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Dani Jan 2
There is only one true God
So I was told
All others are false
It is He that rules
It was Him who created life
Yet the old stories of others linger
Those who He has proclaimed as false
Those who came before him
He is a jealous man
Hellbent on *******
His followers wish to conquer in his name
To burn all the other gods from the sky
But they refuse to leave
They linger in myths and stories of old
His dark desires will not ***** them out
A dictator in disguise
No more say I
Bring back the gods of old
The tales of the Greeks
The hymns of the Hindus
The legends of the Egyptians
All the gods who were snuffed out
By His “holy” light
Which only cast a dark shadow upon humanity
They say God is infallible
Perfect beyond compare
All things good
All things great
Arrogance is His
The gods of old had faults and flaws
The gods of old suffered as we suffered
They are closer to humanity than Him
They are closer to the Earth than Him
I want the old gods back
They were better than Him
I was raised Catholic but later went down the path of witchcraft.  Haha woops
Kenshō Dec 2019
should be asleep
but the rain is dreaming
across the empty land
resting moonlight streaming
edge of midnight's ocean
my criticism is blunted
moments frozen in motion
why can't we see everyone
as children and spirits

should be asleep
after all gods curves
are deep and steep
and i am astray and small
i've lost hours of mine
and been late yet
i didn't have a date set
or have the time
we are all running so fast

should be asleep
one last thing before i dream
'nd join the rain in dance
is that the universe knows
much more than it seems
'nd you are sharper in trance
as we all doze
planet earth slows
we find nightly death
as divine cosmic breath
births the expanse
written to
Amber Phoenix Dec 2019
Darling bright, o’ earthly child,
I see thy mind a burden wild.
This day, certes, thee did thy best,
Wherefore t's time to take a rest.
Each day the sun breaks a new dawn.
We’re all in some way reborn.
Darling bright, o’ earthly child,
Take here my blessings for the night.
Kenshō Nov 2019
Listen and recite on tempo with the space between preferably

Let us sneak past the beholders
And fall through the hedge

Twist and tuck your shoulders
Careful not to slip the ledge

Where that speaking plant rose
'Till all noise is scant

Pass the root that slows
'Nd Keep the leaf that quickens

Follow the vine that goes
Passed the sign of picking

When the lone holt rises
And the deep mire thickens

There are three stones stricken
Standing of similar sizes

There it is the time of all ages
'Nd it doesn't matter what your age is

Where the wind flower is always a toss
And where the rocks are growing on moss

I have had it with signs and maps
At this next crossroad I will try to get lost

Nothing feels familiar and I've lost all name
Here life feels only a process, maybe a game..

I'm feeling wayward
I hope you are feeling the same

Forget all clocks
We will look in each others eyes to tell time

Forget all forms
The great Dao is a mirror and you are a mime

Whistle 'gypsy' to meet a sekret of my kind
Passage to a garden of thistle and thyme

five fold colors from the canopy above
rest warm and low on the mushroom land of love

With draping crowns of brugmansia
and fragile ground of foxglove

tip toe the maze and careful where she lept
for where she landed is where many had wept

the life giving rivers we swim
are the same some were sweptt

or have you ever thought
that where you are now is where once a soul's body was left?

where one is complete
another in this life is bereft

so respekt what beyond that hedge lies
everything may be separate now, but everything is one when it dies

And if I were to shapeshift into a fish
my swirling ocean, i would call my sky

And if that fish had one wish
Would be that the world would never run dry

See your spells of intention and what you imply
dictates what your world is run by

And that is beautiful
no one can deny

But quick! cover with the shade of mind
because beholders of beauty are everywhere
yet some give the evil eye

so I shade with the hedge of night
And gaze with my third of sight

so my body can be hidden
and my soul in soaring flight

Because something in the air in the city doenst feel right
But I see it in every one of your eyes, your own starry night

if you are still weary on the path to unite
this spells scroll recite

in one lord and lady
in darkness and in light
i cast this as tinder for your soul to ignite
Listen and recite on tempo with the space between preferably

i know there are some errors i will correct em later. or not
Jon Thenes Oct 2019
[We are rendered vulnerable
Gender-less and pleasure-ful
Giddy children of the prance
Tuned to the occasion
of seasonal rearrange  
and jealous of nothing]
emlyn lua Sep 2019
Aphrodite resides in my heart.
She has been there since I wished
with no hope of solution
for loneliness to be gone.

She did that.
She Did That.

My love is an ocean yet I
I keep it in the pearlescence
of a shell I found on the shore.
Does my goddess purse her lovely lips
when she feels my fear?

of vulnerability, goddess,
of your power over me.

What is worship without fear?
Awful, terrific, exposed
to the mercy of your torment.

Perhaps soon I shall meet another
who knows the ache of her in the chest
when we look into each other’s eyes.
I pray for someone who has an ocean
like mine, boundless and full of life.

Ah, then we could mingle our waters
until two oceans become one
and proud Aphrodite can swim there
guiding the currents to where they need to be.
emlyn lua Sep 2019
She stutters on the threshold:
a sun fixed on the horizon.
Bodies susurrate as she wades through them.
A daily routine – but what are days?
The cavern underneath the world admits no light from sun or moon,
Sight granted by the fragile luminosity of the pale, pale once-alive.
She walks through the dead:
has always walked through the dead
will always walk through the dead
Or – her mother was life, is life, above –
She stutters on the threshold.

She no more meanders, but strides.
The sun creaks and groans, and rises.
Breaths short and sharp, she runs:
A tree, an illogical tree in an illogical garden,
In this illogical cavern.
(but this was before logic)
Hunger pangs do not slow her,
She is hungry for change, for resolution;
For conclusion to dim the gnaw of uncertainty.

A globe gripped in a quivering hand.
She peels back the membrane
(like the skin of the earth as it opened to swallow her)
Scoops a glistening fistful of rubies
And gulps them down,
Blood of the fruit painting her chin like a child at the close of October,
Play-acting, false horror, for the sake of cloying sugars;
Her eyes are not that of a child.

She kisses the mouth of He that stole her.
They ascend, hand in terrible hand;
He sits, gestures, to Her new place beside him.
With a smile of crimson certainty,
The Queen of the Underworld takes Her throne.
Justin Aptaker Jun 2019
blessed are the fools
who call themselves fools
for others will call them wise

blessed are those who cry out to the world with stammering tongues
crouching aching and sweating
over endless lines of gibberish that fall like drum beats from the tips of their frantic pens
for they will be called Earnest

blessed are the ones who suffer withdrawals
shaking and sweating
desperate for a drink or a fix
for I will make them High indeed!

blessed are the ****** “deviants”
cast away by the “holy” as unclean
for they know that no man or woman may call unclean
anything that God has declared clean

Blessed are those who shake their fists in rage
at the heavens, cursing them
for they will dance in the pouring rain
Written by Justin Aptaker ca. 2015
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