Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nissim Apr 26
Ever since I was a child I've listened to the whispers,
Those whispers reverberating within me.
And I've submitted to those whispers during timeless moments of
my life.
And I became a citizen of the Eternal Realm.

And during my forays in the Eternal Kingdom,
I saw a new age soon to dawn upon humanity.
It is the age prophesied so long ago by all religions.
It is the Age Of Aquarius.
It is the Age of Messiah.
It is the the Second Coming for those who believe there was a first.
It is the age I call the Third.

And I saw Jerusalem,
The shining city of Zion atop a hill.
But in the Eternal Kingdom it is not a city of brick and mortar,
It is a city of the spirit's yearning and of effervescent light.
And the whispers lingered within me.
And they proclaimed, with the final trumpeting of a ram's horn,
The coming Third Age,
When all of the Earth will become the city of Zion,
A Jerusalem spread from pole to pole,
And around the great circles of our world.

But before the Third Age can dawn,
Jerusalem, that shining city of Zion atop a hill,
must be gifted to the world,
So that no one nation shall exercise dominion over it,
Only humanity's shared Soul.

Before the messianic age dawns the third temple must be rebuilt,
But all of Jerusalem is that third temple,
And the rebuilding is its gifting to the world.
In the Eternal Kingdom it is not a temple of brick and mortar,
That is just its shadow on the cave's wall.
And once that rebuild comes to pass,
Then the Third Age will explode in all directions,
From out of Jerusalem, ground zero,
And it will ripple across the lands and the waters,
And it will reach every kingdom and every nation.
It will become sharded into our shared soul,
And the Third Age will then dawn.
JGuberman Apr 20
The enemy, like god is all around us
And god lifts not a finger to stop it
Or answer the prayers of any supplicant
Like Nadav and Avihu
When ‘heavenly fire entered their nostrils
And burned their souls’*
Such fire burns hot and is unquenched
And we thirst for a salvation,
And though it is tarrying
We still believe,
That science will be our messiah
And god a luxury
We can return to
Once we can think again
About something other than survival.
*Rashi (CE 1040-1105)
Everything I once knew has been stilled:

I fathomed my mother’s voice whispering
In my juvenescence,
She weaved a tapestry of tales
Whilst her pearlescent eyes
They glistened,
Enveloped by downy lashes
Ebony and yet unassuming
The night domineered.
Unblemished enough to
Garner the praise
In the clarity of
My reverential heart,
As I lay there
Tucked in,
Once peacefully,
Yet now shaken
The disquietude
Of the restless twilight,
Upon an azure king-sized mattress
Primped in creaseless Space Jam sheets.

They were set by
The grace of her manicured hands
However slightly,
Chestnut and replete
That longed to,
By the Blessed Oracle
Speaking with a God,
Summon the Salvation
Of my long lost rest
That Raged Leviathan
To be cocooned in The Sea of Shadows
The thew of dreams would be born.

She sanctified my fears
Like coal oppressed for aeons
That Treasured Sphere
(Terraqueous Gaia)
Until by
The Womb of the Mountainous Mother,
Were reborn
As the Children of Diamonds.

Or perhaps
Like a baptismal kiss
That floweth from an ivory chalice
By which
The soil of my life flowered,
For a quaked youth was
With a fading taste
Of the transcendence at dawn
Poured upon my palate
The Garden of the Valiant
Bursted into bloom.
(Tis where the Behemoth lay nestled
Under the Age Old Tree of Life
And Sylphs soar beneath iridescent twilit skies
Illuminated by Providence
Of the Half-Faced Crimson Moon).

If I so chose
I could
Be anything
I imagined, even

Ephemeral though
Those moments were
My reminiscence
Doth memorialize in crystal stasis
My infantile longing,
Tis ceaseless in its yearning
To be comforted
Pangs overtake me:

But what fable is my weapon
The Hallowed Excalibur,
Or perhaps even The Ultima Weapon
With the Impenetrable Aegis
Imparted by
The Mighty Crystal
Bestowing might to its Anointed
The ones who war with their own iniquity,
Until their paths align
Like celestial bodies
And they’ve arisen triumphant,
Eclipsed the fictitious light
Of a false deity
Who besmirched the truths
That upheld The Cosmos
Since its genesis?

There is one tale,
(Lean in, listen closely,
This is my Susurrus in the Night)
Tis no figment
And one I found most favorable,
One of a man
And high over all but
The Desideratum of the Holy,
The one to whom
Even the angels, seraphs, and cherubs bow.

He was scourged
In flesh and spirit
Till his pulse was silenced,
His inestimable blood
Prophesied to vanquish
Chaos and
The Futile Wind
Of life
That by
By the disobedience of
Tarnished Father,
Is now
An accursed child

Is effaced by
(For Sorrow has no end)
Tormented by Space.
And depth,
O that Existential Fabric)
His caverns
Condemned Her

The thought of solitude
Looming in mortality
Were the dreadful horns
Of an Auroch that
Her consciousness
Until by
Proud Oppression
In its frailty
Was a dandelion
Strewn by skinless hands
Against the immaterial
Brush of the breeze.

To flourish then
Wax and
Was a fate
That our God intended.
For eternity shines and
Is a supernova
In the galaxy of our hearts
And though undiscerned
By many
Has always been
Will always be
The Cherished Wish of the Stars,
For though we are an exhalation
By contradistinction,
Even they become nebulous
Fading into dust.

We shall
Exalted and ennobled
Even to these who are
Of the luminaries,
Brothers and sisters
Without Ears,
Or minds.

