it was raining hard prisms
It was like laser beams everywhere.
like heaven over heaven in the sky.

I was ripping off layers like a nest
of ten rattlesnakes tangled up in braided rope.
now there are magnets that float around inside my head.
there are times i don’t know if I’m doing the thinking - or the listening -
or whose doing the talking but
there are magnets floating in my cerebral spinal fluid
and they are electric and they are on fire.
and if i only had binoculars then I could see the singularity,
the gift of eternal life at the eschaton.

Heaven is the wind that lifts me up by the insides.
i  relax so deeply into the present sometimes
i forget to breathe -
were it not for the magnets inside my spine
pulling me toward the singularity and
the eschaton and the Bright Lights.

there are such amazing playlists on spotify
artists and genres i’ve never even heard of.
thank God someone figured out what
these emotions sound like.
benedictions in southern pennsylvania
on the JBL charge 4
and i think i’m starting to accept
that life in the earth plane is
a baptism by electric fire.

Glory be to God in the highest for
sending me His messenger
winging words made of silver helix
strands of vibrating concept complexes
so the mercury can bring the sulfur to the salt.

I throw my head back and laugh like a junkyard dog.
i’ve been searching for the philosopher’s stone for years!
i just called the chase by other names
and searched for it where i thought it was to be found,
where they told me it would be:
court street and MLK blvd, Newark, NJ,
trap house, Grant St, Hazelton, PA,
the American Club, red light district, Agana, Guam.
somewhere in the Pacific or a fist full of wax bags
from my partner ****’ down pembroke outside bethlehem, PA
and a ten pack of clean B and Ds, small gauge,
waiting for me on his kitchen table.
Heaven over Heaven in the sky.

I checked my phone over three hundred times today.
mostly this is a wretched habit of unconscious hand but
quite often the Everywhere Spirit gives me personalized
messages of rapid ascension via all the “woke” social media handles.
there is a fire inside my heart and it burns me from the inside.
sometimes it opens so wide you can fit the whole world in there
and not lose any elbow room.
and the magnets carry me to the tallest pedestal in the
sky where everyone can hear and
i tell them everything is going to be ok.
i’ve seen the bad path and i’ve walked it
and God placed magnets in my blood and
i made it back alive and all the church bells are ringing.

the Holy Ghosts of our ancestors rejoice for the
cutting of the silver chords so they can
all fly away home to heaven.
and through the grave yards that lost their church bells with the churches
i walk with bells in my hands and i ring them so
that all the ghosts can go home.

we had a heart opener one night.
we all sat around the floor and opened our hearts for each other.
they opened so wide that it rained electric fire to
where everyone could see it and that makes
for a good memory.
but nothing is as it seems,
nor is it otherwise
and my heart can suddenly slam closed like
the cellar door of leatherface’s texas prairie
subterranean basement lair.
and i’ve been there before
but the fire in my heart shines upon the faces
of the all devil’s dark armada
and they don’t scare me anymore,
such is the brilliance of the flame,
and such is the pull of the magnets god placed inside my blood.

its been more than ten winters since court street, newark.
but to this day i think sometimes about
that frozen cat lying by the curb.
stiff from all the jersey winter night prowlin
freezing up it’s blood.
my heart was closed that day,
hiding all my fire.
but if I saw that cat today, why…
i would open my heart so wide that
winter would be no more and
all the frozen hearts of our fathers and our mothers
would burst wide with such love that
the Earth would tremble and all the
neutron stars would shoot across the
red horizons of our mind
and the light of heaven would be
reflected in the mirrors of our eyes.
and this light would be so bright that
all the archangels and the devas would
be out of a job.

God is in the pinprick of light
fastened to the back of the
long tunnels of my eyes.
God is in the space after the release
of my preoccupation with the opinions others hold of me
God is in the street light shining on an
amish girl flipping me the bird.

By Jordan Gee
those who to Earth from Heaven came.
Odd Odyssey Poet Nov 2021
This pen is feeling heavy;
Writing out this weighing letter.

Writing my lyrics to the Heavens;
wondering if they'll get the message.
I won't waste on pretending. It feels
Like you've blocked the entrance.
Often you seem to forget us, as the
Devil is always out to get us.

Given a shorthand,
As it feels little for change.
And it's so sad, what you have left
Is out for game. As we're out for
Gain, straight after we call your name.

My off thoughts, in odds of
Dreaming, screaming in my head;
While battling it's demons. Deep
Thoughts, and their sunken eyes
Inside my hollow pit in my skull.
Trying my best to seem calm, stuck
In the depth of my head, as I won't try
To pretend. In it's dark abyss, a rose
Inside a grave feels more like a
                                Pretty death.

Chest beating, my emotions themselves
Could be bleeding, or leaking.
On this paper I pen wrinkles,
And leave so many stains.

I'm a tyre swing, tired of it.
Rolling over to a newest trend;
Spinning in the wheel of life, going
Round in it's constant circles, as
Everything in it tries to hurt us.

Could you point me out to a purpose.
Showing interest in my life. Truly
You could make a prophet. And let's,
Word out our blessings, instead of
Counting our losses.

I do hope you get this message.

