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Dez Oct 2020
Oh how wicked is my sin bent heart
Daily should it be struck through with a dart
For when it is not crucified it does dart
To the sin, for which my savior was pierced through the heart!

Oh let me not be so fickle my Lord
Let me ever stumble backward
For yet a little slumber I can not afford
Else my poverty shall be the reward

Let it not be I who blasphemy’s by doing that which my Savior
did died for
You have given me a way therefore
help me walk by the strength which is yours
Oh this prayer do not ignore!

So, let I pray thee, your servant never slumber
Let me not rest from good labor
Rather provoke me, as a good father to your work evermore
If weary I shall rest in thee

Every day help me put to death the pride that be sets me
It is I who doth fight against my self!
I surrender it to you my farther!
Give the victory as you have promised

Not for my glory!
For I know it is not on my own that I even have this desire
But so others might see your glory reflected in this shattered mirror!
Then they shall glorify you!
And all magnification shall be yours!

Oh my God so let it be!
Mystic Ink Plus Jan 2020
To the one

Who inspires my thoughts
Hearty welcome
Gone are the days
You were there
Being mystic ink

Then and now
I long to write
Looking forward
For a rescue
To find the way

That much to say
Genre: Experimental
Theme: Peace Of Mind
Make me thy beautiful Queen, my God and all the Heavens shall tremble when I breathe.
Bring your kiss and Holy Word; let it wound my swoon of love.
I am thy ultimate fighter and warrior.
Thy angels offer me thy precious gifts.
The balms of rose beautify me.
Since I was born I had on my lips thy unique words.
When the value of what
You might add in a conversation
Is the same of that of a dying sorrow
Share it with the lamenters and the widows
For the ones with our heads onward and ahead
Have little time for a useless need in our heads

Useless ****** are abundance in this world
But dears, the only things
that look good doing nothing are statues
And your looks would pass ignored by the greeks, french, romans, and even the barbarians

Please, do mind me, this is the simplest insult
For the ones that prefer to glue their *****
Watching life passing​ by and the world spinning through
If there's so little you can do
Why don't you do us a favor and fly off
Today I tried to remain as Zen as possible, but you know when you get home and all your barriers melt down and that ball of infuriating fire is still lighting but because of the exhaustion it looked as if it were running out the gas and what remained was the ashes that crept into my mind threatening to evolve into a migraine, well you do? I felt exactly that.

As the fierce soldier I am, I haggled off this reality with that of my subconscious and adventure myself in the depths of dreams. What a journey, I dreamt with verboten love and with abuse, cliffs and heights. What I can highlight and what bedazzled me the most was a peculiar scene: I was in front of a pizzeria and the family in charge was in the middle of a severe argument. The father was holding forcibly the wrists of the mother, this one cried and implored him to stop, while their kids cried and shrieked. In the outlook of my dream I had the pleasure of having subtitles! How crazy is that! the family was talking an indigenous language and I could read what they were talking. Thing was my mother got in the middle of the argument and asked for the kids to take them, as in being their savior. I red that the little baby was in the "highest mountain", the father kept repeating that they were obliged to go there. I decipher it as the highest room in the tall building. Upon arriving no kid was there and despair started consuming me and just THEN my mother woke me up.
Maple Mathers Feb 2016
2011:

Here and there, you called my name
For this is what you christened me
“Maple is a hurricane.”
Here and there you called my name.
Face to face, you’ll ascertain
That this is not the truth, you’ll see
I’m not a ******* hurricane
For this is what you christened me.



2015:

Hear, and where you called my name –
Abyss is what you christened me.
Oh, “Maple is a hurricane!
Said puppeteer’s overt reframe.
Braced and faced, they’ll ascertain
That this just YOUR truth – decreed
You sought a ******* hurricane
Within YOURSELF; yet, christened ME.**



HURRICANE MEDUSA, *******.
(You IDIOTS Can't STOP Your Hurricane
Ready or not, here I come).


(All poems original Copyright of Eva Denali Will © 2015, 2016)
mandy rigby Mar 2015
How did it feel at the end ?.. were your legs as heavy as your heart as you took your last journey, upwards .. all the way to the top.
What led you to this place?. so broken, so defeated..
I can only imagine how wounded you must have felt, knowing your demise was considered entertainment to the crowd below. Goading you to jump, baying shamelessly for your blood. Updating social media status' .. phones pointed upwards so they could capture your misery and share it with the world.
That must be a very lonely place to be .. .
Did they not comprehend that you were someone's child, perhaps someone's Father.
Their lack of compassion could only have added to your brokenness, your feeling of being alone, misunderstood, unloved.
They left you no options, encouraging you to die like that, when you so obviously needed a kind voice, a kind heart to show you the way down to safety.
Did they enjoy the show ..as you came falling from the sky, did the crowd fall silent as you hit the ground ... LIFELESS .. Do they even comprehend how greatly they have sinned?
May I apologise on behalf of humanity, or share your grief for the lack of.
I hope you have gained the peace, you so desired and didn't get whilst here on earth.


(for the guy who commited suicide, jumping from a multi storey this weekend, spurred on by the crowd below)

(msrigs 17/03/2016)
FOR THE GUY WHO COMMITED SUICIDE IN TELFORD  .. MARCH 2015
the things i want to say are better left unsaid
the words i write today are those which have already been read*

O, thine whip which thou hath
Braided for me
Strikes the same chord
Upon my heart

Sting, O  whip of discontent
Whip of shame
Let me know the tormentous fury
Which art thou name

O, Queen of Morrow
Everlasting Morrow
Bend thine ear
As well as thine heart
To your troubled servant

O, Discordia thy will be done
Shall I pursue this path
Towards the clearing

This broken and shattered beam
Which started as your
Beautiful dream

Thine venom hath infected
Body and mind
Blinded was I in pursuit

Of the prize which shouldn't have been mine
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