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TheWitheredSoul Mar 2022
And the prophecy calls me a heretic for claiming that the wider vision puts the hoax as a pursuit of distraction for herds to follow and while distractions, distractions are the ones that keeps the inner animals at bay, for all we are, are animals with distractions. Claiming to follow the noblest of all paths that are laid bare, before eyes, Eyes that lack vision, eyes that don't see beyond.

For Its a curse that i bare witness to and cross that I owe for letting the sheep's that are gutted for its shallow thoughts and fleeting distractions. I wish, I could unsee all that I see. I wish, I saw no pattern. I wish, the bigger picture was forever hidden and be gutted as one among the many.
Sungmoo Bae Aug 2020
Woe to the being
in its brilliance ever illuminating,
ever since it was brought out to this world

full of wonders
—you might’ve thought as such, at first—
to your initial senses
just born into the earth.
Stellar you are, and they regarded you such at first,

but considered as a constellation baffling,
soon after, thus celestial, irritating
    to their perception  
    —belonging to none
    of the earth; heathen you’ve been,

    and so that’s why, I see,
    you’re deemed a heretic.

Looking around,
you walk on the heaven’s arc
painted in all its auroral glory,

    ever yearning
    for the only answer they might give you someday:

    to which stars
    the people of the earth
    give their praises so pristine.
(C) Copyright: Saul Bae (Sungmoo Bae)
Ken Pepiton Jun 2019
you tellem I never owed God nothin'
or He's a liar.

So, it ain't no debt t' God what Jesus called Our Father,

in theithereal-orgnot heaven of heavenly places

from PIE root *kailo- "whole, uninjured, of good omen" (see health). 
is yur name,

give us, we ax ye, this day plenty enough
It ain't no debt we all owe our father who it seems,
if you can belive it, is known
to have give us defined rights we can't loose.
So it must be money debt we be axin
for give and for get, two words diffi-cult for me, but your knowing my
ever intention assumed, I pray on but

add a deal,
based on my believing you in me is all I need to pull my weight,

do to me as I do to others, I dare you. Oops
forgive our, our, Jesus said, our, (He surely was debt-free, to God, right)

debt to anybody or thing, not you, cause the reconcilin' was done,

the angels, messengers to earth from God knows where,

they say. Peace, on earth. God and the disconnected reconnected.

At the first breath, God knew, ah
this is why iyob refered me to the flesh as an experience ungodly,
by design, as it were.
A glitch.
Well now. We know. All fixed. Fret not. The crossed wires were

the insulation needed an upgrade anyway,
it is finished. Listen.
Clear signal right? Quiet,

Think what peace on earth would feel like, imagine

having a one eight-billionth part
in making that happen,

by being peaceful in your self, in a noisy moment of
interesting time

when odd ceased meaning untouchable and
truth as a way of life made peace

with all our reasons for war, once honored by faith in a lie

cold-cocked by the reason for the faith in me.
I heard the first line, and imagined an elderly black lady who sold mulberry colored hats in 1961, on main street Plaquimene, La., sayin to white boy, me Now, you listen, and she tol' me what a froward mout can do. I think I recall sayin' I'd watch it, my froward moth.
Alek Mielnikow Mar 2019
I don’t often act against the wishes
of the Gods (tough to beat they are).
​But when as captivating a woman,
​she who beckons me far from my senses,
asks me to break from my heritage,
​I gladly fill the role of the heretic.

Aleksander Mielnikow
I wrote this poem with a specific woman in mind. I'm not going to reveal who she was, so really, there's no point in me writing this note, or you reading it. But, I did, you did, and it's the truth.

— The End —