Sincerely signed;

A child down on Earth,
Looking up to Heaven.
Elymaïs Nov 2021
On the seventh day he rested, but
Before he did, he selected a little
Piece called "Benton", and there's
Where he put heaven.
Merlie T Nov 2021
The sky cries
While the sun shines behind
Is it you up in Heaven
Grieving us so?
I S A A C Nov 2021
Am I a demon?
That is what they're saying
Am I ******* Satan?
Or is Satan ******* me?
Am I the gay best friend, is that all I am?
I can be sassy, flamboyant but never enough to really defend
from the arrows and throes of men
So tell me what I am
tell me what I got to be
So tell me what I am
tell me what is stopping me
From Heaven's end, even if I repent?
Will my sins not be cleansed in the sea
There is not much difference in sin from you to me
Odd Odyssey Poet Oct 2021
And where evil rests'
Lies their hands:
As lust appears in eyes'
They've all tasted it's flesh:
And what came of heart'
Twas the blood of Man' scars.

Under the first sun'
We've risen from dust;
From bone, woman to flesh
And what hung under fruit'
Twas the taste of it's sin.

In the open dry land'
Were two of one womb;
One of worship, other jealousy:
For when the latter grew'
Twas the stone that killed.

So man' sin continued on:

As for it's sake;
The Earth needed a piece of God'
For their sins to branch off;
His child placed on wooden Cross.

And so-
Heaven's fallen flower; Rose.
snipes Oct 2021
Beautiful Soul tunes booming
A dance with the devil looming
****** tendencies, stop assuming
Only one way to bring me down
Is with hex bags, have them drag me around
Hell on Earth by my 22 piece bringing peace
A paradox, a pair of docs couldn’t pick up on
Point blank piercing ears, hiding wounds tear
I point blanks just to introduce fear
I shoot rounds just to step with the devil’s snare
Conjure up the hellhounds for this is their heaven here
The good Lord and his reverend
An a irrelevant justice for revenge ends
I’m hell bound, show me the hellhounds
I can’t let these last few rounds go to waste now
Shofi Ahmed Oct 2021
She lived safe and sound without showing up even a hair
Donning in the body, are the flesh and bone Earth's own?
She didn't want to take that with a pinch of salt,
Fathima, the first spiritual woman
rather touched down on earth with her own!
Lived in Makkah and Madina a secret wonder
No trained eyes nor born savvy nature could uncover!

The earth, hand on the heart, never did it air,
a name she lovely held close to her chest
The mass didn't know time and again
she approached mathematically but stuck
360 degrees away behind Fathima
lived in rigid encryption!

The earth turned her mighty math most fluid
threw her mammoth weight zeroing in thin and thick
only gently as 0 and 1 rubbing over this encrypted wrap-
happened to be on her own flower bud!

Closer she pressed to propel into an opening code
revealed a solid hub, the Moon shines on her forehead,
it's on her grip but into a deep base she couldn't bottom in.
It's more airy, a pure stack of rhythms, nightingale sings,
blossoming fragrance, melodious whisper through the air
singing birds returns “This way” on every new day,
ever more time and space angle in golden spiral
in this lively one-line circle home, but not yet done
one is myriad more spiral in circle, songs in fragrance
and golden ratio dance in blossoming flower.
So revealing the code a dream never been realised
Living Fathima thus behind her intact veil showed up!

Oh more, the sun too teamed up
raising the candle from the east to the west
Even went to the length in the memory lane,
striving to remember her pristine mirror
that Fathima only once exposed
long before the heaven was born!
But none could draw a sketch of it
not in the dawn cracking fast light
nor in the mid-summer's full moonlight.

The sun went on playing chiaroscuro,
the earth's beans split,
stars leapt out off her wonder bags
on the meadows and beyond the rainbow’s end.
Yet with their enduring painting in light and dark  
let alone connecting the dots they couldn't bag
her footprint even at her death.

A millennium and half has passed masses still wish
spotting her grave is seeing the earth painting the wind.  
Not a firefly nor a butterfly in Medina knew it where
yet a name generation after generation is still a buzz!
Sayeedatun Nessa, the feminine Queen in Paradise,
Fathima shifted the feminine mystique from Earth
enwrapped it back into heaven veiled and intact
the wonder is now paradise’s gold dust!
GaryFairy Oct 2021
will the pathways that you take be a maze that you make for me
can the days that you take also be my days to take for free
will your own home safe place feel like a home base for me
will your fast and hateful race leave the hate to face for me

are the bad places you create the only way to relate for you
i may have a date to tryout my own fate so i must wait for you
is your dying day just a replay of another day's date for you
if thought was heaven's gate would that be another gate for you

will truth have any use or lies beget what lies bring to us
will the dove that dies leave a love that flies to sing to us
will the eagle's mangled wing even look like a wing to us
will the bees that are leaving at least leave a sting to us

will the faces change and the names always stay the same to us
will the things that you save seem like just a shame to us
can the game that you play leave the rules of the game to us
will you win your game by saving time and passing blame to us
Moe is coming for the eyes of the other stooges...woop woop woop woop
King tree of life hello
I'm full of dew
dripping willow me for you
Two virtual
emperors, like you
write deep sensual ink.
Striking similarities to yours;
one is owned by his wife
I ignite a phantom fate spark.
Another is one way street.
Yes I am born a self existing
yellow star, a curse a blessing.
Portal to heaven by birth chart.
But you were bridge, something
in the way you brew my wine.
Fiery red gold key my six-nine.
Then silence, gap, abyss.
Into your own ginny you are!
No longer into mine!
Your ginny of
yesterday.
~~~~~~~~~~
Me and Mrs Andrews-k
https://youtu.be/HV4Jd3muGs8
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