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Chad Young Jan 2021
"Why do people do impure things?"
Because what is pure is disputed.
Impurity often takes the form of beauty or passion that enlivens my life
Placing the special in heart
That was once an empty lot.
"So why is it called impure?"
Because beauty and passion, like other things, can cross the line of moderation
And can take the forms of
Betterment away if carried
Into excess.
Thus, it is not so much that
There is impurity as there is extremism.
This can shape a life into one
That has stopped or not begun
Any search for the depths of life.
It is not so much that there
May be impurity
But the lack of connections
Between souls and neighbors
Which form a community
That takes responsibility
For their own spiritual, mental,
Physical, and material betterment.
r Feb 2020
Roll up! Roll up!
Examine the corrupt,
the nose, hair, the olive of skin.
Dishonourable, alloyed blood.

Rub, Rub
I can't get it off.
grate, burn, scour,
I can only cleanse, gloss, polish.

Look! Come and see
the fresh, clean impurity.
Lay on the table,
sparkling shimmering.
We cannot control these sinful things.
To all my ancestors who were persecuted for their religion and ethnicity.
co'brien Sep 2019
That all hath fall'n away impure;
That all we thought is now unsure—
This is the final cause of it,
That which we know has gone to ****—
Yet here we stay, throughout the days,
Staring into a foggy maze.
Tammy Cusick Aug 2019
Gleaming upon ashed cigarettes
the smoke of your calloused lips burning against the back of my throat like hot coals
breathing you into my lungs had never felt so relaxing and painful at the same time
Like magma across your tongue
you swallow me whole
exhaling the negative of what you left over
I am distilled, like water quenching your prudent impurity.

Flicked as if something of disposal
that's when you lay your eyes upon my flesh
Foaming at the mouth in my carnaged disarray
deadened in your pupil
I see my reflection.

Sinking your needles grip into my veins
I feel the ***** of your despair flowing in my blood platelets
Multiplying seeds of hatred in my DNA
This is who I am.

Engulfed in you
serene to your touch
getting colder at the moment
the warmth of your embrace coddles me like a mothers hold
I am helpless.

Warm honey is the color of your eyes
yet, your taste is heroine
nothing like I've ever sunk into
you've shaken me to the core
sweet and deadly
and on the floor.
Ako Mar 2019
The ghost of my childhood is lingering around the wave of impurity. The more I imagine, the more I drown in my own misfortune.
And so, the life of an exile strives around his sin.
Jane Dec 2018
Dust, in the air
unseen impurity.

The spectrum of humanity, good and bad.
Black and white.

Being submerged in the black feels unnatural, unlike me.

I'm calling on my star for something unattainable,
pushed under the carpet.

It's presence sparkled when I saw a child laughing at the sky.  


To wear blue, and feel serene,
To wear yellow, and feel joy,
To wear pink, and feel love,
To wear purple, and feel life.

I used to wear Innocence.

I dress differently now,

I wear emerald green, and feel anxious,
I wear a cloudy grey, and feel impersonal.
I wear stained white, and feel everything
I wear only black, and feel nothing.

I wear sin now.

I'm all the things I once wished upon a star not to be.
Viseract Jun 2016
Red ink through clear water
Tendrils, wisps

Red ink spreading
Water no longer clear
Fingers stained with impurity

Isn't it a sin to cut?
just something I thought of off the top of my head. Picture it, if you want/can
F Tagayun Apr 2016
Little Mistress of Disguise
She runs and runs and always hides
When she talks, she tells you lies
She never looks you in the eyes

You never know what lies within
It may be pure, it may be sin
She might be looking through that door
She might be listening through the floor

Little Mistress of Disguise
O, how she says such pretty lies!
Pretty lies about the world
Pretty lies to all she's told

Through this let you listen be
A person of pure honesty
Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry
Is never good in redundancy
Not if you can do it right
Do it right in every plight
Do it right and then you'll see
The truth behind her mystery
Written about a year ago. This poem is meant to awaken those being subjected to deception, to open their eyes and make them warier of their interactions. FZT
Sean Flaherty Oct 2015
So maybe I got riled up, and thought he was trying to steal my ****.

I don't work at Stop & Shop anymore, but I still
almost cried at those dogs,
on television.
The world is an impure place, but in times of trouble, you can always double your dose.

Trouble us. Forever.

As low, in your clever-minded excuses, to get out of your
parents' disapproval.
I bought so many
hallucinations, that I'm debating a few more.

Hope I remember writing these words. Scary to consider,
but there, nonetheless. The world is
melting into all sorts.
Colors, that I love.

Hope I remember writing these words, and the light,
reflecting off the ink,
in rainbows of black. The
ash, an impossibly-unforeseen consequence,
of the cigarette. The
cancer is laughed off. And you had forgotten my name.

Cutting up the canvas, she called it, "blood," even though, by a trained-eye, it lacked.  
Any tactic will take flight.
Take care to catch yourself when your wax melts onto your owned face.
Not your practiced one.
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