(These vibrations resonate from the Cosmo-Plexus of Love)
Soon enough they say,
Soon enough.
Hey guys, this poem is written as a thematic embodiment of a religious-based autobiographical piece I am in the process of assembling (It will be a metaphorical interlude if you will in between two segments of the piece and thus act as a segue). It was written as a free-verse piece. I have not written in about a month which has given me time to reflect and introspectively examine the Universe around me; consequently, I hope that you guys can perceive my metamorphosis in my month long cocooning as a writer. I wanted to encapsulate the whimsicality, fancifulness, and innocence of youth by incorporating myth, imagery, and imagination (almost reminiscent of a fairy-tale whispered to a child before bed, hence the title "A Susurrus in the Night"). I kind of rushed putting this out because I was so eager to share with you guys, so forgive me if it's not as refined as my usual writings. *Since posting I have edited it on this website* I this does not convolute and thus make it less understandable! I have so much to say through this piece! Thank you so much for your support and God bless!
Nolan Willett Jun 2019
In ancient unenlightened days,
There came a man whose triumph would’ve laid
Foundations for a better world,
Our inner compassions unfurled.
For we thought we found a holy seer,
To rid our lives of all our fear,
To tell us what to say and what to think
What to do and what to drink.
He did his best,
I can attest,
To warn us of that one,
Who would see all our progress undone.
Indeed, many in our history have been
Told what constitutes sin,
Left with a hurtful scar,
By one who never wandered very far.
And our true messiah saw
This prophet for a gaping maw,
Another of the tempter’s tricks,
A man whose touch could heal the sick.
For he loved God more than most
But found him in the cosmos,
Our divine provenance,
Rooted in collective consciousness,
Not an oath to take or die
Or a being to mollify,
Nor any kind of credo,
But an universal ego.
Heeding logic over gullibility
He recognized the liability,
One who would see them die for naught,
And stray them from the insight they sought.
But in trying to break the cycle
He heralded its arrival,
Enshrining the sun,
Of the cursed three-in-one.
He made a martyr
And thus followed generational slaughter.
Promising sacred haven,
Causing war and famine.
For deceivers are known to appear as savior,
For them there is no pleasure greater,
In casting down the righteous,
And rendering them mindless.
And so millennia could have been spared
From some cruelty our kind have shared-
So long and so onerous, never ending-
And our pity’s rending.
The earth’s inhabitants coalesced,
No longer their souls oppressed,
Saved from prejudice,
Alas, poor Judas.
Sorry I published this a couple times I had to fix some things and I like it so
Ylzm Apr 2019
The Jews searched long and hard
for signs of their Messiah's coming
but when he arrived as prophesied
they traded their King for a thief.

The Evangelicals love their bibles
Proud they see, for the Light has come
And not as Jews for they're true Israel,
Desirous as Eve, they hasten the Apocalypse.

The Evangelicals searched long and hard
for signs of their Messiah's return,
the lawless one arrived as prophesied
and they made him King.

If the Chosen suffered the Holocaust,
how can anyone escape chastisement too?
Boris Sitnikoff Mar 2019
[This stream of thought
trying to break through
the dam of unrighteous suffering
is frankly authentic
with its meaty texture
and forthcoming frame.]

(I can realize that there isn't a body in the world
that can take in sunlight
so vigorously as you,
my sweet and undeniable,
without you there is still hope and completeness
but not as much music in my ears,
my dear one.)

{How can I take the goodness of suffering on the cross
without freeing my joy
above every tree of life
there is a Man
named Jesus of Nazareth
Who is with all in all and through all and all all all all all all all

Desire Mar 2019
I have learned to forgive, but how can I forget?
The memories are there, stabbing me like a bayonet.
I heard them say, "we were called not to live in any fear."
But so many fear to live the life they're called to - this is weird.
So much for being different. So much for being you.
Good luck following the trend & doing what they tell you to.
But I'm not gonna bash or talk trash or even laugh.
I'll be the first to admit, I've chased acceptance in my past,
but conviction made me sleepless. Something shook my spirit.
So I walked out of my comfort zone; a misfit on a mission...
[Messiah's Misfits]
1 Corinthians 4
1 Corinthians 4
1 Corinthians 4
Alyssa Underwood Jan 2017
"But who do you say that I am?"  ~ Jesus Christ
Luke 9:20
Gods1son Aug 2018
This world is in a mess
I refused to be depressed
Just too many happenings to digest
Oh my God, this is too much stress!

True people are rare as a Unicorn
Maybe beautiful souls are yet to be born
Or dead in the tomb
Are we corrupted from the womb?

Selfishness is the order of the day
We care less if it doesn't pay
All I see is mere pretence
Been a while, I heard a true sentence

I cry, we need a Messiah
I lie, we are the messiahs
A better world starts with me
And continues with you

We are "messiahs"
ConnectHook Apr 2018
Rise from your grave. It's Easter Sunday
two-thousand eighteen years A.D.
Spread the word with hashtag/twit-feed;
make it cute.   No urgency . . .

Fluffy pinks, chick-yellow duckies
Nestléd eggs and pastel notes
just might charm those raging hordes
who long to slit some Christian throats.

Virtue-signal while you're shopping
Watch the game and charge your phone.
Allah's bunnies won't stop hopping
Till they make your land their own.

Sweeten up your springtime idols'
pastel poison. Drain the dregs:
Antichrist is here to offer
jellybeans and chocolate eggs;

Sweet untruths with trinkets given
lying in the plastic grass.
Easter morning, market-driven—
Christ is risen . . .   kiss my ***.
Next page