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Val Roy Aug 26
I never listened all too well
To all the warnings on the shelf
Labels showing lots of words
None of them are of my concern

Bottles in yellowish brown and even a pink one
Beckoning me to reach for them one-by-one
The whole family bursts out laughing
As I try my hand at photographing
The person behind me who I don't know
Telling me about an important choice
But first I must buy preparations
To be ready for the incarnations

In the evening around the fire
Wood pops, unexplained desire
I take the last of the pink pills
Before entering a phase of still
Lou Vaughn Aug 16
I wish I were as powerful and beautiful and mysterious as a storm.
I want to be the biting sting and soothing saturation in every drop of rain.
I want to exist as the current of electromagnetism that surges and scintillates through every bolt of lightning.
I want to be as elusive and unpredictable as the unsettled wind.
I want there to be no doubt I AM here, no doubt I WAS here, and absolute uncertainty of my return.
As  John put it
The incarnated word,
Saint Mary was entitled
To feed Her *******
And Hold, but whom
Juda the culprit
For 30 birr sold
Is almighty God.(John 1:1John 1:12.John 8:58)

Here it should pop up
To your attention
"God is with you!"
Saint Gabriel's to
The Immaculate felicitation.

So God,
Christ is a presiding judge
An inch do not budge
Hearing shallow teachings
Quite strange
Christ killers-turned
-Christ-peddlers on many
A religious forum stage.
As Canaan, awaits
Them a curse
For trying to belittle Christ
Intent to line up their purse.

On the cross
It was the incarnated word
That allowed the repentant
Shieftan on his right
The first greenlight
To heaven of course.

Witnessing
His sons'
Polar opposite deeds
Noah better felt
The visitation of  God
In Shem's tent.(Genesis 9:18-27)

Hence God's incarnation
That still reflect
Are entitled
Membership to the tent,
Which personifies
Saint Mary
The immaculate.

Thus, as the
Chosen generation
True to
Saint Mary's prophesy
Let us echo "The Graceful
And the immaculate!"
Evading Satan's
Yet another bait.
For one who reads the unabridged bible from A to Z Jesus is the presiding judge not a semi God
Aman Aug 2019
A day came to light....
Sun smiled....
Very bright.....
Showing his happiness...
Clouds applauded....
Started the decorations.....
Everyone got on with....
The preparations....
A beautiful phenomena was....
About to occur....
Heavens laughed....
And danced with all....
Of their might.....
They knew....
Someone special....
Is about to come.....
Which will make everyone.....
Freeze and stunned....
The rainbow.....
Guided the way.....
Plants and trees......
Were all happy and hay.....
The moon was....
Seeing it all....
From the windows....
Behind the curtains.....
Then....
At last....
The moment came....
A thing of beauty......
Came down.......
Everyone was amazed....
All around....
It was a beautiful....
And lovely situation......
I guess...
An angelic.....
Incarnation....
Angel comes to earth
Chicken Feb 2019
I can smell you
just like a rose
all your petals
so delicious.

A raw moment
with every part
every layer
I can't resist.

You are insurmountable
edging near
dare not start
with
no end in sight.

Might try to stop, but
I wont, it's too late
there is nothing
that I can do.
When ya got the hots for someone. and it's that type of hots that you cannot put off, no matter what you do. no matter what anyone tells you. the idea is crazy. still got insufferable hots.

Distraction all the way home.
Avery Glows Nov 2018
Is this evolution we call—

Ppl becoming things
(so that)
things become of people;
Ppl becoming parts
(so that)
parts come tgt to
become people—?
Is that not what
all there is to life...
An act
(of)
parts masquerading as wholes
as hosts mastering over themselves
as us
at the center of this all
is the substance of reverie

;

at the core of this bawl
is the call of life.
Nov, 2018
Izlecan Feb 2018
Ecstasy mire in its own sorrow,
As if a ghost makes love to its shade.
The wooden door merely holds the knock;
Instead it punches out within the walls,
Dispersed as if a blow of clay.
There the sound hauls up a craft:
Foul of the wooden scent.
Just as it intertwines with cloisters,
The curves are lined into a  silhouette.
The mountainous fogs are sharpened,
The apex is buttoned and round.
The matter it is that shapes the core:
The mere marriage of soul and dust.
How a flesh can tease its craft,
As it gnaws on a clavicle(?)
The ghost sips on a river,
As if making love to its shade.
Prajakta Mhadnak Jan 2018
I was born from the ashes of fear, guilt and shame.
Cut me into pieces and I will grow separately from all the blood-spattered pieces of my being.
Freer than before.
I have those cuts hidden somewhere under my skin.
I still breath through unhealed wounds.
I still bleed every month.
I still believe in lies.
I still choose the wrong path.
I don't need your religion to believe in myself.
I don't need you to wipe my blood stains.
I don't need you to tell me what's right.
Not this time.
Burn me and every inch of my flesh will explode viciously to reborn again and again.
Fierce than before.
My blood is still boiling and running through my fresh veins.
I won't let you drown in the hollowness
I won't immolate myself
I won't give you a chance to carry my burned flesh.
I won't follow these path of illiberal rules.
I don't want you to compromise your love.
I don't want you to devour the poison.. alone.
I don't want you to suffer ..just because you are supposed to.
Not this time..
Not this time.
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